Bound by fire, Claimed by love

A Deception at the imperial ball

Lady Celeste gripped the letter with a trembling hand, her knuckles turning white.

A Ravenshire. As her son's wife.

The emperor's words were absolute. The engagement was now set in stone, and the entire empire would witness it.

How dare he force this upon Damian? Upon her?

Lady Celeste took a steadying breath, forcing herself to remain composed. There was still the ball. She would not allow this girl to waltz into her son's life unchallenged.

If Evelyn Ravenshire thought she could simply take her place beside Damian without resistance, she was mistaken.

---

The Night of the Ball

The grand ballroom shimmered with golden candlelight, the air thick with the scent of fresh roses and expensive perfume. Nobles in their finest silks and velvets whispered behind delicate fans, all eyes on the woman of the hour—Lady Evelyn Ravenshire.

She was stunning, dressed in an elegant crimson gown that draped over her form like liquid fire. Yet, it wasn't just her beauty that caught the crowd's attention. It was her composure. The way she stood with quiet strength, chin lifted despite the scrutiny.

Lady Celeste approached, her lips curved in a seemingly warm smile. But Evelyn knew better.

"My dear Evelyn," she began, her voice honeyed but sharp, "I must say, your transformation is remarkable. Who would have thought the daughter of a ruined house could appear so… presentable?"

A few nobles nearby exchanged glances, some suppressing smirks, others watching in anticipation.

Evelyn met Lady Celeste's gaze, her own unreadable. "It's kind of you to say, Your Grace," she replied smoothly. "Though I believe it is less about appearances and more about resilience. Wouldn't you agree?"

Lady Celeste's smile tightened. "Of course. But resilience only takes one so far. There are… expectations of a duchess, after all."

Evelyn opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a sharp voice cut through the conversation.

"That is enough, Lady Celeste."

The room fell silent.

A figure stepped forward—an older noble, his presence commanding, his eyes sharp with warning. Lady Celeste stiffened, her lips parting slightly in shock.

Evelyn turned slightly, studying the man. He wasn't someone she had expected to come to her aid.

Lady Celeste's fingers curled around the stem of her wine glass, her fury barely masked. She could not openly defy the emperor's decision, but she had thought she could, at the very least, humiliate Evelyn.

Not tonight, it seemed.

Damian, who had been watching from a distance, finally stepped closer. His gaze flickered between his mother and Evelyn, unreadable.

"I assume you're both getting along?" he asked, though there was a hint of wariness in his voice.

Lady Celeste's expression softened as she turned to him. "Of course, my dear," she said sweetly. "Evelyn and I were merely… becoming acquainted."

Evelyn said nothing, though her fingers clenched slightly at her sides.

She could see it—the way Damian wanted to believe his mother. That this was just a misunderstanding.

But it wasn't.

And Evelyn knew… Lady Celeste was far from finished.