2: Steps

Daimon led Herada to the dance floor, her hand still held gently in his. The blank faced woman had a tight and sweet smile on her face, the corners of her eyes crinkled a little. It looked so odd on her that Daimon immediately knew it was fake, but he didn’t comment on it. Having an apathetic sister has taught him how to read people a lot. And that of him being the crown Prince and knowing how to read both your allies and enemies.

Herada had the non-slit part of her dress in her hand, raising it up and allow her to walk more freely. In doing so, it showed more of her toned lap. She got looks of admiration and jealousy. Daimon led her to the dance floor, the crowd giving way for them.

The orchestra started another score, and the two began to move together. Everyone was in awe as they both moved in perfect synchrony. For people who just met, they moved with grace, as if they had practiced dancing with each other for so long. And not only that, they looked so good together.

Half of the single women in the crowd were gushing at how perfect they look together, some squealing at how amored the Prince looked at Herada. The other half watched – even the married one (funnily enough) – watched the pair in jealousy, hate or both. Unfortunately, one of them was Valentina. The young woman had a look of disbelief and jealously. Her inferiority complex merged from deep within the shallow grave I her heart and mind with full force.

Valentina gritted her teeth in anger, balling her hands into fists. ‘Once again, she got it all without even trying. How irritable.’ She bitterly thought as she watched her cousin and the Prince dance and lightly interacted with each other.

Back to Herada and Daimon, it was going swell. Well, that is if you skipped the part where Herada was internally banging her head against a metaphysical wall, and sincerely praying to Hades and Ares that this, whatever it was, should quickly come to an end before her mask slipped.

As if getting dragged to this gods forsaken ball wasn’t enough, this annoying idiot had to make her the center of attention.

‘Did I perchance offend you, Lord Hades?’ Herada questioned in her head. ‘Or is you many-times-over- Grandfather Ares?’ Her smile became strained. ‘Please my Lords, if I have done anything to offend you both, forgive me for my insolence. Please, just PLEASE, end this torture.’ She prayed, an eye twitching in irritation as the Prince twirled her. She executed the spin perfectly, which found her chest to chest with said Prince.

“A golden Denarii for your thought, Lady Herada?”

Daimon’s question snapped her out of her internal pleading to her gods. She stared up at him with a cocked brow, her facial expression still in a blank stoic mask.

“I beg your pardon Your Highness, but my thoughts are more expensive than that.” She said in a silky tone, her voice devoid of emotion. “By Hades, I am quite sure that you, or anyone, won’t be able to comprehend what flows through my mind.”

Daimon chuckled, his beautiful light blue eyes crinkled in amusement. “I would hope not, seeing as a woman of your caliber is hard to come by.” He said to her, his lips curled in a sly smirk.

Herada hummed, giving him a blank stare. A blanket of awkward silence hovered over them, but Daimon drove it away with his attempt of starting up a conversation.

“That’s a unique necklace and earring you have on, Lady Herada. May I ask of their origins?” Daimon inquired silky.

“You may.” Herada replied with resigned sigh. She remained silent for a few seconds, partly due to the Prince twirling her and partly due to her pondering if she should really answer his question or not. With a silent sigh, she continued. “They’re the symbols of my patron god, Lord Hades.” She blandly started.

Herada’s necklace consisted of a golden helm which has a sliver snake beautifully wrapped around it. Said snake had tiny garnet stones as eyes.

“Hades?” Daimon parroted with shock. “You worship Hades?”

“Lord Hades.” Herada emphasized on the lord. “When addressing someone else’s god, especially one of the Major Gods, address with respect.”

Daimon internally winced as she subtly chastised him. It’s honestly a relieved surprise to have someone other than his family chastise him. But he has to trend carefully with Herada. She’s getting colder towards him every time he opened his mouth.

‘But on serious note, who worships Hades? Hades, of all gods.’ Daimon internally muses. ‘Clearly not someone in their right senses.’

“Forgive me for interrupting, but I’m sorry to inform you that I am 100% in my right mind, Your Highness.” Herada said, hissing out the ‘your highness’ part.

“I-I beg your pardon?” Daimon stuttered out.

Herada just arched an unimpressed brow at him in bemusement. “You have same look others have when they hear the name of the god I worship.” She blandly stated, getting a light grimace from Daimon. “Unfortunately, Prince Daimon, you’re not the first to assume worse of my mental health.” They came to a stop, Herada taking a step away from him. “And you’ll definitely not be the last.”

“I-” Daimon opened his mouth to apologize, but was stopped short b Herada taking six more steps away from him and giving him a light curtsy.

“This is where our dance ends, my Prince.” She said with a loud voice, before straightening herself. “Goodbye.” With an incline of her head, she walked away.

Daimon didn’t have the chance to reply before Herada strode gracefully to where her father, the Valkyria Ambassador, her uncle and cousin stood. They all traded some few words before her father gave a curt nod, a strained grin on his lips. Herada walked over to where the royal family sat and gave a bow at the King, announcing her departure. According to her, she needed rest, having just arrived from foiling a rebellion in the north. The King dismissed her with a soft smile. She thanked the King and once again apologized for leaving early, before making her way out of the room. She walked out with her blank mask still intact, nonchalant about the eyes on her.

With a sigh, Daimon walked over to the throne dais, scolding himself along the way. He sat on his throne, face set in a frown. Although the party picked up again, he was lost in thought. His parents and sister subtly glanced at him once in a while with worry in their eyes – not that he noticed, of course.

After five minutes of internal musing and debate, Daimon finally made up his mind. His face set in determined frown, he thought of how to woo the mysterious Lady.

How hard could it be to ask for father’s and her permission to court her?