The Rejected True Heiress (Liora) novel Chapter 63

. “My date ditched me.”

Date? She had a real date? Wonder when that happened.

“It was probably just a prank when he asked last minute,” she added quickly, fiddling with the edge of her cup. “Still… it felt nice.”

“Well,” I shrugged, stretching out my legs beneath the table, “his loss.”

Mia looked like a storm cloud with a crown, frizzy dark hair tucked behind her ears, her dress a swirl of deep navy tulle and glitter that shimmered every time she shifted. Like someone had bottled starlight, shook it up, and poured it over her. Wasted on someone sulking over fruit punch.

“Wanna cash in that dance now?” I asked suddenly.

She blinked. “I mean—yes? But I’m still not very good.”

“You just slink around the ballroom in slow motion. That totally counts.” I stood and held out my hand. “Come on, I’m not sitting here all night just because someone else is trash.”

She bit her lip like she wanted to argue again, but her hand found mine. I tugged her up gently, smirking. “What kind of villain would you be to turn me down? Think of the headlines.”

So we danced.

Badly. Well, that’s not true. She just moved slower than the beat and stepped on my foot twice, but she had this sort of grace about her, like she was afraid to take up space. Or like the floor might vanish if she leaned into it too much.

“Sorry,” she muttered after a clumsy twirl.

“Relax. You’re doing great. Just… concentrate. Like orange juice.”

She giggled, cheeks turning the same color as the punch. “That was terrible.”

“Thank you, I try.”

As we turned, she glanced up at me. “You’re looking for her, aren’t you? That’s why you keep looking over my shoulder?”

“What?” I blinked. “No—what? No.”

“Liora?” she said it gently, not accusing. “I don’t blame you. She really is… something else.”

“Maybe,” I muttered.

She tilted her head as we swayed. “Don’t worry. She told me she’s coming. Though, to be fair… she doesn’t tell me much anymore. So I guess we just hope.”

That actually caught me off guard. “You’re her best friend.”

“Of course,” she said, soft and sincere. “But I’m still learning how to read her. Stuff like that takes time.”

Mia and I turned with everyone else.

And there she was.

Liora.

Descending the marble staircase like she belonged to another century. Her dress was purple fading into white, like lilac smoke in the moonlight. Jewels and pearls scattered across the fabric like constellations. Her hair caught the chandeliers in golden strands, a tiara of beads woven through the waves.

Even the air seemed to pause.

Mia's hand slipped from mine.

And all I could do was stare.

Because suddenly, nothing else in that grand, over-decorated ballroom mattered.

Not the chandeliers. Not the gowns. Not the hundred people watching.

Nothing was a radiant as her.