Claimed By The Tyrant King

Fortunately, the long dance with Alaric finally came to an end and applause followed almost immediately.

Rosalind realised she was the only one left on the dance floor, and she awkwardly made her way out while the rest of the nobles resumed dancing in pairs, men and women gliding smoothly across the floor.

The chandeliers above glinted warmly over the hall as the polished walls reflected light against the jewellery and the elegant sweep of dresses that moved with every turn. Servants moved through the crowd serving drinks and delicacies while the atmosphere shifted back to celebration.

Rosalind finally felt like she could breathe without Alaric beside her. Even so, her mind kept circling back to what he had said, that she would moan his name again and again after the ball, and the thought alone made something uneasy yet fluttering coil in her stomach, so she forced herself to push it away and focus on something else, anything else, especially how she would survive the rest of the night without embarrassing herself in front of everyone.

Just as she reached for a glass of wine and took a sip as a servant passed by, her gaze drifted across the hall and landed on her father not too far away as he spoke comfortably with a group of nobles.

His earlier words returned, tightening around her chest as her fingers unconsciously gripped the glass.

Almost as if he could feel her gaze, Calder turned and looked in her direction, only to find Rosalind standing there with the same man from earlier behind her.

His eyes narrowed, though he quickly dismissed it once he recognised the uniform, deciding it was only a servant.

Good, he thought, it meant she was properly watched and would not be able to escape her fate so easily.

He then turned away from her as if she had never been part of his life, laughing at something another noble said.

The wine suddenly turned bitter on her tongue and she placed the glass back down before walking away.

As she moved toward the table of food, she realised she had arrived a little late as most of the desserts had already been taken, leaving only a few behind.

She was searching for something sweet to wash away the bitterness settling in her chest when she spotted the last slice of chocolate cake and picked it up, even though she was not particularly fond of chocolate.

Her eyes drifted over the remaining spread, from biscuits and cookies to fruit arranged in different shapes, then to skewered meat and sweets of every kind, all arranged so beautifully it was almost overwhelming, while a fountain of wine stood at the centre of it all, making the entire table feel like a feast from another world.

Just as she turned, her gaze met Thalia’s, and for a moment they both paused in surprise, noticing each other holding the last remaining cakes, though Thalia’s was strawberry while Rosalind’s was chocolate.

"You have what I want," they both said at the same time.

Then they stopped and laughed softly at the coincidence before Thalia gestured toward Rosalind’s plate.

"May I?" she asked.

"Sure," Rosalind replied at once, and they exchanged plates.

Rosalind dipped her spoon into the cake, watching how soft and fluffy it was before bringing it to her mouth and letting out a small sound of delight at the taste, and Thalia reacted in the same way, clearly enjoying hers as well. They glanced at each other again before smiling and continuing to eat.

"Cake really is such a good dessert, don’t you think?" Rosalind said after a moment.

"Of course," Thalia agreed, carefully eating hers slowly so it would not finish too quickly since it was the last one.

They continued eating while the ball carried on, and after the dancing had slowed, performers stepped forward to present music, fire displays, and other talents that drew applause and cheers from the crowd.

"What are you people up to?" Verity’s voice came from the side, making both of them turn toward her.

"Just having cake," Rosalind answered, then added, "You should try some too."

"Oh no, I don’t really enjoy cake," Verity replied.

Thalia and Rosalind exchanged a look at once. "Is there really someone who doesn’t like cake?" they both said.

Verity gave them a pointed look as if to remind them she was standing right there.

"By the way, Rosalind," she said, shifting her attention, "are you prepared?"

Rosalind was still enjoying the taste lingering in her mouth and for a moment she almost forgot what she was meant to do, so she asked absentmindedly, "For what?"

"The dance," Verity replied simply. "Soon, it will be your turn."

Rosalind swallowed a little too quickly and Thalia immediately noticed her reaction.

"I think you just made her anxious," Thalia said, glancing at Verity.

"No... no, I’m fine," Rosalind quickly corrected, turning back to Verity as she forced a small breath to steady herself. "I think I can do it," she added.

And the two of them gave her encouraging smiles.

Shortly after, it was finally time for Rosalind’s performance.

Instantly, she felt every gaze turn toward her from all sides, and she wondered if she was truly that famous for so many eyes to follow her so closely.

At the same time, faint murmurs began to rise as women whispered behind their fans, exchanging quiet words she could not quite hear but could certainly feel.

"You can do this," Verity whispered beside her, while Thalia gave a small reassuring nod.

Rosalind drew in a deep breath as their encouragement steadied her, and then she was guided toward the center of the ballroom. Only then did she notice the lighting had shifted, dimmer now, with candles placed around, and she was not surprised because Verity and Thalia had already told her this was part of what made the dance feel seductive.

Her throat tightened slightly as her gaze drifted across the sea of watching faces before finally landing on Alaric. He sat on his throne with his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest, that familiar smirk on his lips while his eyes remained dark and fixed on her.

His earlier words about impressing him returned sharply to her mind, and she knew she could not afford to fail, because failure here would not simply be embarrassment but punishment.