One booted foot appears on the stairs. Another follows. Layers of black and red silk surround them, slowly descending the staircase and eventually allowing your face to come into view. Across the ballroom, you see his head snap up from where he's stood with a woman you've never seen before. You don't expect to see her again anytime soon; with luck, you won't see him either.
Slowly, one by one, everyone's eyes fall on you in all of your royal glory. The women in the room are jealous that you can wear such expensive fabrics, while the men all admire your beauty. You suppress a smile. That's exactly what you wanted: everyone's attention, so that you might show them just what a liar he really was.
After all, nobody angers the witch coven's leader.
Your boots conceal a single, sharp dagger, polished and sheathed within reach of your hand. You might hate him, but not even the gods could stop you making his death a dramatic one.
You stride calmly through the crowd of dancers, your subjects and friends all staring as your eyes lock on him. You reach the other side of the floor, gently asking him, "come." He doesn't notice the threat in your tone.
You wave one pale hand high in the air, and in an instant everyone starts dancing again. The music continues from where it stopped and quiet conversations pick up again. Your hand drops and you place it on his shoulder elegantly.
He opens his mouth, expression making it evident he wants to feed you some idiotic lie about why he betrayed your coven. "Listen-"
"Save it, I'm not willing to listen to a liar." you mutter, just loud enough that he hears. "Follow me."
"You just got here?" he asks, confusion clear in his eyes.
"Correct, and now we are leaving." then, firmer, you repeat: "come." he nods and follows you outside meekly like a puppy.
Once in the gardens, you hold out a hand, which he hesitantly takes. "Let's dance."
He frowns. "Why couldn't we dance in there?"
You glare lightly. "I wanted privacy, and we can still hear the music. Now let's dance."
Carefully, he starts to waltz with you. He's hesitating, watching every step closely like if he makes a mistake it'll be his last. If all goes to plan, it just might be. Then, in an almost ashamed whisper, he asks, "I thought you hated me."
"Oh, I do," you reply casually. "But they can't know that, can they?"
"Why did you want to see me out here, then?" he asks, voice a little stronger this time. "If you hated me, you'd never want to see me again."
"I don't." you say, calmly leaning down; you're suddenly grateful for the height difference between you. You stop with your face just beside his ear, whispering.
"'Til death do us part, correct?"
He doesn't notice that your hand has crept into your boot and pulled out the dagger until it's in his side, cutting cleanly through layers of silk and expensive red-and-black fabric.
He collapses to the ground with a gasp, his final words a hoarse and pained, "I love you."
"I loved you." you hiss, bitter and angry. You slice open the front of his shirt, careful not to scratch the skin on his torso. On it, you scratch four huge letters:
LIAR.
