The Princess Has Four Mates

No Rest for the Weary

Maerilee

The rest of the ball seems to drag on forever. My earlier outburst and the whole ordeal with River leaves a sour taste in my mouth, and despite my best efforts to shake it off, I remain testy for the remainder of the evening. The Oceanans have excused themselves for the night, with King Alastair and Queen Lyria offering a brief, tight-lipped promise of a formal apology tomorrow. I can still see River’s embarrassed, red face in my mind, though the satisfaction I initially felt at calling him out has long since faded. Now, I just want the night to end.

None of the other guests spark even the slightest interest in me. They all blend into one monotonous sea of faces, false pleasantries, and meaningless small talk. I try to keep up appearances, but my thoughts keep drifting elsewhere, particularly to Brook and Akin. Of all the people I’ve met in my life—nobles, commoners, visiting dignitaries—the only ones I’ve ever felt even a faint connection to have been those two. There’s something about Brook’s quiet, steady presence that draws me in, even when he’s being overshadowed by his brother. And then, of course, there’s Akin. He’s been at my side for as long as I can remember, a steady presence I could always rely on. His loyalty and humor have made him a trustworthy companion, and I can’t imagine my life without him.

On the opposite end of the desire spectrum, there’s River. A faint shiver of disgust runs down my spine at the thought of him. I did feel a faint sliver of something when he was around, but it wasn’t attraction. No, it was something much closer to revulsion, if I’m being honest. The way he carries himself, always seeking attention, always trying to one-up everyone in the room is exhausting. I can’t help but wonder if people only tolerate him because he’s the Crown Prince. Either way, I’m certain River isn’t my One.

And if it’s not River, then it’s certainly not anyone else in this room. As I glance around, I can tell with absolute certainty that none of the other ball-goers have what I’m looking for. I’ve tried to remain open, patient, even hopeful, but the tug I expect to feel when I meet my One just isn’t there. My time to find him is growing shorter as the barrier around our kingdom grows weaker every day. A nagging sense of urgency rises within me, the ever-present anxiety that I need to find my One soon, before it’s too late.

I decide I’ve had enough. There’s no point in staying if I’m not enjoying myself, and I’m fairly certain that my One isn’t here tonight. I’ll excuse myself early, return to my chambers, and hopefully get some rest. Maybe tomorrow will bring clarity, or at least a reprieve from this endless search.

Just as I’m about to slip away, though, I feel a presence beside me. I turn, and there stands Direken, Crown Prince of Ambrosia, a confident smirk on his face as he bows slightly. He’s impeccably dressed, his dark hair slicked back, and he carries himself with a kind of self-importance that immediately sets me on edge.

“Princess Maerilee,” he says smoothly, his voice oozing with charm. “Would you do me the honor of sharing a dance before you retire for the evening?”

His boldness catches me off guard, but I quickly recover, reminding myself to remain polite. I know within a second that this man is definitely not my One. Still, I can’t very well refuse without causing a scene, and I’ve had enough drama for one evening.

I smile tightly, giving a small nod.

“Of course, Prince Direken,” I answer demurely. “One dance.”

He leads me onto the dance floor, and the music swells around us. As we begin to move, I can’t help but feel a slight twinge of discomfort. Direken is charming in his own way, sure, but there’s something about him that makes me feel unsettled around him. Perhaps it’s the way he talks, always with an air of superiority, as if he’s trying to impress me with every word. Or maybe it’s the way he looks at me, like I’m some prize to be won, rather than a person he’s genuinely interested in.

“You look stunning tonight,” Direken says, his voice low as we move in time with the music. “I must say, I’ve been looking forward to this dance all evening.”

I force another smile.

“Thank you,” I reply, though my heart isn’t in it. My mind is elsewhere, already counting the minutes until I can excuse myself and leave this ball behind.

Direken continues to talk, though I can’t help but tune him out. He drones on about his family’s wealth, his accomplishments, the grand estates they own, all the things I’m sure I’m supposed to be impressed by. Yet all I feel is a growing sense of irritation. It’s as if he’s more interested in hearing himself speak than in genuinely engaging with me.

Despite his efforts, this dance is nothing more to me than a formality, an obligation I must fulfill before I can finally leave. And the more Direken talks, the more tired I feel. It’s not just physical exhaustion, though the evening has certainly worn on me. It’s a deeper kind of weariness, the kind that comes from constantly searching, constantly hoping, and never quite finding what you’re looking for.

By the time the dance ends, I’m more than ready to be done with it. I step back, offering a polite curtsy.

“Thank you for the dance, Prince Direken,” I say, keeping my voice steady and formal.

“The pleasure was all mine, Princess,” he replies, though I can tell he’s disappointed that the dance is over. He probably thought he could charm me, sweep me off my feet with his grandiose tales and smooth words. But it didn’t work.

With the dance over, I finally allow myself to feel the full weight of my exhaustion. I don’t need to pretend anymore. There’s no more need to put on a smile or engage in polite conversation. I truly am tired, and I’m more than ready to retire for the evening.

“I believe I’ll take my leave now,” I say, glancing around the ballroom one last time. The music continues, couples twirling on the dance floor, their laughter and conversation filling the space. But I’m done. There’s nothing left here for me tonight.

Direken bows once more.

“I hope you’ll consider another dance next time, Your Highness.”

I nod politely, though I know full well there won’t be a next time. As I turn to leave, I feel a sense of relief wash over me. I can finally slip away from the noise, the crowd, the endless expectations.

As I make my way toward the exit, I catch a glimpse of Brook standing near the edge of the ballroom. He’s watching the scene quietly, his expression unreadable, though there’s a softness in his eyes that makes me pause. He hasn’t said much since the incident earlier, and I wonder if he’s still shaken by it.

For a moment, I consider going to him, just to check in, to make sure he’s all right, but something stops me. Maybe it’s the weariness I feel, or maybe it’s the knowledge that tonight isn’t the right time for that conversation. I’ll speak with him tomorrow.

With a final glance around the room, I slip out, grateful to be free of the ball and its suffocating atmosphere.

It’s not just physical exhaustion anymore. It’s the frustration of another night spent searching, hoping, and coming up empty-handed. The truth is, I’m tired of waiting. Tired of pretending that everything will work out in its own time. I know I should be patient, that I have years ahead of me, but the sense of urgency I feel is impossible to ignore.

Something is coming, something big, something dangerous, and I need to be ready. But how can I be ready when I haven’t even found my One? When my powers remain dormant, waiting for the bond that will awaken them?

I manage to escape to the empty hallway, relieved to finally have a moment of peace. It gives me the space I need to breathe and to think. The night has been overwhelming, to say the least, and it’s been completely devoid of the answer I sought.

I don’t know when I’ll find my One, or if I’ll ever find him. But what I do know is that I can’t afford to wait forever. Time is running out, and I can feel the pressure building, a storm on the horizon.

For now, though, all I can do is rest. Tomorrow is another day, and maybe, just maybe, it will bring the answers I’ve been searching for.

I take my leave of the festivities, slipping down the corridor unnoticed. When I finally reach my room, I gratefully collapse in my bed, already wearied from the first ball. It’s going to be a long month.