The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale glow over the palace as if the stars themselves were holding their breath. Inside the grand ballroom, the music had slowed, and the nobles danced in a daze of luxury, their movements a perfect choreography. But to me, the air felt thick with something else—something darker. The prince had been playing a game all night, and I was tired of being just another pawn.
I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd overheard. The way his words had sliced through the air. "She'll play her part." It was like a death sentence, and Cinderella was the one he was sentencing.
I glanced over at her. She was smiling, but the sparkle in her eyes had dulled, and I could see her hand trembling slightly in her partner's. The dance was meant to be a celebration, but to me, it felt more like a mockery. She was trapped in this world of masks, of false smiles and hidden agendas, and she didn't even know it.
I moved through the crowd, my heart pounding as I searched for the one person who could give me answers—the prince. He had to be behind all of this, and I wasn't going to wait any longer to find out why.
I found him by the grand staircase, talking to one of the nobles. As always, his smile was effortless, like he was born to charm and deceive. But there was something in his eyes now—something that sent a chill down my spine.
"Your Highness," I said, my voice cutting through the hum of conversation. His eyes flicked toward me, and for a moment, I thought he might pretend not to notice me. But then his smile widened, and he excused himself from the conversation.
"Ah, Red," he said, his voice smooth as honey. "I was hoping you'd come."
"Don't play games with me, Prince," I replied, keeping my voice steady. "I know what you're doing."
He raised an eyebrow, but the smile never left his lips. "Do you? I must admit, you've piqued my curiosity. What is it that you think I'm doing?"
I could feel the weight of the conversation, the pressure building in my chest. Every word I spoke felt like a step deeper into a trap.
"I know about the shoemaker," I said bluntly, my eyes narrowing. "I know about the insignia. And I know you're behind it."
His smile faltered for the briefest of moments, but then it was back, more dangerous than before. "You're a clever one, aren't you? But you're wrong."
"Am I?" I challenged, stepping closer. "You knew him. You've been involved in his death. You've been involved in everything."
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping low, almost a whisper. "You don't know everything, Red. There's much more at play here than you realize. The game is bigger than just you, just Cinderella, or even the shoemaker. We are all players in a much larger scheme."
I could feel my pulse quicken. "What do you want with her?" I demanded, my eyes burning with the need for answers. "What's your game with Cinderella?"
He seemed to enjoy my frustration, his gaze gleaming like a predator toying with its prey. "Cinderella? She's just one piece of the puzzle. The question is—what part will you play, Red?"
I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. "You've got it all wrong. I'm not part of your game, Prince. But you will answer me. I'll find out the truth, no matter how long it takes."
For the first time that night, his smile wavered, a flicker of something like frustration crossing his features. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced with a mask of politeness.
"Fine. If you must know," he said, his voice cold, "you'll have to wait until the end of the night. The game is almost finished. And I'm afraid you're too late to change the outcome."
With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding in my chest. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, and I had to fight the urge to chase after him.
But I couldn't. Not yet.
I needed to find Cinderella.
I scanned the room, my eyes darting over the sea of masks, but she was nowhere to be found. The dance had ended, and the guests were dispersing into small groups, talking in hushed voices. The prince had given me the information I needed—he was playing some sort of twisted game, and Cinderella was at the center of it. But what was his end goal? What did he want from her?
I pushed through the crowd, my mind racing. I had to find her. I had to protect her. But the closer I got to the exit, the more the sense of dread grew. The night was winding down, and I could feel the pressure of time closing in.
And then, like a shadow, I spotted her. Cinderella was standing near the back door, her face pale, her body trembling. She wasn't looking at anyone. She wasn't even moving.
I rushed toward her, but before I could reach her, I heard the unmistakable sound of the clock striking midnight.
The chimes echoed through the hall, reverberating in my bones. The game had begun. And there was no going back.