Young Writers Society

Chapter 7: Shadows in the Ballroom

The grand ballroom of Ethelred Royal Academy was a spectacle to behold, draped in silken banners bearing the crests of prominent families and lit by the warm glow of crystal chandeliers. Tonight’s event was the Aristocrats’ Gala, a time-honored tradition where students of noble lineage showcased their poise and charm.

Seraphina found herself standing at the edge of the crowd, feeling both mesmerized and out of place. Though her family was no stranger to prestige, she wasn’t used to the airs of aristocratic society.

“Don’t slouch,” Isabelle whispered, nudging her with an elbow. “You’re supposed to look like you belong.”

“I’m trying,” Seraphina muttered, forcing a smile as a group of girls in dazzling gowns glided past.

Dominic was in his element, effortlessly moving from one group to the next, his laugh ringing out like a carefully rehearsed melody. Alexandre, on the other hand, leaned against a pillar, looking bored as ever.

“You should dance,” Isabelle urged, her tone teasing.

“I’m perfectly fine here,” Seraphina replied.

“Fine, but don’t blame me when some count’s grandson accuses you of being antisocial,” Isabelle said, before disappearing into the crowd.

The Aristocratic Comedy

The evening was not without its amusing moments. Lord Percival Whitestone, a portly boy with a penchant for dramatics, managed to spill champagne on Lady Juliana Alderidge’s gown, causing a minor scandal.

“It’s ruined!” Juliana wailed, holding up the stained fabric.

“Truly, I am devastated by my clumsiness,” Percival said, bowing so deeply his monocle fell out.

“Your devastation does nothing for my gown,” Juliana snapped.

The exchange drew chuckles from the surrounding crowd, and even Seraphina couldn’t suppress a laugh.

“Don’t let Juliana’s theatrics fool you,” a voice said beside her.

She turned to see Lady Lavinia Blackthorn, a striking girl with raven-black hair and piercing green eyes. Lavinia was infamous for her sharp wit and sharper tongue.

“She enjoys the attention,” Lavinia continued, a smirk playing on her lips. “Percival just gave her the perfect excuse to make a scene.”

“And you enjoy watching the chaos,” Seraphina replied.

“Of course. What’s the point of these gatherings if not to be entertained?” Lavinia’s gaze shifted to Dominic. “Speaking of chaos, your fencing partner seems to be plotting something.”

Dominic’s New Allies

Sure enough, Dominic was deep in conversation with a group of older students, their crests marking them as heirs to some of the most powerful noble houses in Europe.

“They call themselves the Crimson Circle,” Lavinia said, following Seraphina’s gaze. “An exclusive little faction that controls everything from club politics to the Selection Trials.”

“Why am I not surprised Dominic’s involved?” Seraphina muttered.

“Be careful,” Lavinia warned, her tone unusually serious. “The Crimson Circle doesn’t take kindly to outsiders meddling in their affairs.”

The Mysterious Aristocrat

As the night wore on, a new arrival caught everyone’s attention. A tall, enigmatic boy with silver hair and an air of quiet confidence entered the ballroom. Whispers rippled through the crowd as he made his way to the center of the room.

“That’s Prince Alaric von Hohenberg,” Isabelle whispered, reappearing at Seraphina’s side. “The crown prince of Austria.”

“What’s he doing here?” Seraphina asked, intrigued.

“Rumor has it he’s here for the Selection Trials,” Isabelle replied.

Prince Alaric’s presence immediately shifted the atmosphere. Dominic’s confident demeanor faltered, and even Alexandre looked mildly impressed.

“Looks like the game just got more interesting,” Lavinia said with a sly smile.

The Ballroom Confrontation

Dominic, never one to shy away from a challenge, approached Prince Alaric with his usual charm.

“Your Highness,” Dominic said, bowing slightly. “Welcome to Ethelred. I trust you’ll find the Academy to your liking.”

“I’m sure I will,” Alaric replied, his tone polite but distant.

Their exchange was civil on the surface, but the tension between them was palpable.

Seraphina watched the interaction closely, her instincts telling her that Alaric’s arrival wasn’t coincidental.

A Thrilling Discovery

As the gala continued, Seraphina excused herself from the ballroom, needing a moment to clear her head. She wandered into the Academy’s east wing, a quieter part of the building known for its historical artifacts and portraits of past students.

She paused before a large painting of the Academy’s founders, her eyes drawn to a figure in the background. Something about the figure seemed familiar—the shape of their face, the intensity of their gaze.

“Admiring the artwork?” a voice said behind her.

She turned to see Alexandre, his usual smirk firmly in place.

“Just trying to make sense of it all,” she admitted.

He stepped closer, studying the painting with her. “This Academy has more secrets than anyone realizes. The founders were involved in some… questionable activities.”

“Like what?”

“Let’s just say they didn’t build this school for the sake of education alone,” Alexandre said cryptically.

Before Seraphina could press him for details, they heard footsteps echoing down the corridor.

“Someone’s coming,” Alexandre said, grabbing her hand. “Come on.”

He led her through a hidden door concealed behind a tapestry, pulling it shut just as the footsteps grew louder.

From their hiding spot, they watched as a group of students in crimson cloaks entered the hall, their voices low and urgent.

“They’re meeting again tonight,” one of them said. “The headmaster’s orders.”

Seraphina’s heart raced. What were they talking about? And why did it involve the headmaster?

A Comedy of Errors

As Alexandre and Seraphina made their way back to the dormitories, they stumbled upon another scene of chaos. Lavinia was locked in a heated argument with Percival, who had somehow managed to trap his hand in an antique suit of armor.

“Do you have any idea how expensive that is?” Lav testing its durability,” Percival protested.

“By sticking your hand inside it?” Lavinia exclaimed.

Alexandre couldn’t suppress a laugh, and even Seraphina found herself grinning despite the tension of the evening.

The Letter’s Warning

Back in her room, Seraphina unfolded the mysterious letter she had received the night before. She couldn’t shake the feeling that its warning was connected to what she had just witnessed.

Isabelle noticed her unease. “Are you okay?”

“Just tired,” Seraphina lied, tucking the letter into her journal.

But as she lay in bed that night, her mind refused to rest. The Academy was a chessboard, and she was caught in a game far more dangerous than she had ever imagined.