In the Winter Palace on the coast of the western sea, there was the usual hustle and bustle for that time of year. Another big ball was to be held; this time, it was a celebration in honor of spring. The coast of the western sea, otherwise warm and sunny, finally yielded to the gusts of winter from the northern regions, so that everything was white as far as the eye could see. It was not exactly ideal for the celebration of spring. Still, Emperor Vatroslav and his imperial family believed that precisely because of this, the people should be reminded of the beauty and exuberance of spring. After all, the spring ball was held every year at this time, and the emperor did not allow the whims of capricious nature to spoil his plans.

Especially for the celebration, the emperor ordered the most beautiful flowers and the freshest fruits from the south to be brought. He wanted everything to shine and be divinely beautiful. His wife, empress Kaliya, in her time one of the most beautiful women in the empire, indulgently smiled and discreetly changed the emperor’s orders here and there. She thought that her beloved husband, although talented in state affairs, was not very gifted when it came to organizing celebrations. But that’s why she was there. The only bright spot in her rather boring royal life were celebrations, so it is understandable that she also wanted everything to look ravishing. Of course, her concept of beauty was very different from the emperor’s, but it seems that this was exactly what made the two of them love each other so much.

The only one in the entire empire who was not looking forward to the spring ball was their son, Tsarevitch Vladislav. Why, no one knew, but the fact remained that he was now in a black phase, so he tended to be bothered by everything frivolous and luxurious. He had his chambers painted black and took the furniture from the attic of the winter castle, already decayed and worm-eaten. His parents worriedly asked him why he hadn’t brought something newer to the room, because after all, a worm-eaten armchair was more dangerous than some, God forbid, assassin. It was enough to throw oneself on it a little bit harder, and one could break an arm or a leg, and not just those belonging to the chair. Not to mention the worst option of breaking one’s neck. Such a thing would be most inconvenient.

At that, the Tsarevitch told them that he did not intend to sit in it anyway and dragged himself to a tatami mat in the corner by the fireplace.

The emperor then declared that he was beginning to regret his own mortality, because one day he would be forced to leave the empire to such a … son (his exact words are best not to cite, because even emperors, despite being emperors, have quite an extensive vocabulary).

In return, Tsarevitch started to hum a death march, which indescribably angered his parents, so they left, leaving the door open.

Vladislav seriously considered painting the white keys on his piano black, but then he concluded that he would not be able to distinguish the notes on the keyboard, so he abandoned the idea.

And so, in the twilight of his room, he thought about the meaninglessness of life. The sounds of the orchestra rehearsing a waltz reached him. He stopped his ears in contempt. He hated people. When he became emperor, he would ban all balls and build a special castle, just for himself, on top of a cliff, from where he could jump when he secured an heir. And maybe even earlier; he hated waiting, too.

What particularly annoyed him was that he would have to lead the first waltz at the spring ball. He began to play a sad tune on the piano with all his might to drown out the sounds of the orchestra. A few years ago, he had entertained the idea of becoming the most famous pianist in the whole empire, but gave up when he realized he had talent. Emperors, in his opinion, should occupy themselves exclusively with things for which they had no talent at all. Like, for example, his father, who was now engaged in decorating the ballroom.

Another thing he dreaded was the girl he had to waltz with in two weeks. In the past, when he was still young and inexperienced, he liked to carefully choose his dance partners and then twirl them into the garden or onto the ballroom terrace, mostly somewhere away from people, and test his seduction skills on them. But, soon, he saw that they would fall into his arms even if he had behaved like an ordinary piece of driftwood, so he gave up on all that in disappointment. There were only a few things left to happen in his life, and that was to be crowned, to be married to a scarecrow of noble origin, to produce an heir, and to perform his spectacular jump from the cliff.

Of all that, he was most eager about the latter.

He left thinking for later and turned to the servant who had entered and was now patiently waiting for the Tsarevitch to notice him.

“Speak, servant!” he said, trying to give his voice that familiar, contemptuous imperial note. He attributed the fact that he sounded like a crow to a cold that had been bothering him for several days.

The servant coughed and said:

“His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Vatroslav II, your father, has ordered you to go down to the cabinet of his Imperial Highness for a very important conversation.”

“He said it in those exact words?” Vladislav asked, with doubt.

“Well, it sounded more like–go tell that waste of space to come down within five minutes or else,” said the servant timidly.

“Ah, it’s more serious than I thought. Well, tell his Imperial Majesty that I’ll come down as soon as I’m properly dressed. And then come back to help me with it.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

After some time, Vladislav came down and stood before the earnest faces of his parents. His father scowled.

“We have called you to speak on the occasion of a very important event which we hope will take place soon.”

“It’s not that boring ball, is it?” Vladislav asked, worried.

“No, something much more important,” his mother said with a smile.

The emperor continued. “Tomorrow, your cousin, Princess Lydia, with whom you will lead the first waltz at the ball, will arrive at our court.”

“Wonderful!” Vladislav muttered in despair.

“And to whom we’ll get you hitched,” added his mother happily, to which the emperor looked at her in astonishment. “That is, to whom we shall bind you in holy matrimony,” the empress quickly corrected herself.

Vladislav, who was drinking a glass of water in an attempt to moisten his suddenly dry throat, forgot to swallow out of astonishment, which resulted in an indescribable coughing fit and a spray of liquid that splashed his parents.

“Beg your pardon?” he managed to say when he could breathe again.

“Exactly what you just heard. We intend to marry you to Lydia,” the emperor said firmly.

“But don’t I have the right to choose my own wife? You chose mother, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but fate chose her as my wife, and for you, the soothsayer was drunk at birth, and later, God rest his soul, he died. That’s why mother and I decided to help fate a little, and to spare you the effort of searching.”

“And what if I don’t like Lydia, what then?”

“We sincerely hope you will like her, but if you don’t, we’ll find you another one. Just try not to be too picky, because our patience has its limit.” Having said that, the emperor pointed to the door.

Leaving, Vladislav turned and said:

“You won’t get rid of me that easily!”

Thus ended, all in all, an awkward interview, which resulted in the emperor being completely distracted for the rest of the day, and the empress spending the whole afternoon with a cabbage leaf tied around her forehead.

During that time, Vladislav was desperately trying to think of a way to escape this hopeless situation.

That evening, while Tsarevich, reclining in his worm-eaten armchair, was still trying to figure out how to avoid meeting Princess Lydia, the wind broke one of the windows in one of the corridors of the Winter Castle. This was noticed only in the morning, when the wind had already blown a lot of snow through the opening, causing additional work for the servants. Of course, this was not a particularly important fact, especially not in a world like this one, in which magic was something to frighten naughty children with and where fate was told by senile or drunken seers. But what was important, and what nobody seemed to have been able to remember, was that the corridor and the window in question were in the part of the castle located on the leeward side.

Around midnight, a storm started raging, and freezing rain, carried by the wind, noisily whipped the windows. Vladislav woke up from the slumber he had fallen into. He shivered from the cold, approached the fireplace where the fire was smoldering, and held out his hands to warm them.

At that moment, several things happened—the fire in the fireplace went out, one of the decorative lanterns that hadn’t worked in ages alighted, one of the horses in the stable woke up after being bitten by a very inconsiderate flea, and, to his astonishment, Tsarevich turned and saw a very, very old woman sitting in his favorite armchair.

After recovering from the initial surprise, Tsarevich managed to squeeze in a few comprehensible words.

“Excuse me, why are you sitting in my chair?” he said politely.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I maybe stand on it?” said the old woman and quickly straightened up.

Tsarevich muttered something to himself that sounded like “what a nasty grandma,” and then decided to act as anyone else would in a similar situation.

“Tell me what you’re doing here,” he demanded, “or I’ll start screaming!”

The woman smiled.

“You couldn’t scream even if you wanted to. But let me get to the point!” And, saying that, she floated to the other end of the room.

Vladislav really tried to scream and really couldn’t, but that didn’t surprise him much, because he had long suspected that this person was a witch who had come to avenge her cousin, the seer (the same one who had died for unknown reasons after Tsarevitch was born; Vladislav had always thought that the man had died out of fright, when seeing baby Tsarevitch).

Tsarevich whispered:

“It’s not my fault I was ugly when I was little. My own mother barely acknowledged that I was her son.”

“That’s not why I’m here. My name is Matilda. I am the greatest of all the good fairies in this hideous realm.”

Tsarevich breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, if you’re a good fairy, then no problem. By the way, this realm isn’t hideous.”

“I’m here to help you. And, for the record, this realm is hideous. And disgusting.”

“And, in what way can you help me, good fairy Matilda, me, the future emperor of this wonderful realm?”

“Your parents did something against your will, which is not surprising, considering what a disgusting realm they rule.”

“Indeed, they did. But why do you despise this place so much?”

“That’s why I’m here to help you,” said Matilda. “And I despise this place, because the people here don’t respect magic at all, which is unforgivable.”

Vladislav’s head was spinning from this conversation, so he said:

“Fine, understandable reasons. Now let’s get down to business!”

“Those were just my words. Let’s get to the point.”

“Well, let’s do it.”

“Of course!”

“So?”

“That goes without saying.”

“What goes without saying?”

“That we should get to the point.”

“Then, let’s get to it.”

“To what?”

“To the point!” exclaimed Tsarevich, running out of patience. Sure, the fairies were useful, but why on earth did they have to be so complicated?

“Ah, so what would you do if you could avoid marrying Lydia?” said Matilda, the fairy.

It felt to Vladislav as though the sun suddenly shone on him.

“I would spend a few more wonderful years enjoying my freedom!”

“That’s what I expected you to say. But, unfortunately, I can’t provide it for you. You see, your parents want to marry you so badly that changing their wishes is impossible, even for a fairy like me.”

Tsarevitch shrugged his shoulders sourly, declaring that he hadn’t had much hope to begin with. “So, what can you change then?”

“One important thing. I can get them to let you choose your future wife.”

“Uh, thanks for nothing.” Vladislav sighed.

“In your present situation, that’s more than enough. And, to sweeten the deal, I will tell you what that drunken seer didn’t manage at your birth—your destiny.”

Tsarevitch, although he did not believe in fortune-telling, still felt a strange chill creep up his spine. Struggling to appear more composed than he felt, he said:

“Very well, let me hear that amazing piece of information!”

The fairy cleared her throat and began:

“He was born for love, though glory calls his name,
And all who know him are drawn to his flame.
Yet joy never comes without a hidden scar.
After the bright morning, darkness waits afar.

Oh, let him take caution, though strong he will be,
For shadows hide horrors that no one can see.
Turn from steel and fire, from water and ice,
Give your heart to love—the sweetest sacrifice.”

While the fairy was saying this, Tsarevitch thought he saw the reflection of a girl in a white dress in the mirror on the wall. But it only lasted a moment.

“There, that’s all,” said the fairy. “I have to go now. Sleep well.”

She smiled and disappeared.

Tsarevich soon fell asleep and dreamed the strangest dream in his life—a dream about a young woman in a white dress whose face he did not see, about monsters he would kill, about seas he would cross, all to win her heart.

The following morning dawned gentle and calm, as if the night had never happened, and silenced even the usually lively court. Vladislav awoke, dazed, wondering whether last night’s adventure had been the result of poor digestion or too much wine. Somehow, he pulled himself away from the warmth of the fireplace and approached the window, shivering from the cold.

He wondered what the purpose of windows actually was. Only to let cold air into the room? His castle, he firmly decided, would not have a single window. And yet the view stretching across the snow-covered shore all the way to the thin line of horizon separating sky from sea made him change his mind. Nature was the creator of the most beautiful, unrepeatable works. That must be why people needed windows—so they could admire them.

He noticed another useful purpose of windows when he looked at the dark, winding line of the road. Several even darker specks were crawling across the plain. Good heavens, it couldn’t be that monster of a cousin of his! They certainly were not wasting any time.

“Horatio!” he shouted.

The servant, who had been dozing in the antechamber, jolted awake and ran to answer his master’s call.

“Yes, Your Majesty!” he said, trying at the same time to straighten his clothes, smooth his hair, and put on his shoes.

“Horatio, come here!”

At that summons, Horatio burst into the room with one shoe in his hand, smiling in confusion.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he repeated, attempting discreetly to slip the shoe onto his foot. At that very moment, the door he had been leaning on swung open, and Horatio stumbled forward, ending up tangled in the curtains of the prince’s bed. Vladislav sighed like a very unhappy man and said to the page who had entered:

“What do you want now?”

“Your Majesty, Empress Kaliya, your mother, has sent you this message.” With that, the page produced an envelope bearing the imperial seal.

“All right, you may go.”

Vladislav cautiously opened the message, which read:

“My beloved son, your fiancée, Princess Lydia, will shortly arrive at our court. I wish you to appear properly dressed and to welcome her suitably.

Your mother.

P.S. No jokes whatsoever about her appearance, her servants, her hairstyle, her manner of speaking… (the list continued across the rest of the page) … and finally, the decorations of the reception hall.”

The prince sighed once more, even more miserably than before, if that was at all possible, and collapsed onto his imperial bed (which resulted in one of the four wooden posts supporting the canopy breaking, with far-reaching consequences for a spider whose web had been located there). It seemed the fairy had not managed to change anything after all. It had probably all been a dream.

“Horatio, bring me some clothes,” he finally muttered between two sighs.

“At once, Your Majesty,” said Horatio, limping to the wardrobe, since his unfortunate shoe had been irretrievably lost beneath the prince’s bed.

The reception hall echoed with the hurried footsteps of bustling servants. The prince reluctantly approached his parents and greeted them.

At that moment, something strange happened—his parents froze and looked toward the window, a cold wind whistled through the room, leaving an uneasy chill behind, and the prince thought he glimpsed the smiling face of Matilda, the fairy. But the very next moment, his parents cheerfully resumed chatting, and everything was as it should be.

The page announced the arrival of the royal family. Empress Kaliya turned to her son with a smile and whispered:

“Don’t look so gloomy. Vatroslav and I have thought it over and decided that you should choose your own wife, after all. It will be wonderful! You shall choose her at the spring ball in two weeks. All the girls will wear masks, and the one with whom you dance the first dance will become your wife. That way, fate will be best satisfied. Now welcome Lydia properly. And smile, for heaven’s sake.”

The prince looked at her in astonishment and then smiled, as requested. So, Matilda had not been a dream. And best of all, she had kept her promise. Now he only had to hope he wouldn’t end up with some monster. And not a princess. They were the hardest to get rid of.

Vladislav, feeling tremendously happy, awaited Lydia’s arrival. The doors opened, and King Rovin and Queen Lisa were the first to enter. He thanked them most ingratiatingly for coming.

Then, Princess Lydia entered.

Tsarevich was studying his fingernails when she approached, and he casually lifted his gaze toward her.

At that moment, he made a tremendous effort to stop his eyes from bulging in astonishment. Before him stood the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life—and he had seen many.  She curtsied, and a black curl fell across her forehead so lovely that Vladislav, gazing into her eyes, forgot to return the greeting.

The emperor cleared his throat, and the empress discreetly nudged Vladislav, so he came to his senses and took Lydia’s hand. Afterward, the royal family withdrew to their chambers to rest until dinner, and the prince retreated to his rooms at the speed of light and threw himself onto the bed (which once again tore apart the newly spun web of the aforementioned spider, who then decided to move elsewhere).

He was enchanted!

He was astonished!

He was hopelessly foolish!

What kind of reaction was that? He was behaving as though he had never seen a female being in his life. One pretty girl, more or less. Big deal.

What Vladislav did not want to admit to himself was that he could hardly wait for dinner time to arrive.

Lydia was a princess — and a beautiful one at that, which was quite rare — and she was very well aware of it. She rejected marriage proposals from various princes, counts, and shahs from other countries and parts of the empire because she wanted to make the best possible use of what she had. And what could be better than an imperial crown?

Now the opportunity she had been waiting for had finally appeared. How he had stared at her! As if he had never seen a woman in his life. Lydia smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Her parents hadn’t told her anything, but it seemed that something was being arranged. And it looked like that something was a marriage to Vladislav — or whatever his name was…

There were still two weeks left until the ball. By then, everything would be settled.

Nervously, she called her two personal maids to help her bathe. She had to rest before dinner. She wanted to shine, and that was difficult with layers of travel dust on her.

One maid’s name was Tilia, and the other’s Leona. Lydia should have remembered which was which, but she didn’t bother. She would dismiss them soon anyway. Empresses, after all, were served only by women of noble birth, not by ordinary, half-trained peasant girls.

The maids hurried at her call, because they knew how unpleasant Lydia could be when she was tired. Leona had spent the entire journey through the blizzard sitting beside the coachman because Lydia’s fur coat hadn’t been warm enough. Leona noticed Tilia watching her cheeks, which were burning as if with fever, and she said to her:

“Don’t worry. I’ve survived worse.”

Lydia shouted for them to hurry, which they silently did. When the princess was finally clean and ready for her afternoon rest, the two of them went to the kitchen to find something to eat.

The kitchen was warm and pleasant, perhaps a bit noisy, but cheerful. The head cook was shouting at the assistants, and in one corner, the servants were carefully polishing the gold and silver cutlery. Only a few short hours remained until the ceremonial dinner.

Leona and Tilia settled onto a bench in the corner by the stove so they wouldn’t get in the way of the pages who were strutting about with their heads and noses held so high they seemed to slice the sky. They sat there laughing at a servant who had spilled a plate of pepper — which made the entire kitchen sneeze — when suddenly an unfamiliar young man dressed in black appeared in the kitchen.

All at once, everyone grew silent. They all bowed to the ground and waited for the young man to do something, but he merely waved his hand carelessly for them to continue working and walked over to the head cook.

Tilia pulled Leona, who was watching in confusion, closer to the ovens.

“Do you see that young man beside the head cook? Do you know who that is?”

Leona studied the tall, dark-haired man without recognizing him.

“No, I don’t.”

“That’s the crown prince himself, beard and all. That’s the one Princess Lydia is supposed to marry. Or so they say.”

“Crown Prince Vladislav?” Leona said in surprise. “Well… he looks so… ordinary.”

“What did you expect — a horn in the middle of his forehead?” Tilia laughed.

“No, but he should be serious, frowning, talking down to the cook, and not like this… ordinary.”

“You don’t like that he smiles?”

“I don’t know, maybe. Still, he’s more handsome when he smiles.”

“He’s handsome even when he doesn’t!” Tilia sighed. “That Lydia has more luck than sense.”

Leona laughed at her friend’s gloomy expression and turned to return to the bench in the corner. In doing so, she collided with that same unfortunate servant who had previously spilled the pepper and was now carrying a new bowl of the precious spice. The servant staggered and lurched toward the crown prince while pepper scattered over the astonished faces of the staff. Amid the renewed outbreak of sneezing that followed, Leona saw only the furious servant apologizing to the crown prince and pointing in her direction, and the cook shouting that both the servant and she — and the bowl of pepper — would be punished.

“It was her — one of the princess’s maids!” the servant protested.

The crown prince looked at Leona, who stood there confused and changing colors, and waved his hand.

“Leave her alone. Besides, I haven’t laughed this much in a long time.”

Then Vladislav left, and Leona fled with Tilia to the servants’ quarters.

“Good thing that wasn’t Lydia. With her, the whole thing wouldn’t have passed without consequences,” said Leona.

“Next time watch where you’re going.” Tilia looked at her worriedly. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I am, I’m fine. Just a little tired. Oh, Tilia — if only a person could change their own life.”

“And what then?”

“Then you and I would be two princesses appearing at the spring ball and being the most beautiful…”

Leona closed her eyes and dozed off that very moment. And so she didn’t hear Tilia, who, watching her gently, whispered:

“You already are a princess, my poor Leona.”

Vladislav returned to his room, smiling whenever he recalled the events in the kitchen. Lydia’s arrival had brought at least a bit of life into the stale atmosphere of this boring castle. He sat for several minutes staring into the fireplace and then called for Horatio. Those tailors he had dismissed last week might actually be of some use. It wouldn’t be fair to appear at the ball poorly dressed—especially not with the royal family present. And besides, one could easily grow tired of wearing only black.

This unusual bout of fussing over his appearance had nothing whatsoever to do with the beautiful princess, of course. Vladislav was completely certain of that.

Dinner passed as dinners at the imperial court usually did—with one important difference. Vladislav was not listlessly poking at his plate with his fork; instead, he was trying to impress his guest, and his parents were not looking at him with disappointment but smiling proudly.

No one noticed Lydia’s remark that the soup was too salty—least of all the prince, who was busy staring at her eyes. They had just served the fruit cake when the princess awkwardly dropped a cherry onto her lovely dress. Lydia shrieked in horror. The maid waiting in the background rushed over at the cry and used all her skill to remove the stain. When she finished, Lydia examined the result.

“You’re not even capable of that, Leona. You’ve ruined my dress,” she muttered angrily and shoved her aside.

The girl staggered and nearly fell. Only then did the prince look at her. Wasn’t that the maid from the kitchen he had met earlier that day? He started to say something, but the girl had already withdrawn, and Lydia—calm and cheerful again—turned back to him.

“These servants are getting more and more incompetent. I’ll have to find another one!” she said.

And Vladislav, carried away by her cheerful chatter, soon forgot all about it.

Several days passed, enchanting and wonderful ones. Vladislav had never known life could be so interesting. More and more guests were arriving at the castle, and he found it increasingly difficult to decide whom to give his time to. Lydia often needed a companion for her afternoon walks, and Vladislav was hospitable enough to always be at her disposal. The snow had melted, so all the charming paths in the palace garden had turned muddy. It was therefore more pleasant for them to stroll along the paved roads that disappeared into the forests around the castle.

One day, the princess stopped in delight when she spotted freshly blooming violets. She ran to the clearing and began picking them passionately.

Vladislav smiled and started after her. But then he had a better idea. Why not circle the clearing and surprise Lydia from the other side? That would surely amuse her. With that in mind, he ordered his escort to stay where they were and headed into the forest.

Unfortunately, Vladislav had slept through all his survival skills lessons, and the undergrowth around him was quite dense, so he soon bitterly regretted setting off on the adventure at all. No matter which direction he looked, everything appeared the same. He was just about to start calling for help—rather undignified—when he realized he was not alone.

Standing before him, to his surprise, was the good fairy Matilda.

“Well then, young sir, have we gotten lost?” she asked.

Vladislav cleared his throat and replied somewhat uncertainly (which can be forgiven, given the significance of such an encounter):

“What’s it to you?”

“Oh, I see you don’t need me,” said the fairy, sweeping her cloak as if preparing to disappear.

Vladislav saw that stubbornness wouldn’t get him anywhere, so he hurried to apologize to the fairy.

“I do need you, all right. I just don’t like how you always appear suddenly and without any respect. I am a prince, after all!”

“A prince! Ha—you look more like a lovestruck gander to me.”

“Me, in love? And with whom, may I ask, you witch?”

“Don’t call me a witch, or I’ll disappear at once, and you can manage on your own. And before that, I’ll turn you into a gander, which you already are,” Matilda huffed. “You’re in love with that overdressed chatterbox, Lydia. That’s obvious to anyone with eyes.”

“This has really gone too far!” the prince said angrily. “I never want to see you again in my life. Besides, I didn’t even need you. You can freely put everything back the way it was. I have no objection to marrying Lydia. She’s at least tolerable. I’m not going to risk choosing some monster at that ball.”

At this, the fairy smiled somewhat spitefully (which doesn’t really suit a good fairy, but sometimes that’s how it goes).

“That won’t be possible. What has once been changed cannot be undone—even if I wanted to help you. At that ball, you will choose your wife, and if it is Lydia, you will get your monster. I am only fulfilling the wish you made a few days ago.”

Then Fairy Matilda turned and, forgetting her magical powers, began pushing her way through the branches. As she left, the prince heard her muttering:

“Any sensible fairy would have turned this rude boy into a frog long ago. And here I am, still helping him. Serves me right for meddling with humans.”

Vladislav looked around anxiously. By some magic, however, the branches parted, and he easily found his way back.

But something was bothering him. In a few days, the ball would take place, and he was supposed to choose a girl. Until now, he hadn’t thought about it—but what if that girl wasn’t Lydia?

The Winter Palace, lavishly decorated, sparkled in the light of great chandeliers and small candleholders. Vladislav sat in the library reading a book, or at least trying to. In truth, he was so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed he hadn’t turned the page for half an hour.

At that moment, a servant entered to inform him that his parents were once again summoning him for a conversation.

Vladislav wearily made his way to the reception room.

His mother spoke first:

“Dear son, we have called you so that you may join us in welcoming Duke Ivan, who is arriving from the eastern provinces. The second reason is that we have not seen you very often these days, and we think we should talk.”

“What’s new?” Vladislav yawned.

“We have noticed that you have changed since Princess Lidia’s arrival.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and we are glad about it. Of course, our arrangement about the ball still stands. That was your wish, after all,” said the emperor, sounding a little like Fairy Matilda.

Vladislav had just opened his mouth to say something when the servants announced Duke Ivan.

The prince was about Vladislav’s age, blond, with cheerful eyes, and strangely familiar. Tsarevitch felt as though he knew him from somewhere, but he couldn’t remember where. The last time the ducal family had visited the imperial city, Vladislav had still been in diapers, and Ivan could not have been much older.

Ivan greeted everyone informally, which no one held against him, since they were all far too charmed to insist on protocol. Vladislav looked him over suspiciously.

“Will you join us for dinner?” he asked, while his parents examined the lavish gifts the duke had brought.

“Of course,” Ivan replied. “Though I hope it won’t be one of those boring dinners. Will there be any splendid young ladies present?”

“There will certainly be ladies, but whether they are splendid, you will have to decide for yourself,” Vladislav replied. “And tomorrow there will be a hunt.”

“A hunt? I don’t like hunts much. I hate killing animals,” Ivan told him confidentially.

Tsarevitch laughed. He had thought he was the only man in the empire who hated hunting.

“So do I,” he admitted. “But today’s hunts aren’t really hunts in the true sense of the word. They’re more like outings—unless by ‘prey’ you mean the young ladies, of whom there will be plenty.”

“In that case, count me in!” came Ivan’s cheerful reply.

When the duke was escorted to his chambers, Vladislav still hadn’t decided whether he liked him or not. His parents were delighted with the young nobleman who had not yet been presented at court. In any case, it was a new, young face among the old men who mostly governed the state—someone, perhaps, with whom one could actually talk.

When dinner time came, Tsarevitch, having barely freed himself from his attendants, went down to the banquet hall. There he saw Ivan sitting on a sofa in the antechamber reserved for servants, twirling a small flower in his hand. He approached him and said:

“If my father sees that you picked a flower from the decorations, you’ll fall into permanent disgrace.”

“Fortunately, I picked this flower in the garden.”

“In that case, you’ll fall into disgrace with my mother.”

“In that case, I’d better hide it before hostile eyes notice it,” Ivan said.

Vladislav laughed, and the two of them walked together into the great hall, already filled with people. Everyone bowed deeply, watching with interest the new face who seemed to be on good terms with Tsarevitch.

The shy glances of the girls mixed with the approving smiles of their mothers, while everything was dominated by the somewhat jealous whispering of their fathers. Vladislav was already used to this, and Ivan seemed to feel perfectly at ease as well. After being introduced to several of the most important people in the empire (and their daughters), the duke gratefully grabbed a glass of some drink and withdrew to a corner.

Soon Vladislav joined him, bored with polished flattery and—though he did not want to admit it—rather liking this unusual young man.

Thus, Vladislav learned that Ivan’s father had died recently and that the burden of governing the province had fallen on the unfortunate young duke. He had proved quite capable at ruling, but he didn’t like it. He wished to live comfortably and without many obligations, though he was not naive enough to believe that would ever truly happen. He liked wine, good food, and women. Still, he did not overindulge in anything, unlike his father, who had been known for drunken sprees and extramarital adventures.

“I’m convinced I have at least half a dozen illegitimate half-brothers and half-sisters scattered around the world,” the duke told him indifferently. “Unfortunately, none of them has offered to help me run the dukedom.”

However, the arrival of Princess Lydia interrupted their conversation. Vladislav stopped in mid-sentence. Ivan quietly said:

“Who is that, if I may ask?”

“That’s Princess Lydia. She was supposed to be my fiancée,” Vladislav said, not quite knowing why—perhaps because he didn’t like the look the duke gave the princess.

“And why was she supposed to be? Were the betrothal plans broken off?”

“No, I simply wanted to choose my future wife myself.”

“I wouldn’t have hesitated much,” Ivan replied cheerfully.

At that moment, the princess approached them. She curtsied shyly, but Vladislav did not miss the look of interest she directed at the duke. After introductions, a servant invited the guests to approach the tables, and the entire company, led by the emperor and empress, proceeded toward the lavishly set dinner in strict order.

Vladislav sat at the head of one table, and Lydia was seated near him. Across from her sat Duke Ivan, and the dinner—though very tasty—somehow did not please Tsarevitch at all.

After everything was over, Vladislav withdrew nervously to his chambers. He lay there on the bed, still dressed, for some time, wondering what was happening to him. Princess Lydia was a pleasant young woman, but he was far from being in love with her. Prince Ivan had appealed to him—they had similar views of the world, and he was witty. Yet somehow the combination of those two people did not suit him at all. Simply put, the princess seemed to be enjoying Ivan’s jokes far too much, and he himself did not appear indifferent to Lydia’s beautiful eyes.

And so, Vladislav lay there, feeling a completely new emotion awakening within him—one that, despite his denial, could only be called jealousy.

Around midnight, Vladislav was awakened by terrible hunger. Since at dinner he had been far too occupied watching certain individuals flirt right before his eyes, he had paid little attention to the food, which was now catching up with him. He decided to go down to the kitchen on his own and look for something to eat.

In the hall, Horatio was lying comfortably curled up on the sofa, and not even cannon fire could have woken him, let alone the Tsarevitch’s footsteps, which suited Vladislav just fine at the moment. So, he made his way down to the kitchen rather indecently dressed: the shirt he hadn’t taken off since dinner was completely wrinkled and unbuttoned, and the rest of his clothes were in no better condition. He prayed no one would see him, because that would be the end of his reputation as a neat and well-put-together young man (which, in truth, was entirely inaccurate).

Just as he began to hope he had reached the kitchen unnoticed, he heard someone’s voice. He cautiously approached the door and listened. Someone was crying inside.

No matter how much he feared for his reputation, he couldn’t leave some poor soul to cry without trying to help. He opened the door and peeked inside. It was dark, and he could only make out the outline of someone in a white dress. He took the only candlestick with a burning candle lying around and approached her. He couldn’t see her face, only her blonde hair falling over her shoulders and the hands with which she wiped her tears and stifled her sobs. Suddenly, this reminded him of a dream he had recently had, but which he simply couldn’t recall.

The girl must have heard him sneaking, because she quietly said:

“Go away, Tilia. Don’t bother trying to help me.”

Vladislav cleared his throat and said:

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I am certainly not Tilia.”

At this, the girl startled and looked at him. Frightened by the Tsarevitch’s presence, she swallowed a gasp and tried to run. Vladislav stopped her.

“There’s no need to be afraid. I heard you crying and I want to know why. So, sit here and tell me what happened.”

It was obvious Tsarevitch had no particular talent for comforting people, as the girl was barely holding back from bursting into tears again.

Realizing his mistake, he gestured for her to sit and kindly pressed a glass, which he filled with wine he found on one of the tables, into her hands. He looked at her sympathetically and sat beside her.

“Forgive me if I was rude. You seem familiar somehow. Who are you?”

“I’m the one who spilled pepper on you in the kitchen,” the girl managed to say between sobs.

Vladislav smiled as he remembered.

“Your name is Leona, isn’t it? You’re Princess Lydia’s maid?”

“Yes,” she said, and started weeping again.

Tsarevitch, unsure what he had done wrong this time, placed a hand on her shoulder. He only prayed that no one would happen upon them and find him embracing a maid, as that would be disastrous for his reputation. But by now, he had done so many things catastrophic for his reputation that he had stopped worrying. After all, this maid was in trouble, and as any true gentleman, he ought to comfort her. So, he embraced her with his other arm as well—just to make sure she was being properly consoled.

Leona cried for a few moments against Tsarevitch’s chest before finally coming to her senses and pulling away in alarm. What was this supposed to mean? Things like this never ended well for servants. But she was only a desperate girl in need of comfort, and she didn’t know how to free herself from Tsarevitch’s embrace without offending him.

They remained like that for a few moments, and then Leona withdrew. To her relief, Tsarevitch did not stop her and simply remained seated, waiting for an explanation.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I would only like to know who made you cry so inconsolably. That person should truly be ashamed.”

Leona sighed and said:

“The princess dismissed me from service. She told me to leave tonight, and I have nowhere to go. I have no money, no food, no clothes… nothing.”

A tear slipped from her eye despite her effort to remain composed.

“And why did she dismiss you?”

“Because I pulled her hair while combing it. I really didn’t mean to—her hair was terribly tangled.”

“What a foolish reason to dismiss someone. If I acted like that, my Horatio would have been hanged long ago, considering what a clumsy servant he is,” said Vladislav, wondering how someone as beautiful as Lydia could be so unjust. He was inclined to think the girl might be lying to excuse herself, but then he remembered Lydia’s behavior at dinner and how she had pushed this servant.

Meanwhile, Leona suppressed her despair and began to think about where she would go now. Tsarevitch may have meant well, but he couldn’t help her. She glanced at him discreetly. He looked so approachable, with his tousled hair and wrinkled clothes—but that was an illusion. They did not belong to the same world.

Tsarevitch noticed Leona’s defeated expression and suddenly felt a chivalrous urge to help this poor, gentle creature, which led him to do something quite impulsive.

He said:

“How would you like to work as a maid for my mother?”

“For your mother, Your Highness? Does she even know that you are hiring a dismissed servant on her behalf?”

“Well, to be honest, she doesn’t,” said Vladislav, pausing to think. “Since I wouldn’t like to do things without my mother’s knowledge—especially regarding her staff—I suggest something else. Be my maid.”

“Your maid, Your Highness?” the girl exclaimed. “But what would you need a maid for?”

“You could, for example, clean my piano. Horatio can’t do it properly anyway.”

“Thank you for your generous offer, Your Highness, but don’t you know Princess Lydia would be furious if she saw me working for you?”

“Who cares about Princess Lydia?” said the prince, somewhat surprised at himself for saying such a thing, especially since, in his case, it wasn’t true at all.

But the sight of Leona freed him from such thoughts, and he repeated his offer even more firmly. And since Leona was in no position to choose, you can guess what her final answer was.

At that moment, Tilia entered the kitchen. She barely noticed Tsarevitch and didn’t even greet him properly. Still, as she led Leona away to the servants’ quarters, Vladislav caught her glance and it puzzled him greatly. For that look, and those eyes, reminded him strongly of someone, though he couldn’t recall who.

This evening hadn’t been very successful for him when it came to remembering things. First, he couldn’t remember who Duke Ivan reminded him of… then these two maids also seemed familiar. Perhaps they resembled Duke Ivan? Perhaps all people from those regions looked alike?

And so Vladislav went back to his room, lost in thought and somewhat pleased with himself, having completely forgotten why he had gone to the kitchen in the first place. But that hardly mattered anymore.

The next day dawned—the day of the hunt. The weather was unusually fine for that time of year; the sun blazed high in the sky as if the plains had not been covered in snow just the day before. The emperor and empress led the procession on their highbred horses, followed by other nobles and the court retinue.

Riding right behind his parents was Tsarevitch. Many a maiden secretly sighed as she watched him and Duke Ivan escort Princess Lydia, and the hearts of young noblemen, as well as some older ones, could not remain unmoved by the princess’s beauty. Vladislav and Ivan occasionally exchanged hostile glances over her shoulders.

The emperor and empress soon separated from the rest, likely wishing to relive memories of their first meeting in the forest. Now that he was older and understood life better, Vladislav marvelled that after all these years their love was still so strong. From what he knew of his parents’ past, his mother had spent her childhood in the forest, living with a local sorceress. One day, the emperor’s envoys came to the forest searching for the woman destined for the young crown prince. According to ancient custom, the wife of each heir to the throne was chosen with the help of magic and fate. Such marriages were always harmonious and happy, even though the spouses had often never met before, which only confirmed that the soothsayers knew what they were doing. Thus, Kaliya became empress without even realizing it. But, to everyone’s surprise, she refused to come to the palace, even though she agreed to the marriage on the condition that the crown prince come personally and propose to her. Vatroslav came, quite intrigued by the stubborn girl, bearing lavish gifts.

The rest of the story his parents had never told him in detail, but Vladislav had heard rumors of a storm, and how his father had been forced to remain in the forest for weeks, during which time he and his future wife had come to know each other, grown close, and stayed together for the rest of their lives. Vladislav’s mother often repeated that she wished the same happiness for him, but since his own soothsayer had first been too drunk to say anything and then died without even hinting where to look for his future empress, they had to manage as best they could.

Meanwhile, the hunt had intensified, and everyone was so occupied that they did not notice the disappearance of the Tsarevitch, the princess, and the duke. Having decided they had had enough of the bloodthirsty chase, the three of them took a remote path into the untouched depths of the forest. Moss muffled the sound of the horses’ hooves along a trail no one had used for years. Only birdsong could be heard, and the scent of approaching spring lingered in the air.

Soon they reached a clearing and stopped to rest.

“It is truly improper that I am here alone with the two of you,” Lydia said shyly. “I hope my mother won’t be too angry if she finds out.”

Vladislav was about to reply with something affectionate, but Ivan spoke first:

“I doubt your mother would be too upset that you are alone in the company of a wealthy duke and an even wealthier Tsarevitch,” he remarked. There was a strange coldness in his voice, and Vladislav concluded, somewhat pleased, that the duke did not seem to like Lydia at all.

Lydia frowned at him. “My mother cares about my reputation.”

“That’s why she allows you to flirt only with rich noblemen.”

Lydia flushed with anger. Even Vladislav noticed the insult. Her helpless glance in his direction demanded he do something, but he did not react, perhaps because he sensed a grain of truth in Ivan’s words. Lidia exclaimed:

“How dare you! If I were a man, you would already have paid for that insult.”

“But you are not a man—you are an exceptionally beautiful young lady,” the duke replied with a smile.

This only seemed to enrage Lydia further, and she angrily mounted her horse and rode back. Vladislav hesitated, then moved to follow her, but Ivan stopped him.

“Let her go. She deserved it.”

“Why? What has she done for you to be so heartless toward her?”

Ivan sighed and said:

“You do not deserve a woman like Lydia. Everything she does is a mere pretence. There are no real feelings there. She needs someone who knows how to handle that, and that is not you, Your Highness.”

“And how do you know her so well? As I recall, you only met her yesterday. And besides, why do you think I am not right for her?”

“Because, Your Highness, you strike me as an incurable romantic. And Lydia does not love you. My advice is to forget her.”

“And leave her to you?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. She is beautiful and clever, but she does not know how to love.”

“And you would teach her?” Vladislav said mockingly.

Ivan laughed at the anger that had overtaken Tsarevitch.

“I do not consider myself a particularly good teacher of anything,” he said cheerfully, “but a connection with Lydia’s family would strengthen both her position and mine, and ease your concerns about the southeastern border. Fortunately, I do not have to listen to seers—I can choose a wife out of pure interest. Here is my proposal: by the beginning of the spring ball, Lydia will agree to become my wife. She will forget the status she would gain by marrying you and accept becoming a duchess instead of an empress.”

Vladislav replied disdainfully:

“I have not sunk so low as to gamble over a girl. And you should mind your behaviour.”

“If I fail, I will help you choose her as your future wife at the spring ball.”

“And where did you get that idea?”

“You just need to listen more carefully to what the servants are saying. So… Do you agree?”

“Why do you think I could not choose her without your help?”

“I think that will be nearly impossible,” Ivan said. “Believe me, none of this is a coincidence.”

Vladislav frowned, suddenly suspicious. Could Ivan be referring to the fairy Matilda? But how could he possibly know?

And indeed, Ivan looked completely innocent, idly patting his horse’s muzzle.

“Just think. Many mothers will be eager to marry off their daughters at the spring ball, so Lydia will have no chance whatsoever of crossing your path at the right moment. Not to mention all those girls who look like her, especially once they put on masks. You will have a very difficult task.”

“Very well. I am trying to be a gentleman, not a coward. And since that is clearly not working, I accept your wager. If by the spring ball you announce your engagement, I will personally see to it that you are given whatever you desire as a gift. Otherwise, Lydia is mine. And now we might return—or better yet, head back to the palace for a game of cards.”

The duke looked at him in surprise.

“You are not angry with me?” he asked.

“Strangely enough, no. Perhaps because I would like us to be friends despite everything.”

“I could wish for no better friend than you, Your Highness,” Ivan said with a bow.

Tsarevitch extended his hand in reconciliation, which the duke accepted.

“The things I do for the southeastern border,” Vladislav said with an exaggerated sigh.

Ivan laughed and spurred his horse. “Race you to the palace!”

“You really do like to tempt fate!” Vladislav shouted, hurrying after him.

After riding away in such fury, it took Lydia quite a while to calm down. Ivan’s words had been sharp and had struck their target. And unlike before, they hurt. Lydia knew very well why.

The previous evening, after Tsarevitch had left, she had found herself alone with Ivan in the garden. The encounter truly had been accidental, even though such things in her life were usually carefully planned ever since she had become old enough for marriage.

This time was different. Lydia knew how to make men lose their heads; her entire upbringing had prepared her for exactly that. But now she had met someone who was her equal. The duke was so amusing, sincere, intelligent—or at least he was good at pretending. In the end, Lydia found herself telling him about her parents’ plans to marry her off to Tsarevitch, something she did not mind, considering the power and wealth that came with becoming empress. What she did not say was that, in truth, she didn’t care at all. The cage in which such marriage would place her might be larger and nicer than the one in which she had grown up, but it was still a cage.

After her confession, the duke had excused himself and left, and today he had been so rude. He must have thought she was someone interested only in personal gain. Perhaps that was true, if she thought about it carefully, but it was not the whole truth. Things, like people, were never that simple.

Lydia suddenly lost all desire to join the hunt. She decided to return to the castle, which took some time because she rode along a roundabout path so no one would see her crying. By the time she arrived, she had gathered enough composure to claim that she had been overcome by weakness and to convince her parents that all she needed was some peace, without anyone disturbing her. After dismissing the maids from her room, she stood before the mirror and fixed her hair. In the past, she had always taken pleasure in admiring her own beauty, but now the reflection in the mirror brought tears to her eyes while Ivan’s words echoed in her ears.

She hurried into the adjoining room, the one with doors leading out onto the terrace. Perhaps all she needed was fresh air and the illusion of freedom. Fortunately, the terrace was almost empty. Lydia walked briskly, eager to leave behind the strange emotions overwhelming her. She reached the corner without slowing down and was just about to turn when she collided with someone. To her horror, she realized it was Ivan.

“Let me pass,” she said, even though there was enough room on the terrace for two carriages to pass side by side.

“You’re crying,” Ivan observed, demonstrating remarkable powers of perception. “Did my words hurt you that much?”

“I’m not crying because of your stupid words,” Lydia snapped, angry that he had noticed her tears.

“Then why? Are you allergic to something?”

“I fell off my horse,” Lydia replied, inventing the stupidest excuse possible. Anything, so long as he would leave her alone.

“Then you need help,” he exclaimed, frowning with concern. To her immense astonishment, he lifted her into his arms and carried her.

“Your chambers are this way?” he asked.

Lydia could only nod, still in shock, though she could not help noticing that Ivan carried her with ease, even though, with her full riding dress and equipment, she must have weighed a ton. After a few steps, however, she realized that being carried was overrated.

“Put me down,” she cried.

“Are you alright?” Ivan asked, studying her carefully, his face far too close to hers.

“Other than my corset trying to stab through my ribs, yes, I’m perfectly fine,” Lydia said, wriggling out of his arms. Ivan quickly set her down. “My room is right here anyway. Thank you for your help.”

“Promise me you will call for the court physician to examine you,” Ivan insisted.

Lydia merely waved her hand impatiently. “You really need to decide whether you despise me or care about me,” she said before turning to go inside.

“Can’t I do both?” Ivan called after her.

Some time later, evening descended as it always did, unaware of the multitude of events—important or not, that is for you to decide—that had taken place that day. Tsarevitch prepared for bed, wondering about the meaning of Horatio’s reproachful looks. Around midnight, he found out the reason behind them.

The weather had turned colder, and he wanted the window closed. He let out a series of indistinct noises meant to summon a servant to do it—or perhaps two servants, since the windows were rather large—when the door suddenly opened. Vladislav expected Horatio’s clumsy head to appear, but instead, a young woman entered the room.

He froze in fear at the thought that this might be some relative of the fairy Matilda come to torment him, but he soon relaxed. It was only a maid responding to his call. Nothing unusual at all. Since when did he have a maid?

Then he remembered. It was Leona, the consequence of his outburst of compassion the previous evening. Well then, at least she was doing her job.

“You called for someone?” she asked softly.

“Yes. It’s cold, and I want the window closed.”

“Right away.”

“You may need Horatio’s help. The windows are too large and tend to get stuck.”

“Oh, no,” she said with a smile. “It’s all a matter of technique.”

And indeed, she quickly and efficiently shut the window and drew the curtains.

“How is it that Horatio isn’t outside?” Vladislav wondered.

“I offered to replace him. He looked rather exhausted. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No,” he replied. “You seem capable of closing a window. As for Horatio, he isn’t exhausted. Unless sleeping too much has exhausted him.”

The girl bowed and paused, waiting for Tsarevitch to dismiss her. But now that the moment had come to send her outside, where she belonged, Vladislav discovered that he did not feel like letting her leave. He was not sleepy—he wanted to talk.

“Nights are so boring,” he said. “Sit in that armchair over there and let’s talk.”

Leona sat down, fidgeting uncomfortably. But Vladislav had no ulterior motives, and to make that clear, he sat upright in bed and pulled the blankets up to his chin.

“Have you ever attended the Spring Ball?” he asked.

“No, Your Highness. But the royal family often held receptions.”

“The Spring Ball is not an ordinary reception. It’s… the Spring Ball. The largest in the entire country. And the most luxurious.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“And I hate balls,” Vladislav said.

Leona frowned, clearly confused by his words.

“Why do you hate balls? Is there anything more beautiful than dancing to all that wonderful music, surrounded by people…”

“It sounds great when you describe it like that. But at this ball, I’m supposed to choose a wife. Imagine! A wife!”

“That can’t be so terrible. Doesn’t the thought of finding a life companion make you happy? Someone who will love you, and whom you will love? Someone with whom you’ll have children, children you’ll watch grow up, start families of their own, and continue the tradition… Isn’t the meaning of life found precisely in… family, Your Highness?”

“And what if I marry someone who won’t love me, nor I her, and our children turn out spoiled and incompetent? Where’s the meaning of life then?”

“You really have no faith in destiny, or in people, or even in yourself. Why do you think that out of all the girls in this empire, you would choose one impossible to love? Or that it would be impossible for someone to love you, if only you tried a little?”

“Life isn’t a fairy tale,” he protested.

“No, it isn’t. But that shouldn’t stop us from enjoying every moment of it. And from believing that things will end in the best possible way.”

Something in her warm voice made Tsarevitch look at her more carefully. He was not accustomed to such displays of optimism. How did some people manage to remain full of joy for life, even when nothing seemed to go in their favor?

After Leona left, Vladislav lay awake for a long time, thinking. At last, not a trace of doubt or bitterness remained in him. Whatever happened, he would still remain the crown prince, wealthy and surrounded by countless servants and maids, while Leona would forever have to keep watch, waiting for the arrogant summons of some rich lady, cleaning, tidying, and laboring simply to survive. He had spent all his time complaining about fate, but had it not been far more generous to him than to thousands of others?

If Leona could be happy, then he had no excuse for feeling otherwise.

Quietly and almost unnoticed, the few days until the Spring Ball passed as well. Nothing important happened during that time. Vladislav still thought about Lydia, Lydia about Duke Ivan, and Ivan about the fact that if he kept eating so much, none of his suits would fit him anymore, so he would have to appear naked at the ball. Meanwhile, the fairy Matilda was the only one thinking about everything and everyone.

The morning of the ball dawned hectic and noisy. There was not a single quiet corner to be found in the castle. Everyone thought only about the upcoming celebration. It was already an open secret that the crown prince would choose his future wife at the ball, so all the ladies of marriageable age embellished themselves to the point of exhaustion. What was on Vladislav’s mind, however, was something entirely different. Namely, the wager. You probably remember which one.

Vladislav listened carefully, but there was still no mention whatsoever of any engagement between Duke Ivan and Princess Lydia. So, after lunch, he sneaked off to Ivan’s chambers and burst in uninvited. He found Ivan lounging on a sofa, pleased to see him arrive.

“You won’t be so happy when you hear why I’m here,” said Vladislav.

“I know,” Ivan replied gloomily. “About the wager.”

“Exactly. Now let’s see what you’ve done about it.”

“So far — nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“No, but I intend to. I’ll ask her at the ball, before your decisive dance. If I fail, I’ll run straight to you… wait, no, that won’t work.”

“I agree,” said Vladislav. “You’d better think of something else.”

Ivan thought for a few moments, then smiled.

“This is ridiculous. We’re sitting here plotting how to snatch one girl. I almost regret making that bet in the first place.”

“I said that from the beginning, but it was your idea. Now deal with it however you can.”

“All right then. Tonight, before the ball begins, I’ll send you a message with an exact description of the princess’s gown and everything else. If they announce our engagement at the ball, you’ll ignore it, but otherwise… well, good luck!”

Ivan laughed, though none of it seemed particularly funny to him. Even though he refused to admit it, the princess mattered to him for more than just the wager.

Meanwhile, Tilia and Leona were busy in the kitchen, which resembled a volcanic crater right before the explosion because the frenzy there had reached its peak. The two of them had to be careful not to have their heads knocked off by some careless servant mistaking them for table decorations. Yet despite the chaos, or perhaps because of it, the kitchen was the only place where the two of them could freely discuss the flood of events that had happened lately.

“This castle is so wonderful! I wish this ball and these celebrations could last forever. Then you would never have to leave,” Leona said to Tilia.

“I wouldn’t have to leave if Tsarevitch happened to choose Lydia at the ball and marry her,” Tilia replied dryly. “Would you like that?”

Leona frowned.

“It would be wonderful if the two of us never had to part, but Tsarevitch and the princess… no. I can’t imagine someone like him with someone like Lydia. He’s too good, and she… isn’t.”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but something strange has happened to Lydia,” said Tilia. “She doesn’t seem like herself anymore.”

“Really?”

“Take my word for it. It’s as if she’s a completely different person. She sighs all day, stares out the window, fidgets around the room… almost as if she’s fallen in love.”

“In love? Her? But with whom?”

“That I don’t know. But I doubt it’s our unfortunate Tsarevitch.”

Leona sighed while looking at the luxurious dishes being prepared and the beautiful plates and silverware polished to a brilliant shine.

“All of this just to create a stage for an event that will ruin someone’s life,” she said thoughtfully. “And yet I would still give up a month of my life if I could spend even one hour dancing at the ball.”

Tilia smiled slyly as she listened to her.

“And what would you give if you could attend the entire celebration?”

“Don’t mock me. I know that’s impossible,” Leona said, closing her eyes. “But I’ll hide near the ballroom and listen to the music all evening, and it’ll almost be as if I were really there.”

“Open your eyes and listen to what I have to tell you. There will be crowds of people at the ball, especially girls. One more or less, no one will notice — especially not if she’s already inside the castle when the celebration begins. So, if a certain girl somehow managed to get herself a ball gown, who would know she wasn’t one of the guests? Who?”

“Tilia, stop. Besides, even if that were true, where would that servant girl get a ball gown?”

“I don’t know, but by chance, Princess Lydia decided she’d had enough of one of her dresses and wished for it to be thrown away. And by chance, she said this to a servant who cleaned and repaired the dress and decided that instead of throwing it away, she would give it to you.”

Leona covered her mouth to stifle a cry of surprise. Tilia glanced around to check whether anyone had overheard them, but everyone was far too busy to pay attention to others.

“You really have a dress for me?” Leona asked in disbelief. Then she frowned. “But wouldn’t you rather wear it yourself?”

“Me? What are you thinking? I can’t dance at all. Come now, there are still a few little things to alter on the dress. And you also need to refresh your memory on proper etiquette. It wouldn’t be good if they discovered you. And you know already — don’t draw attention to yourself and disappear before the ball ends.”

Without a word, Leona followed her, barely able to breathe from excitement at the thought of the deception they were preparing to carry out.

At almost that exact time, a message reached Tsarevitch, written in handwriting Vladislav recognized as Ivan’s.

“The princess’s personal maid told me that Lydia will wear a white dress tonight, trimmed with gold embroidery, and at the masquerade she’ll also have a green veil and a mask shaped like a human face, something like a sea nymph, or whatever. If you fail to recognize her, I’ll be nearby to help.”

Vladislav sighed with relief. Part of him still wasn’t convinced he wanted Lydia as his wife, but what choice did he have? Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. Maybe in the end everything would turn out all right.

“This is the dress,” said Tilia. “And this mask goes with it.”

“This… this is like something from a dream,” Leona said happily.

With the mask covering her entire face, she wasn’t afraid anyone might recognize her. And if nothing else, she knew very well how to be invisible. Somehow, she was certain that in the end everything would turn out all right.