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“Hic.”
The sudden sob broke through the tense silence of the Crown Prince’s entrance. The source of the sound was none other than Penelope Eckhart.
The ducal princess immediately ducks her head away as heads turn towards her. Confusion permeated the crowd of attendees—and apprehension at the sight of how the girl had drawn the bastard prince’s attention.
“What…” Derrick says, confused eyes trained on his step-sister’s face. He makes a move towards her. “Pen—“
“Penelope?”
Callisto Regulus beats him to it, breathing out her name with inexplicable weight. Within a single breath, he strides his way in front of her. He reaches out and places a palm against her cheek, turning her face towards his own.
An indecipherable emotion swims in his eyes—an emotion that reflects itself perfectly in Penelope’s eyes. They stare at each other as if trapped in their own bubble. Not a single soul dared to break the solemn curtain of silence that blanketed the ballroom.
“Princess, you…?” The prince trails off. His eyes drop to the single tear track stain on Penelope’s cheek and brushes it dry with a swipe of his thumb.
The move startles Penelope into a shaky exhale. She closes her eyes and opens them back with a genuine smile—a smile that catches Derrick (and Reynold if the growing agitated look on his face was any indication) off-guard.
“Your Highness,” Penelope stops and corrects herself. “No, Callisto Regulus.”
Some of the nobles barely withheld their gasps of shock at the Eckhart daughter’s audacity. The Queen trembled in her seat at the rapid turn of events.
But the two were still stuck in their own world, heedless of the reactions of outsiders.
Red eyes widened and trembled, a concoction of hope and fear twisting in the pit of his stomach, as he waited for Penelope to finish.
“I love you too.”
It took several beats, enough time for Derrick to process the sentence—and enough time for Reynold to drop and shatter his glass of wine. Derrick couldn’t stop himself from gaping.
“Penelope!”
“What is the meaning of this?”
Agitation and panic claw up his throat. But despite his and Reynold’s loud shouts, they are left unheard by the couple still stuck who knows where.
Penelope winced and hastily back-tracked, blood reddening her cheeks. “I mean…”
Callisto placed a hand over her lips to stop her from speaking. He bows down his head and, for a moment, Penelope was worried that he changed his mind. The sight of a flush on the tips of his ears and the back of his neck put those worries to rest.
She lets out a huff of laughter when she sees a strange shine in his eyes. She tilts her head to get a better look. “Are you crying?”
Callisto swiftly turns his head away from her laughing gaze. “…I’m not.”
He drops his hand from her face and embraces her. “…I love you, Penelope.”
“You—!”
“Let go of her—!”
Callisto looks up from where he buried his head in the junction of her neck and shoulder to glare at the purpling faces of her step-brothers.
“Why don’t we take this elsewhere, hm, princess?” He says and, before Penelope could voice out her agreement, swept her oof her feet to the palace gardens, ignoring the way the guests parted and stares with bulging eyes as he walked out with the duchal princess in his arms.
The almost-dead assassin Callisto dragged into the ballroom moans in pain.