"Who was that?" Queen Violeta asked her ladies-in-waiting as the woman who danced with her son blended into the crowd.
She had tried to follow her with her gaze, but the crowd grew denser, and it was harder to spot her. Queen Violeta had not been able to get a good look at her, and it didn't help that she had on a mask—but something about her seemed too familiar.
She tried to tick off all the daughters of the lords she knew. None fit the description, especially with that red hair. Queen Violeta didn't like where her mind strayed to. There was no way the lady was the peasant whore. There was just no way.
Her ladies had already tasked themselves with taking care of the peasant whore if she dared show up to the ball. There was no way she would boldly show up in this manner—especially with the garment she wore. Queen Violeta grabbed her chair tightly as she waited for their response.
"We do not know, Your Majesty," one of them finally said. There was a mild hesitation in their voice.
