Fated Eclipse: The Illegitimate Princess And Her Alpha Suitors

Chapter 103: Beneath the Chandeliers and Unspoken Eyes

Lyria’s POV

The Grand Hall shimmered with brilliance, every surface gleaming beneath the golden glow of chandeliers that hung like captured stars above the heads of those who belonged there. Light danced across polished marble floors, reflected in jewels and silk and the polished boots of noblemen. Laughter drifted through the air—polite, measured, and sharp beneath its surface.

I stood tucked between a marble pillar and the heavy velvet drapery, the familiar scent of fabric and incense wrapping around me like a quiet shield. My mask sat cool against my skin, my scent carefully concealed, my presence erased as it was meant to be.

From here, I saw everything.

The nobility had gathered in full force. Rich colours moved like waves across the hall—emerald, sapphire, wine-red, gold—each house eager to display its wealth and standing. Servants moved silently among them, offering trays of wine and delicate pastries with the precise grace expected of those who knew their place.

My gaze moved across the room, careful and observant.

Baron Redwick stood not far from the centre, engaged in conversation with Duke Thorncrest and Earl Hawthorne. Baron Redwick’s forest-green hair was neatly tied back, his spectacles perched on his nose, giving him that scholarly air that made him seem both approachable and distant at once.

Duke Thorncrest carried himself with easy charm, his dark wavy hair and warm brown eyes drawing attention without effort. Earl Hawthorne’s light brown hair and powerful build made him look like a gentle giant among the more refined nobles.

They spoke quietly, and they looked comfortable with each other as they spoke—like they were friends.

Lucian stood a little apart.

He held a glass loosely in one hand, his posture relaxed. His golden-blonde hair caught the light, and his blue eyes held a bored, almost distant expression. He looked as though he would rather be anywhere else.

And then there was the Marquess of Westreach, otherwise known as Corvin—or, from now on, bloody pompous idiot.

A faint scoff rose within me.

He stood with an easy confidence, a grin playing at his lips as though he had already secured victory before the competition had even begun. There was no tension in him. No uncertainty either.

I wondered if he believed himself entirely safe from elimination tonight.

It would not surprise me.

Not when Jacinta had taken such a particular interest in him.

Looking at him now, I found myself wondering how I had ever been so foolish as to be besotted with him.

His nose was a touch too pointed, his eyes a fraction too wide, and the gaudy embellishments upon his attire screamed for attention in the worst way.

Rather than spoil my eyes with someone as ugly as that, I would rather focus on the most handsome suitor candidates. I had seen four, but there was one missing.

I searched for Duke Valenridge, but his distinctive crimson hair was nowhere to be found. A small frown tugged at my lips. Was he indisposed again?

I watched as the Queen leaned slightly toward the King, her lips moving in quiet inquiry.

”Why is the Duke not present?” she asked.

The King merely gave a small, indifferent shrug.

The Queen’s fingers tightened ever so slightly around the stem of her glass. I knew that look. She was displeased.

I was certain she would send someone to retrieve him.

But just as that thought settled, movement caught my eye near the entrance.

And there he was.

Duke Valenridge slipped into the hall with the air of a man entirely unbothered by his own lateness, as though time itself bent to his convenience. His crimson hair was slightly tousled, earrings catching the light, and his pale green eyes held their usual spark of amusement. The Queen’s eye twitched in annoyance, but she said nothing publicly.

Duke Valenridge made his way toward Lucian, who stared at him with a frown. They spoke briefly. I could not hear the words, but I did not need to. Lucian’s exasperation was clear, while Evander looked thoroughly amused, as though the entire evening were a private joke.

Soon the others joined them—Duke Thorncrest, Earl Hawthorne, Baron Redwick. Seeing them together really was a feast.

I had never been one to truly acknowledge handsome men, but there was no way I could not do so now. I would have been blind not to see and appreciate their beauty. Their group stood out even among the nobility, and everyone noticed.

The ball had been underway for only a few minutes, yet the air already felt charged with anticipation. I wondered when the elimination would begin and, more pressingly, who would be sent home. My thoughts lingered on Evander. I hoped it would not be him. His presence—however unpredictable—had become one of the few things that made the palace feel slightly less suffocating.

As if he could sense my gaze, Evander turned his head and stared directly toward the shadows where I stood. My breath caught. Instinctively, I pressed myself further into the darkness, allowing the drapery and pillar to shield me more completely. My fingers tightened slightly against the fabric at my side.

He could not see me, I knew that. He could also not have perceived my scent. I knew that, especially since I had masked it. But those eyes... they lingered again.

The first time had been on the night of his arrival.

My pulse quickened. I wondered if he knew I was in the shadows. But just as quickly as he looked toward the shadows, he turned away.

I exhaled slowly, only then realising I had been holding my breath.

Just then, Jacinta descended from the dais.

Every eye followed her.

She moved like she had been born for such moments—graceful, radiant, every step measured and deliberate. The light seemed to favour her, clinging to her sapphire gown as though eager to prove the prophecy true.

Corvin approached her first.

Of course he did.

He bowed, his smile charming, his hand extended.

”May I have this dance, Your Highness?” he asked.

Jacinta smiled and placed her hand in his, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

She danced with each suitor candidate in turn.

Lucian looked as though he would rather be anywhere else in the world. Still, he nodded politely as she spoke; I was too far to make out the words.

Duke Thorncrest’s smile never faltered as he danced with her. Not once. Even as it remained entirely false.

Baron Redwick appeared distinctly uncomfortable. His movements were correct, his posture proper, but there was a stiffness to him that betrayed his discomfort.

Earl Hawthorne began with eager enthusiasm but soon looked as though he would prefer to be spared. His dance was brief.

Duke Valenridge looked bored while he danced with her, and like Earl Hawthorne, his dance was brief too.

Jacinta did not seem to mind. Or perhaps she did not notice.

Those dances were the ones I noticed—well, I only noticed Corvin because he annoyed me. The others because I was intrigued.

When the final dance ended, Jacinta returned to the dais, every inch the picture of grace and control.

The music slowed, then stopped. Silence fell as every gaze landed on her.

The footman stepped forward, parchment in hand.