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It was Julian’s royal duty to attend balls and other celebrations organised by Spanish nobility. He was to act as an ambassador of sorts, making sure to impress the Spanish whenever he interacted with them. Nobility was seemingly still politically relevant, in both Madrid and Paris.

Not exactly falling into this role expected of him, he preferred it when he could go in incognito, and come out without too much notice. Masquerade balls were his favourite in this regard, where he could expect to hide himself among the locals with just a little effort. Once that was achieved, he could talk, drink and dance to his heart’s content, unafraid of needless attention.

This evening was one of those occasions, when Julian entered the grand hall of a Spanish mansion in Valencia, dressed in a simple black suit with a rather elegant black mask covering the top of his face. This particular event was organised as a fundraiser by a prominent member of Spanish nobility, who intrigued Julian for a different reason. He had expected to meet her during his time here, to talk about certain matters, though his heart was yet to be formed for such a meeting; he couldn’t go searching for his hostess without compromising himself.

As he stood under the bright chandeliers, Julian could feel that his heart was not set for a lot of things that evening. In particular, the entire ball seemed less interesting now that he was there. Not that it lacked ceremony or glamour, it was simply a dull feeling in his mind, perhaps caused by his thoughts about home, and perhaps because of his thoughts about Isabel. Even if he would manage to get her a palace at a ball like this, she would decline such an invitation, and dancing in clubs never seemed satisfactory for the young prince.

Deciding to enjoy the evening as much as possible, he walked through the celebrations, with groups of young nobles, and couples, sipping wine and talking, with others walking onto the dance floor, hand in hand, as the music began. Julian weaved through the groups, exchanging a few words now and then, enjoying the anonymity. Only a couple of friends here would know who he really was.

He sat by the edge of a beverage table, accepting a glass of vermouth from a waiter. Sipping it slowly, he watched across the dance floor where the dancing had begun at its full flurry, with illustrious guests in illustrious dresses waltzing across the floor. If this was a usual day, he would’ve received a request for a dance from a beautiful woman soon enough, and he would accept. On a very rare occasion, they would lift their masks and talk somewhere private. But all those interactions ended after that. The only girl he associated with these days was not one he had met at any ball, much less a masquerade one.

Sipping the vermouth, he became aware of a new illustrious arrival at the scene, having come through a set of double doors leading to the residential quarters of the mansion. Something about the newcomer caught his immediate attention as the woman; dressed in a red Spanish gown, came towards them. She wore a silver mask that covered her whole face, hiding her smile or her boredom under its serene expression.

She weaved through the groups as Julian had done, talking to the assembled guests, as she came to the same beverage table Julian stood by. She was evidently someone important, from the reactions she received from the guests, though Julian had not seen her, at least masked, before. Stopping at the table, she took a glass of cocktail which she sipped slowly, her eyes fixed on the dancing couples, while Julian stood where he was, transfixed by her presence.

As she put down the glass and turned to head to the dance floor, her gaze met Julian’s for a second, and the prince decided to make his move. Seeing that he expected something, the woman had stopped, and now offered her hand. Julian could see the humour in her eyes behind the mask, which were hazel just like her hair which was organized in a beautiful braided hairdo. Taking her gloved hand, he gently pressed his lips to it before speaking to her. “Would you honour me with a dance?”

Without replying, the woman nodded, and Julian could feel her amusement behind the mask at this first proposal for the evening. Undeterred, he took her hand and led her to the dance floor. The music was slow, and their steps seemed to match perfectly. They went round the dance floor, with her eyes now showing admiration at his skill and manners. Their interactions for two songs was limited to the dancing, with only a few words exchanged from time to time. She had a young and sweet yet regal voice, and after the end of the two dances Julian put her question to her. “If it is appropriate, may I know who you are?”

With a slight nod, his partner drew him away from the dance floor, taking him with her to a balcony where they would have some quiet away from the party. There, Julian took off his mask, and he could see the eyes behind the silver mask widen a little with surprise and amazement as the wearer recognised him. His introduction, as Julian Grimaldi, was quite unnecessary.

The lady raised her mask just a little, enough for Julian to see her smile. Lowering it again, she gave a soft chuckle. “His highness the Duke of Orleans honouring me with his presence. I have to say I didn’t expect that.”

“Then you’re…?”

“Francesca, Duchess of Aragon.” The lady replied. “Your hostess for the evening.”

She kept her mask lowered, but Julian could feel her smile underneath it. He spoke a little awkwardly. “I've read your books.”

“Oh?” Julian saw the eyes widened again behind the silver mask. Her voice was quite soft now, with a hint of uncertainty. “Did you like them?”

Julian smiled. “Definitely. I can't comment on their language because my Spanish knowledge is nothing like yours. But the content, the stories…they're very intriguing, to the reader.”

Francesca chuckled. “So I've intrigued you then, your Highness?” Her tone was playful, but Julian couldn't stop his face from colouring a little. “Please call me Julian.”

Francesca was silent for a moment, and then spoke with a hushed tone. “Perhaps you can put your mask back on? I don't want someone to see you here with me. There'll be too much…discussion in the family.”

She sounded abashed, and Julian almost laughed, though he disguised that as a cough. “I can relate to that.” Replacing his mask over his face, he continued. “Allow me to say that our mask suits you a lot. The mysterious silver mask of the writer of mystery novels. But I guess it doesn't conceal much.”

Francesca gave a small nod. “I thought it was the best way to fully conceal myself in a crowd. It worked the first couple times, when I came to my own balls as a guest. But now it's just become my…signature item. But you can only hope for so much.”

Julian nodded, thinking about his own love for anonymity. “I did say it suits you. The mysterious beauty in the silver mask. Well I'm not good with titles for novels, like you are.”

Francesca instinctively covered her mouth with her hand to conceal her small laugh, already concealed by her mask. “Thank you for your compliments, Julian. You're a better critic than most professionals I've met. They just go for the mistakes, clichés…”

“Well, speaking of that…” Julian paused, thinking about how to best put it. “You do have cliches, at least when it comes to romance. There's two…love triangles I've found, and those got me thinking for a moment.”

“I admit romance isn't my strong point, and love triangles are a headache to deal with.” Fransesca replied. “But they intrigue you now?”

Julian smiled. “Not like that. It's just about their resolution. There's the rich boy or girl with everything on one point, and there's the common guy on the other; both fighting for the same heart. You can feel from the beginning that the less financially fortunate party is going to win. And it's all for the best in the end, because we find out the rich party isn't as good as they seem.”

Francesca was quiet, so he continued. “It got me thinking, maybe because I'm a prince. Why is it always that way? Why can’t a triangle be resolved in the opposite way?” His voice softened. “Not that it's a problem with your writing.”

“No, I guess I'm not as daring as you might think.” Fransesca said. “I suppose the reverse did come to my mind too, from time to time. But readers want the underdog to win. And I guess I stopped thinking at that point. It's not what the story is about anyway.”

She sighed a little. “Maybe I'm worried…a twenty four year old trying to be a prodigy in the genre…”

“Connan Doyle wrote A Study in Scarlet in his twenties. You're younger, but you're doing really well. Critics might say one thing, but your readers say a lot more.”

Fransesca smiled again. “Thanks. I suppose you're right about that. And I guess I should think about…other angles too…when I'm writing.”

Julian chuckled. “Don't let a romance arc drag down a good thriller. So, you're having a fundraiser today?”

“To collect money for general repairs on some old libraries I've found. You'll contribute, won't you.”

“You offend me with that question, Fransesca.” Julian said, giving a small chuckle as her face suddenly turned down. “I'm not being serious here, don't worry. I'm definitely going to contribute, and you're not wrong to ask that from me.”

“No, it was inappropriate. Sorry for being rude.” Fransesca stammered, and Julian could almost feel her colour under the mask. Before he could regret his own decision, she looked up again.

“You’ll stay for dinner, won't you? I was wondering would it be too forward of me to invite you to dine with me tomorrow. I'll have some friends over, who you'll probably know.”

“I'd be honoured.” Julian said, without thinking twice, before remembering he had a similar appointment with Isabel at the same time. Fransesca could see his countenance change, so she spoke in a concerned tone.

“If I'm getting in the way of anything you have planned…”

He quickly shook his head. “No, not at all. I'll be there.”

Fransesca didn't seem convinced, and Julian could imagine her biting her lips under the mask. But she was finally satisfied with the answer. “Then…I'll see you again soon anyway.”

She moved away from the balcony rather hastily to meet other guests, leaving Julian stranded, or so he felt. How was he to explain matters to Isabel? Of course she would understand that it was another royal duty of his. But still…

As the cold evening air failed to calm his mind, which seemed in turbulence now for reasons he couldn't fully comprehend, Julian stepped back into the ballroom.