Coming Of Age I

Cecilia exhaled sharply, her frustration mounting as yet another dress joined the growing pile on the floor.

"It's not good enough," she muttered, her sulk deepening. Around her, the maids bustled, their faces a mix of nervousness and determination, trying to appease the princess.

Today wasn't just any day—it was special in ways that made her heart race and her mind whirl. And for once, Cecilia, always so composed, felt a flicker of something foreign.

Badump. Badump.

Her heartbeat thrummed like a persistent drum, an unwelcome reminder of her nerves. She tried to dismiss it, but the thought of Arthur kept slipping into her mind, derailing every attempt at calm.

Finally, after what felt like hours, she settled on a dress. It was a stunning backless black gown that contrasted perfectly with her sunlit blonde hair and her fair, creamy skin. The ruby necklace she chose added a touch of bold elegance, its fiery hue catching the light and complementing the crimson of her eyes. Matching ruby earrings completed the look, framing her face with just the right balance of regality and allure.

Cecilia turned to the mirror, her reflection staring back with a mix of confidence and anticipation. For all her fussing, she couldn't deny that the ensemble was perfect. And tonight—tonight had to be perfect.

Badump.

After finishing her preparations, Cecilia stepped out of her room, her maids trailing dutifully behind her. She resisted the itch to check her phone, clasping her hands tightly as she made her way to meet her parents and older brother.

Quinn Slatemark's expression darkened the moment he saw his daughter. His gaze swept over her gown, lingering on the daring design with visible disapproval. But before he could voice his thoughts, Adeline nudged him firmly, silencing any protest. He sighed, knowing exactly why Cecilia had chosen such an outfit.

All because of that boy. Arthur.

The mere thought of him soured Quinn's mood further. It wasn't just that Cecilia was utterly enamored—it was that the boy had somehow managed to entangle two other princesses in the same web. And, to top it all off, he was a Nightingale.

A Nightingale.

Quinn's jaw tightened, but he swallowed his words. He had endured enough lectures from Adeline about meddling in his daughter's affairs. She had made it clear—Cecilia's love life was hers to navigate, just as he had turned a blind eye to Valerian's.

"You look every inch the young woman you've grown into, Cecilia," Adeline said warmly, her smile bright and genuine.

Cecilia's eyes lit up at her mother's words, a small blush rising to her cheeks. Quinn, however, could only grumble inwardly, suppressing the urge to voice his misgivings. Instead, he folded his arms, silently watching his daughter, the picture of youthful elegance and determination, walk toward the life she was shaping for herself.

The Slatemark Imperial Family made their way toward the grand hall, the very air around them steeped in regality. The towering doors swung open with a ceremonious creak, revealing the opulence within. As they entered, the speakers announced their arrival with a flourish, drawing every eye in the room.

Quinn Slatemark came to a stop, his posture rigid, commanding the space as only an emperor could. His voice resonated across the hall, carrying the authority of a ruler but also the warmth of a father.

"I would like to thank everyone for attending my daughter's coming-of-age ceremony. Please, enjoy the evening!"

Polite applause rippled through the crowd, but Quinn's attention was elsewhere. His sharp eyes swept over the familiar faces of dignitaries, nobles, and prodigies, scanning with purpose. They finally settled on the one person he sought.

Arthur Nightingale.

His gaze hardened, narrowing as he regarded the young man who had somehow ensnared the affection of not just his daughter but two other princesses. Quinn wanted to find fault—any crack in the armor, any sign that the boy was unworthy of Cecilia.

But it was proving to be a futile endeavor.

Arthur stood as he always did: calm, poised, and exuding an air of quiet confidence. A young man who was both admired and feared, carrying the weight of his growing legend with startling ease. Try as he might, Quinn could not deny the truth—Arthur Nightingale was becoming a force in his own right.

Reluctantly, Quinn allowed himself the faintest nod of approval, though it soured his mood further. The boy wasn't unworthy, but that didn't mean Quinn had to like him.

Quinn took his seat on the gilded throne at the head of the room, his expression carefully composed, though his fingers tapped the armrest in irritation. Adeline slid into her chair beside him, casting him a knowing look. She said nothing, but her faint smirk spoke volumes.

As the festivities began, Quinn leaned back slightly, observing the hall with the keen eye of both an emperor and a father. One thought lingered in his mind, sharper than any blade: 'This isn't over, Nightingale.'

While Quinn scrutinized Arthur from his seat, Arthur and Cecilia prepared to take the floor for the first dance of the evening. The orchestra shifted seamlessly into a new melody, one unmistakably romantic—its gentle swells and lilting notes weaving an intimate atmosphere that set the mood for the couple.

"An excellent choice, Princess," Arthur said with a subtle smirk as he knelt before her. His movements were fluid and precise, a mixture of decorum and charm that made the onlookers murmur with admiration. He touched her hand lightly and pressed a kiss to its back. "May I have the honor of this dance, Your Highness?"

"You may," Cecilia replied, her smile bright and brimming with confidence. She placed her hand in his, and they stepped into position as the music swirled around them.

Arthur's hand found its place at the small of her back, the soft fabric of her dress cool beneath his fingers. Or rather, what little of it there was—her daring choice of a backless gown had not gone unnoticed.

"So," Cecilia whispered as they moved in perfect synchrony, "how do you like the dress?"

Arthur's pause was almost imperceptible, but the faint heat in his cheeks betrayed him. "...It's nice," he admitted, his voice low and measured, though his expression spoke volumes more.

Cecilia had always been bold, but something about her tonight seemed even more so—like a predator that had found the perfect moment to close in. Her confidence, mixed with Arthur's growing affection and the moments they'd shared in recent months, left her nearly irresistible.

Arthur's eyes flicked downward, just for a moment, before returning to her face. Unfortunately for him, Cecilia noticed. Her smile curled into something self-assured and mischievous, a glimmer of triumph in her crimson eyes.

"Well, you are a man, and you are my man," she said with a wink, her voice a low purr, "so I don't mind if you look. Just don't let my father catch you."

Arthur couldn't suppress a chuckle at her audacity, shaking his head slightly. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"I know," she said, her tone light but her gaze unwavering. "And you love it."

"But still, let's keep things in check for now," Cecilia teased, her crimson eyes glinting with mischief. "I'd hate for my father to string you up by your ankles in front of everyone. Can't have that, can we?"

Arthur sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "Why did I have to fall for the daughters of the three most overprotective fathers in existence?"

"Because I'm worth it," Cecilia shot back without hesitation, her tone smug yet playful. "Don't you think so?"

"Of course, you are, Ceci," Arthur said, his voice softening as he pulled her just a little closer. "At this point, it's impossible to imagine my life without you, my devil."

Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and her smile widened until it seemed to light up the entire ballroom. "You're lucky we're in public," she whispered, her voice teasing but her eyes betraying the sincerity beneath. "I'm this close to kissing you, Nightingale. So, before I cause a scandal, let's create some distance, shall we?"

Arthur nodded, a wry grin tugging at his lips as the final strains of the song faded into silence. They moved apart gracefully, still maintaining the perfect poise expected of them.

"You won't need to create distance later," Cecilia murmured under her breath, just loud enough for Arthur to hear. Her words carried a promise that left him momentarily stunned as they turned to bow to each other in perfect unison.

The applause was polite and measured, but to Arthur, it was as though the world had narrowed to just the two of them.