The morning sun filtered through the tall arched windows of my chambers, casting long, dappled shadows across the marble floor. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and parchment, but I felt none of the calm such a setting should bring. I hadn't slept. Not really. I'd closed my eyes, lain still, but my mind refused to rest.
No matter how many times I told myself we hadn't truly gone too far, the echo of Alexander's touch haunted my skin. His voice, low and reverent, repeated in my thoughts—"Some things… they're worth the risk."
I sat at the edge of the chaise, fully dressed though the court was only beginning to stir, fingers clasped tightly in my lap. My palms still bore the faint indentations from the silk sheets of his bed. How long had I lingered after the door had closed behind me last night, just standing in the corridor, breath caught in my throat?
A knock sounded at the chamber door—soft, cautious.
"Enter," I called, trying to summon something regal to my tone.
Talia peeked in, her eyes sweeping over me with quiet concern. "You're awake early."
"Couldn't sleep," I replied simply. She didn't ask why. She never did when she sensed the reasons were delicate.
She stepped inside, carrying a silver tray with warm bread, figs, and a pot of lavender tea. The familiar gesture, the comfort of routine, grounded me just enough to breathe easier.
"You're needed at the Queen's wing before the midday bell," Talia said as she set the tray down. "She wants your thoughts on the guest arrangements for tonight's ball."
Ah. Of course. Tonight.
The word landed like a stone in my stomach.
Tonight was the opening ball of the Summit—where the four kingdoms would be present, glittering in silks and secrets, each with a watchful eye on me. Tonight, I would be on display. A princess, yes—but more importantly, a prize.
The heirs would arrive in time for the first dance. I'd be expected to greet them. Smile. Charm. Begin the delicate dance of diplomacy and potential courtship. I knew what it meant. Everyone did. This ball wasn't just a celebration—it was the beginning of the end of my freedom.
The sons of the four kingdoms.
That word—heirs—felt like a noose tightening around my neck. This was what I had been raised for, wasn't it? To become a bride. A bond. A symbol of unity between fractured crowns. And now, with the Summit here, it was no longer a distant threat. It was the decision standing on my doorstep, clothed in silk and strategy.
I stood, crossing the room slowly, letting my hand trail along the edge of the window frame. Outside, the capital stirred. Banners were being hoisted, colors representing foreign houses snapping in the wind. A flock of messenger birds took to the skies, cutting across the morning light like shadows in flight.
Was one of them meant for me? To tell me who I belonged to next?
I pressed a hand to the glass, the chill biting into my skin.
I didn't want to belong to anyone. Not a foreign prince. Not a crown. Not a throne I had no desire to sit upon.
My thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Alexander. How easily I had almost offered myself to him last night—not because I had to, but because I wanted to. Because with him, I wasn't just a pawn. I was Ria. A woman with fire in her chest and choice in her veins.
But I had almost made a terrible mistake. And now… I had to face what came next.
My mother's chamber was warm with sunlight, its tall windows thrown open to the breeze. The scent of blooming lavender drifted in from the gardens below, but the mood inside was anything but soft.
My mother stood by the long table in the center of the room, flanked by parchment scrolls, place settings, and seating charts. A steward bowed quickly as he departed, leaving us alone.
"You're late," she said, not looking up.
"I walked," I replied, and let the door close behind me. "Through the gardens."
She finally turned, her eyes scanning me in that assessing way I'd come to know since childhood—seeing not just her daughter, but the piece I was in her game. Her expression softened only a fraction. "You've always walked the gardens when something is weighing on you."
I didn't respond. Not directly. I moved to the edge of the table, letting my eyes skim over the plans.
A golden ink quill marked the ballroom layout. There were four distinct seats placed near mine on the raised dais—one for each of the heirs.
"Everything is nearly ready," she said, folding her hands. "The princes of Ravaryn, Solara, Velmarch, and Thorne are arriving before the final bell. You'll greet them formally at the entrance and host the first dance with whomever we decide best suits the optics."
"Optics," I echoed. "Not politics?"
"They're the same thing tonight."
I sighed, but it came out quieter than I intended. "Do you really think we can find peace through… matchmaking?"
"No," she said plainly. "But we can begin there."
Her tone was neither cruel nor overly gentle—it was the voice of a queen who had survived long enough to know that love was a luxury, and alliances were not. "A union with the right heir could bring generations of stability, Ria. And it would keep you safe."
Safe. I bit down hard on the bitter laugh that rose in my throat.
"Safe doesn't mean happy," I said.
Her gaze met mine, sharp and unflinching. "Happy doesn't last. Power does."
I turned away before I could answer, letting my fingers trail over the edge of a velvet seating scroll.
After a pause, her voice softened. "I've let you make many of your own decisions, Ria. I gave you room to find yourself. But that ends tonight. You will not dishonor your name by letting your emotions rule you in front of the other kingdoms. We cannot afford it."
"I know," I said quietly.
But what she didn't know—what I couldn't say—was that it wasn't fear or emotion I was trying to hold back.
It was longing. Memory. The ghost of a moment behind a closed door and the taste of someone I shouldn't have wanted.
"I chose my gown already," I said, shifting the topic.
She looked surprised, then nodded slowly. "Good. Make sure it's strong. Regal."
"It is."
I turned toward the door, not waiting to be dismissed. As I reached for the handle, her voice stopped me again.
"Ria."
I glanced back.
"You are my daughter," she said. "And no matter what you may want, your duty will always come first."
It was not a threat. It was not even cruelty.
It was a reminder.
And it settled on my shoulders like a mantle I hadn't yet finished growing into.
The palace was a hive of activity by the time the sun crested its peak. Servants hurried through corridors with arms full of velvet and lace, florists trimmed ivory lilies and golden roses for the banquet tables, and courtiers whispered behind jeweled fans, their gossip clinging to the walls like perfume.
My chambers had transformed into something between a dressing room and a war camp.
Three handmaidens moved around me in a practiced dance—adjusting sleeves, smoothing skirts, adding the final touches of powder and scent. But this time, I wore my gown.
Not the one my mother suggested. Not the glittering gold confection the court seamstress had been pushing for weeks.
This gown was a statement. And it was mine.
The same deep, rich burgundy that drank in the candlelight when I first put it on in the store. The bodice was still fitted and smooth, cinched with a thin silver belt embroidered in the shape of sharp fangs—a subtle homage to the Wolves. Beneath the flowing outer layers of the skirt, flickers of crimson and gold caught the light only when I moved—fire hidden beneath the surface, stitched in tribute to the Dragons. At the neckline, black silk feathers curled like a collar, elegant and bold—a nod to the proud Ravens. And laced delicately down the sheer sleeves, almost invisible unless you looked closely, were winding serpent patterns in the finest thread, clever and quiet, for the Serpents.
Every inch of it was layered with meaning. I didn't need to wear a crown to remind them who I was. This dress was my crown.
"You look like one of the old queens," Talia murmured, taking a step back to admire the effect. "The kind who didn't wait for anyone's permission."
"Good," I said simply.
Because tonight, I was expected to perform. Smile. Bow. Dance. Flirt. Stand beneath the chandeliers and act as though I wasn't being weighed, assessed, and measured by every eye in the room.
But I would do it on my terms.
"Have you seen Alexander today?" I asked, too quickly.
Talia's brow lifted slightly. "He's posted at the entrance for the Summit procession. I imagine you'll see him inside—though hopefully not because someone's caused a scene."
I gave a nod, pretending that answer didn't affect me.
I needed to see him. Not to do anything foolish—but because part of me still felt like I was standing at the edge of a cliff. And he was the only thing that had ever made the fall seem survivable.
Talia fastened a sheer black cloak over my shoulders, the edges stitched in fine garnet thread. No gold. No shimmer. Just shadow and elegance. It trailed behind me like the ending of a story not yet told.
"It's time," she said softly.
I turned toward the mirror.
A girl stared back. A woman. A princess, yes—but something more dangerous beneath the surface.
They would expect charm. Grace. Obedience.
Let them.
What they would get… was me.
My handmaids worked in quiet, practiced motions, weaving my hair into a coiled half-crown at the back of my head. Garnet pins caught the light as they slid into place, glinting like embers against the dark waves of my hair. Each tug and twist grounded me, even as my thoughts drifted far from the mirror in front of me.
Talia stood just behind me, adjusting a final lock near my temple. "You're almost ready."
I nodded, though I wasn't sure what ready meant anymore. My pulse had been steady until now. But with each pin, each careful breath, the moment drew closer—too close.
From the reflection, I could see the curve of my own shoulders, the way I held myself taller than I felt. No slouching. No trembling. I couldn't afford to.
"You've gone quiet," Talia murmured, her voice softer now, almost conspiratorial. "That's usually when you're either planning something or enduring something."
I gave a faint, humorless smile. "Can't it be both?"
She snorted quietly. "You're a princess. It's always both."
The other handmaids stepped back as Talia made one last adjustment. The hairstyle was elegant but strong—like a crown carved from something natural, something earned.
In the mirror, I watched the moment click into place—the last piece, the last breath before it all began.
No more hiding in the garden. No more wondering what if.
Tonight, I would dance with the sons of kingdoms who saw me as a prize.
Tonight, I would smile while measuring every word, every gesture, every glance.
Tonight, I would be hers—the girl my mother raised me to be.
"Ready?" Talia asked.
I stood, careful and slow.
"No," I said quietly, smoothing my hands down the front of my dress. "But let's go anyway."
The great doors creaked open before me, spilling the low golden light of the ballroom across the marble floor. My heels tapped softly as I stepped over the threshold, the weight of my gown trailing like a whisper behind me.
It was empty—almost.
No music yet. No nobles whispering behind fans. No curious eyes watching from balconies above.
Only four figures stood at the far end of the hall, each dressed in the unmistakable colors and patterns of their kingdoms—fire, ice, feathers, and shadow.
The heirs.
They turned at once when I entered, as if I were a match struck in the dark.
But they weren't the ones my eyes sought first.
Alexander was there.
Positioned just behind the Dragon heir, half in shadow, his posture straight, hands behind his back, sword at his hip. The ceremonial armor was polished, tailored, clean—but I could see the tension in his shoulders even from here.
He wasn't looking at the princes. He was looking at me.
And in that single, lingering glance, I saw it.
Not duty. Not formality.
Jealousy.
It flared in his eyes like a wound left open, raw and unguarded. His gaze swept over me—my hair, my gown, the calm lift of my chin—and there was something like hurt beneath it. Quiet, but deep.
He had to stand there, still as a statue, while I approached the heirs. Smile for them. Speak to them. Let them admire what he could never have.
And I had to pretend I didn't notice.
My steps were steady, regal, as I descended into the room. Each prince gave a small bow or respectful nod in turn. My name passed their lips in formal tones—each different in accent, in depth, in calculation.
I greeted them all with equal poise, the polite smile practiced to perfection.
But my skin burned. Not from their attention.
From his silence.
From the way Alexander's jaw flexed ever so slightly, as if clenching against words he couldn't speak.
I wanted to go to him. To say something. Anything. But I couldn't—not here. Not with four kingdoms watching.
So I held my smile.
And Alexander held his silence.
The music hadn't even started, and already the night was trembling beneath the surface.
The silence after my entrance was brief. Like wolves circling a flame, the heirs stepped forward—measured, confident, each one keenly aware of the others.
The first to speak was Prince Theron of the House of the Dragons, heir to the fiery kingdom of the highlands. His charm was immediate, like the warmth of the sun after a long, cold night. He smiled, his voice smooth as he approached.
"Princess Ria," he said, his eyes glinting with interest, "your arrival puts the sun to shame. I feared the ballroom might grow cold without your presence."
I smiled, polite but firm. "Then I'm glad to have warmed the room for you, Prince Theron."
He chuckled, a rich sound, clearly amused—and perhaps intrigued by my resistance. His gaze lingered longer than necessary before he stepped back, allowing the others to make their move.
Prince Cale of the House of the Serpents followed, lean and calculating. His brother, Prince Lucien, stood just behind him, a quiet presence with the same sharp eyes. Where Theron's warmth was open, Cale's was more guarded, his movements deliberate and thoughtful.
"You wear every kingdom tonight," Cale remarked, his gaze flickering from my belt to the embroidery along my sleeves. "Yet seem to belong to none."
"A mirror of the state we're in," I replied. "Balanced, but fragile."
His smile was fleeting but knowing. "I like a princess who speaks plainly," he said, a trace of admiration in his voice.
Lucien, ever the quiet counterpart, only nodded as his brother spoke. The subtle assessment in his eyes didn't go unnoticed. There was more to him than he let on, and I couldn't decide whether it was respect or calculation that fueled the way he regarded me.
Then came Prince Kael of the House of the Direwolves, his presence bold and grounded, as if the earth itself had shaped his broad shoulders and square jaw. His fiery hair caught the light, his eyes a deep amber, like molten stone. He had the air of someone who didn't need to prove his strength—he simply was.
"Princess," he said, his voice low and steady.
"Prince Kael," I answered with the same formality, though his intensity was hard to ignore.
His gaze flickered briefly to the shadows behind me, where Alexander stood, watching. And then his eyes returned to me, with a subtle shift, almost like a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken tension in the room.
"You have many watching you tonight," Kael said, his tone thoughtful.
"I'm used to it," I replied, my heart pounding a little faster.
"Still," Kael continued, "not all eyes are equal."
The weight of his words lingered as he stepped back, joining the others.
I took a slow breath, composing myself as I turned to face them all.
The heirs, each one formidable, each one dangerous in their own way. But none of their gazes unsettled me the way Alexander's did. He remained unmoving in the shadows, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on me. The tension between us felt like a taut string pulled too tight.
I wanted to look away, but something in his gaze kept me grounded.
The others excused themselves after a few more formal words, each slipping away toward the next part of the evening's carefully orchestrated dance. Prince Theron gave a knowing glance and nodded, his flirtatious smile never faltering, while Cale and Lucien spoke softly, as if planning something beyond my reach. But Kael remained still, his amber eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made the air feel heavy.
I raised an eyebrow, as if to ask without speaking why he hadn't left with the others.
"You aren't going to ask me to leave, Princess?" Kael's voice was rougher than before, not unkind, but laden with something deeper, something dangerous.
I straightened, the weight of his gaze pressing into me, but I didn't look away. "I don't remember asking anyone to stay."
He smiled faintly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Perhaps you should."
I hesitated. His words were too sharp, too deliberate, like knives hidden in silk.
"Are you always so blunt?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Only when it matters," he replied, his tone softening just a fraction. His gaze flickered over my gown, lingering on the intricate details of the silver fangs that decorated the belt. "It seems we both wear something tonight—layers of expectation. Yours, a kingdom's ambition. Mine, a family's secret."
The words held weight, and my heart skipped a beat. "A family's secret?" I repeated, intrigued despite myself.
Kael's lips pressed together in a tight line, his shoulders taut as though bracing for something unsaid. "You don't know, do you?"
I felt the first stirrings of unease. "Know what?"
He shifted his weight, taking a step closer, his presence suffocating in its intensity. "About your little knight."
I blinked, unsure of where this conversation was going. "What about him?"
Kael gave a small, almost teasing smile. "Oh, nothing too dramatic. " His gaze flickered over my shoulder, and I followed his eyes to where Alexander stood in the distance, watching the crowd. "But," Kael continued, his voice taking on a more casual tone, "I'm sure I'll see him around."
I frowned, wondering what he meant, but Kael didn't elaborate. He gave me one last, fleeting glance—like a man who was saying goodbye without saying it outright.
With a half-smile, Kael turned toward the door, his gait smooth and unhurried. As he reached the threshold, he glanced back, his gaze briefly locking with Alexander's from across the room.
"See you around, brother." His words, light and laced with a quiet sort of humor, seemed to carry weight beyond the casual farewell.
And just like that, Kael exited the ballroom, disappearing into the night with a quiet swish of his cloak. The room felt a little colder, as if something had shifted without warning. I was left standing, reeling from the unexpected words, trying to process the implications of what Kael had just said.
The grand ballroom was still silent, the delicate hum of distant voices growing fainter as the space slowly filled with guests. It was just Alexander and me, the room echoing with an unsettling quiet, the weight of our words hanging heavily in the air.
I could feel the storm inside me brewing, the anger rising to the surface as I stared at him, my eyes narrowing with every passing second. How could he keep something like this from me? How could he hide something so... so monumental?
"You're a prince?" My voice was sharp, barely containing my fury. I didn't care how it sounded—he had lied to me, hidden his true identity from me, and now, all I could feel was betrayal.
Alexander stiffened, his gaze dropping to the floor as if he couldn't meet my eyes. He didn't answer immediately, and the silence that stretched between us was suffocating. I felt my fists clench, my nails digging into my palms.
"You didn't think to tell me this?" I hissed, stepping closer to him, my voice trembling with anger. "All this time, you've been hiding it from me? Hiding who you really are?"
"I didn't want to burden you with it," he said quietly, his voice strained, the words coming out as if he was forcing them from a place of guilt. "It wasn't my place. I—"
"It was your place!" I interrupted, my voice rising. "I've trusted you, Alexander. I've confided in you, believed in you, and you've been lying to me this entire time. Why? Why wouldn't you just tell me?"
He winced at my words, his jaw tightening. His hands, once relaxed at his sides, clenched into fists, and I could see the struggle in his eyes. He opened his mouth as though to say something, but no words came.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Despite what you want to think is a lie..." His eyes met mine, and for the first time, there was a deep vulnerability in them. "its true. I was a prince.."
My heart stopped for a moment, and my breath caught in my throat. The shock hit me like a wave, but my anger burned brighter.
"You're lying," I snapped, the words bitter on my tongue.
"I was stripped of my title," he cut me off, his voice steady now, but the pain in it was unmistakable. "My father... he told me I could never be a prince. I wasn't fit to rule. I wasn't worthy. So, I was cast aside. Stripped of everything I was. My title. My family. I became a knight—your knight, because I had no other choice."
His words hung in the air like a heavy fog, and I could see the raw emotion in his eyes as he spoke, the weight of it all pressing down on him.
But I didn't feel sympathy. Not yet. Not when I was still boiling with rage.
"You should've told me." My voice was low, trembling with barely controlled fury. "You had every opportunity to tell me. But you didn't. You let me believe... you let me think you were just some knight. No better than any other soldier."
He closed his eyes briefly, as though he were preparing for the storm that was to come. When he opened them again, there was a quiet resignation in his gaze, but it didn't make the truth any easier to swallow.
"I never wanted you to look at me differently," he said softly, his voice rough. "I never wanted you to see me as... anything other than your protector. Your knight. I wanted to keep that distance. I thought... I thought if I could just keep that wall between us, I could serve you. Protect you. Without the weight of my past getting in the way."
I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and mocking. "You thought you could keep it from me forever?" I shook my head in disbelief. "Do you really think I wouldn't find out? I trusted you, Alexander, and you've been lying to me this whole time!"
His face faltered as my words landed, the guilt in his expression more evident than ever. But it didn't make me feel any better. If anything, it made me angrier.
"You could have trusted me," I said, my voice a dangerous whisper. "You could have told me the truth. I deserve the truth. You think I can't handle it?"
Alexander took a step toward me, his face tense, but I didn't back away. If anything, I stood my ground, the anger still simmering in my chest, the hurt threatening to break through.
"I didn't want to put you in a position where you had to make a choice," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't want you to see me as... less than what you expected."
I couldn't hold back any longer. The words burst out of me, sharp and venomous. "You should have trusted me enough to know that I would've accepted you, no matter what."
For a long moment, we just stood there, staring at each other, the silence between us deafening. The weight of his secret, and my reaction to it, hung in the air, leaving us both uncertain, lost in the aftermath of what had been revealed.
"I'm sorry, Princess," he said again, his voice barely audible, before taking another step back. "I didn't want to hurt you."
I didn't respond. The hurt was still there, too raw, too fresh. I just stood there, watching him walk away, his figure disappearing into the shadows as the first guests began to filter into the ballroom. The anger was still burning inside me, but beneath it, there was something else—something that I couldn't quite name yet, a feeling that made everything feel... complicated.
-
The heavy wooden doors loomed ahead of me, the entrance to the ballroom. I could hear the murmur of voices, the soft rustling of dresses, and the occasional clink of glass as guests mingled in the grand space beyond. The sound of laughter and polite conversation filtered through the thick, ornate doors, but it felt distant, foreign.
The weight of the gown I wore pressed down on me, the deep burgundy fabric shimmering faintly under the soft glow of the candles. I could feel the silk at my waist, the subtle heat of the design around me, but it did little to comfort the turbulent thoughts racing through my mind.
Alexander.
The thought of him brought a sharp, sudden ache in my chest. His words echoed in my head: I never wanted to hurt you.
But he had, hadn't he? I could still see the look on his face when he revealed the truth—his past as a prince, his fall from grace. He had chosen to hide that from me, choosing secrecy over honesty. The betrayal stung worse than I expected. I could still feel the weight of his apology, the remorse in his eyes, but none of that mattered now, did it?
I was standing here, about to step into a room full of people, and he... he was just another knight again. Another man who had never been honest with me.
My fingers tightened around the edge of the doorframe, as though I could ground myself in this moment before I was thrust into the chaos that was about to begin. The ball was not just a formality; it was a game, and I was a player in it whether I liked it or not. I could hear the rising crescendo of the music on the other side of the door, signaling the start of the evening. The moment when everything would change.
I closed my eyes for a brief second, letting the cool air from the ballroom filter through the crack in the door.
Did I want to face him tonight? Could I look at Alexander the same way again?
A sharp sound echoed in the distance—the first note of the entrance music, pulling me back into reality. The ball was about to begin.
With a deep, steadying breath, I pushed open the door. The soft notes of the music greeted me as the grand chandelier above bathed the ballroom in a warm, inviting glow. The sea of guests turned their attention toward me, their gazes sweeping over my gown, their whispers filling the air like a soft current.
But despite the grandeur, despite the faces of the nobles and foreign ambassadors, all I could think about was him. Alexander. I had no idea where he stood in the crowd, or if he was even there at all.
Still, I couldn't let him cloud my mind tonight. I had duties. A role to play. And, above all, I had to maintain the mask of the princess. No matter what had happened between us.
I moved into the ballroom, my footsteps light but deliberate, as I made my way to the center of the room, where the four heirs—Prince Kael, Prince Theron, Prince Cale, and Prince Lucien—stood waiting. The evening had officially begun.
The eyes of the ballroom were on me.
Every gaze, every whisper, every motion seemed to still as I entered, the grand music swelling around me like a soft tide. The crowd parted, their attention locked onto me, their eyes tracing the lines of my gown and the delicate fall of my brown hair.
I could feel it—the weight of expectation—pressing down on me like a suffocating cloak. My parents were standing off to the side, lost in conversation, no one paying attention to them. My younger sister was with her friends, giggling softly, oblivious to the grand spectacle unfolding. Even my brother, who had once been the focus of every conversation, seemed lost in the background.
No, tonight, it was me they were watching. The princess. The one who would choose a suitor. The one who would marry and bring more power, more alliances to the House of the Ravens. The pressure was suffocating, but there was no escape. No way to run from this moment.
I moved across the floor, each step measured and deliberate, my blue eyes scanning the room. The grand chandelier above cast a soft glow over everything, making the marble floors gleam and the rich tapestries lining the walls shimmer with history. The laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses—everything felt distant, muffled. My thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation I had with Alexander earlier. His words echoed in my mind like a distant drumbeat. He was a prince. He had always been a prince. And yet, I had never known.
I reached up to brush a stray strand of brown hair from my face, my fingers trembling slightly as I tucked it behind my ear. It was a simple gesture, but it helped steady me, helped me focus. I couldn't afford to let my emotions unravel. Not here. Not now.
As I passed through the crowd, I could feel the eyes of the four heirs—Kael, Theron, Cale, and Lucien—on me. Kael's gaze was heavy, but thoughtful, as though he was calculating something. Theron's eyes sparkled with amusement, his charm evident as always. Cale and Lucien shared a quiet, intense look before turning their attention back to me. They were all waiting. Watching. But it was Kael who lingered in my thoughts, his words about Alexander still fresh in my mind.
I couldn't escape him, not tonight. But I couldn't let it show, either.
I approached the small circle where the heirs had gathered, the music rising to a new level as the next dance began. The room seemed to hold its breath as I finally came to a stop in front of them.
Kael was the first to step forward, offering me a polite bow. His eyes, however, were sharp, as though assessing me—measuring me against some invisible standard.
"Princess Ria," he said, his voice low and smooth, as if we had been acquainted far longer than we truly had. "I must say, you look absolutely stunning tonight."
I nodded in acknowledgment, offering him a soft smile, though inside, I was anything but calm. His words didn't matter. Not now. Not after everything that had happened.
"Thank you, Prince Kael," I replied, my voice steady, though my thoughts were far from it.
He held my gaze for a moment longer than necessary, and in that fleeting moment, something passed between us—a shared understanding of the tension, of the games we were both playing. But it was gone as quickly as it came, and he stepped back to make room for the others.
Prince Theron, ever the flirt, grinned at me, his sharp eyes lighting up as he extended his hand for the first dance. "A pleasure to see you again, Princess. Would you honor me with this dance?"
I took his hand, though my heart wasn't in it. He was kind, charming even, but tonight was about more than just dance. It was about choices. It was about alliances, and I couldn't forget that.
As we danced, the music filled the spaces between us, our movements synchronizing with the rising swell of sound. Theron's charm was undeniable, and for a moment, I allowed myself to relax, just for a second. But in the corner of my eye, I saw Alexander standing near the door, watching.
His eyes were locked on me—his jaw tight, his stance rigid. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't laughing with the others. It was just him, observing, as if he were waiting for something, or perhaps regretting something he couldn't undo.
I felt a knot in my stomach, the conflict of emotions overwhelming me for a brief, fleeting moment. What was I supposed to do with this? With him?
The dance continued, and I did my best to focus on the steps, to smile at Theron when he complimented me, to play my part in this masquerade. But my thoughts kept drifting back to the man who had once been my knight—my protector—and now stood in the shadows, watching me dance with the very men who could have been my suitors.
But the longer I danced, the more I realized that this night wasn't about me making a decision. Not yet. This was just the beginning. The first steps toward an uncertain future, and I had no idea where it would lead.
As the dance with Prince Theron drew to a close, I felt a subtle but firm hand rest on my shoulder. My gaze shifted, and I found myself looking up into the dark eyes of Prince Kael, his presence commanding and direct.
"Princess Ria," he said, his voice low but rich with intention. "Would you honor me with a dance?"
Theron, ever the gracious diplomat, gave a polite bow, stepping back with a smile. "Of course, Prince Kael. The princess is yours." And with that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving me standing with Kael.
I hesitated for only a moment, my mind still drifting, unsettled by the thoughts of Alexander. But Kael's hand, extended toward me, was impossible to ignore. I placed mine in his with a practiced smile, and he led me onto the floor, his movements smooth and purposeful.
As Kael led me onto the dance floor, his hand firmly on my waist, I couldn't help but feel a slight shiver of discomfort. His presence was overpowering, his charm too practiced, too smooth—like a polished mask hiding something beneath. I had no doubt he was trying to win me over with every word, every gesture, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was all part of some grand performance.
He smiled at me, leaning in just a little too close, his breath warm against my ear. "I must admit, Princess, I've been waiting for this moment. For the chance to truly get to know you," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, like silk sliding across skin.
I had to fight the urge to pull away. Instead, I offered him a polite smile, my eyes betraying nothing of my growing discomfort. "I'm sure you've had plenty of opportunities to get to know me, Prince Kael," I said, keeping my voice light, flirtatious, even though his words made my skin crawl. "But tonight, I'm afraid, is no different from any other. I'm just another princess in a sea of suitors."
Kael didn't seem to mind the distance I kept between us. If anything, it seemed to fuel his confidence, and he responded with a chuckle that was too rehearsed to feel genuine. "Ah, but that's what makes this moment so special. You, Princess, are anything but ordinary." His eyes flicked over me, lingering just a little too long on my face, my neck, before he met my gaze again. "I've noticed the strength in you. The way you carry yourself. It's... captivating."
I felt my stomach twist at the comment, but I hid it behind another smile, my blue eyes fluttering slightly as if flattered. I was trying my best to keep my composure, to play the part. He wanted a gracious princess, a charming companion to amuse him during the evening, and I would give him that. At least, for the moment.
"You're very observant, Prince Kael," I replied, my voice soft and sweet, almost teasing. "But I'm afraid my strength might be too much for some. It's not always easy to handle."
Kael's lips curled into a grin, as if he found my response amusing. His hand tightened just slightly on my waist, a silent claim that made my skin prickle with discomfort. "I like a challenge, Princess. And I'm certain we could make a powerful match. You and I." He leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear again. "You'd never have to worry about anyone underestimating you if you were by my side."
I resisted the urge to recoil, to step back from him. Instead, I made sure my smile stayed in place, but the words felt like bile in my throat. I knew better than to let him see any of my true feelings. He wasn't worth the reaction.
"And what makes you think I would consider such a thing, Prince Kael?" I asked, my tone playful but laced with subtle warning. I wasn't interested in him. Not at all. I could feel my stomach knotting at his closeness, his touch, his words.
Kael's eyes darkened just a shade, but he didn't back down. "Because you're smart, Princess. You know what's at stake. And I can offer you a future. Power. Security. Everything you deserve."
I almost gagged at the way he spoke of power as though it were a gift, something to be won, as if it wasn't already mine by birthright. But I kept my expression neutral, masking my true feelings. "Power is something one must earn," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, laced with just the faintest touch of challenge. "It's not handed out so easily."
He chuckled again, his smile widening as though he thought I was teasing him. "Ah, always so clever, Princess. That's what I admire most about you."
Inside, I was screaming. He was gross—his words, his touch, the way he thought he could win me over with flattery. But I held my ground, my smile still in place as I allowed him to lead me through the dance.
As we spun across the floor, I continued to smile sweetly at him, all the while suppressing the revulsion that grew with every minute. Kael wasn't someone I could ever see myself with, no matter how much he tried to charm me. The feeling of his hand on my waist, the closeness of his body, made my skin crawl. But I wasn't about to show it. I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he disgusted me.
I could only play this game for so long. Tonight was about appearances, about maintaining the delicate balance between royal duty and personal desire. The ball, the suitors, the dance—it was all part of the same orchestrated performance. And I was nothing more than an actress in a play I hadn't chosen.
"Perhaps I'll be seeing more of you, Princess," Kael said, his eyes glinting with something I couldn't quite place. It almost looked like triumph.
I smiled again, but this time, it didn't quite reach my eyes. "Perhaps," I murmured, my heart racing as I turned my attention to the rest of the room, willing the dance to be over.
And then, just like that, the music shifted. The dance was nearing its end. I could finally pull away from Kael.
But as he spun me out, I caught a glimpse of Alexander from across the room. His eyes met mine for just a moment, and in them, I saw a flicker of something that wasn't jealousy but something deeper, darker. Regret, maybe? Guilt? It didn't matter now.
I was back in the game.
As the final note of the dance echoed into silence, I stepped away from Kael with a practiced smile and a polite dip of my head. The moment his hand left my waist, I exhaled, my lungs filling with air I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I needed a break. I needed space. I needed a drink.
Weaving through the crowd with graceful urgency, I made my way to the refreshment table, my heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. The murmurs of conversation and laughter filled the air like a rising tide, but it all felt distant, muffled. My hand trembled slightly as I lifted a crystal goblet of wine to my lips. The deep red liquid slid down my throat like velvet, but it did little to ease the fire brewing in my chest—fueled by Kael's oily charm, Alexander's secrets, and the weight of a crown I never asked for.
Just as I lowered the glass, I heard it—the deep, commanding voice of my father, King Kaerin, cutting through the hum of the ballroom like a blade.
"May I have your attention."
The room fell quiet almost instantly. Conversations died, movements stilled. Even the musicians paused mid-tune. All eyes turned toward the dais at the far end of the hall where my father now stood, his expression unreadable, his posture straight and proud.
My heartbeat quickened.
And then—doors slammed open.
The sharp clang of armor accompanied the sudden rush of guards into the ballroom. They moved quickly, efficiently, fanning out around the perimeter with practiced precision. A ripple of unease spread through the crowd. Whispers started again—uncertain, nervous.
I set my glass down slowly, my fingers cold despite the wine. Something wasn't right. I could feel it in the air, thick as a storm about to break.
Alexander moved toward me from the edge of the room, his eyes trained on the guards with the focus of a man prepared for battle. He reached my side in seconds, his hand gently brushing against my lower back, protective without being possessive.
"What's happening?" I asked under my breath.
He didn't look at me, eyes still scanning. "I don't know. But stay close to me."
King Kaerin raised a hand to still the murmurs. "This is not a cause for panic," he announced, though his voice bore the weight of tension. "You are all safe. The guards are here to ensure it remains that way."
That did little to calm the crowd. My eyes flicked to my mother, standing beside the throne, her expression tight. My younger sister clutched her skirts, confused and frightened.
I looked up at Alexander, his jaw set like stone.
Something was coming.
And it wasn't just another dance.
The silence in the ballroom had turned sharp, tense. Every breath felt louder than it should. My father's voice dropped in pitch, but the intensity behind it made every word thunder through the hall.
"It is with great fury," King Kaerin said, his gaze sweeping over the gathered nobility, "that I must inform you all… the House of the Wolves has betrayed our trust."
A gasp broke through the crowd. My own chest tightened.
"They have not only dared to spy on the House of the Ravens during a time of peace…" He stepped forward, hands clenched at his sides, "—they attempted to breach our vaults. To steal silver. Gold. Our legacy."
The stunned silence was shattered by the clang of metal.
Knights in black and violet—my father's elite guard—marched through the ballroom with purpose. The crowd parted quickly. Every step echoed like a countdown, as they moved in behind the Lord and Lady of the Wolves. And behind—
Prince Kael.
He turned, slowly, his confident smirk faltering just slightly as he noticed the line of steel and grim faces at his back. I stood frozen, unable to breathe. The mood in the room shifted violently from confusion to tension, outrage, fear.
"No," I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. "They wouldn't—"
But then my father's eyes met mine.
His jaw tightened, just for a second, before his gaze slid to the man at my side.
Alexander.
I barely had a second to process the look that passed between them—regret, betrayal, something broken and irreversible—before my father raised his hand.
A silent command.
One of the guards nearest the dais broke formation and began walking straight toward us. My pulse thundered in my ears.
"Wait," I said, stepping forward slightly, but Alexander's hand stopped me. It lingered only a moment, and then he pulled away.
"Alexander?" I breathed, my voice too soft for the moment. "What's going on?"
But his face… his face had changed. Not into something cruel or cold, but something… resigned.
My father's voice rang out again, but this time it felt like a blade.
"And with deepest shame, I announce this: Sir Alexander, knight of the House of Ravens, has been outed as a loyal son of the House of the Wolves. A spy placed in our keep. His deception ran deep—gaining our trust, our favor… my daughter's protection."
The ballroom exploded into chaos.
I didn't hear the gasps, or the clamor of nobles shouting questions. I couldn't hear anything but the rush of blood in my ears.
"No," I said again, louder this time, turning to Alexander. "Tell him he's wrong. Tell him—"
But Alexander just looked at me. Not angry. Not defensive. Just… shattered.
The guard reached him, but Alexander didn't resist. He raised his hands without a word as the knight gripped his arm.
"He will be returned to the Wolves," my father declared, his voice like thunder. "Without right of return. The same fate for their entire delegation. Our trust has been severed. And it will not be mended."
"Father, stop!" I shouted, stepping forward, fury and confusion blazing through me.
But my father didn't look at me again.
Alexander turned to me, finally, and in his eyes—I saw it all.
Regret. Affection. Pain. And something else.
Something like love.
But he said nothing.
And then he was led away.
Just like that.
Torn from my side.
Torn from everything I thought I knew.
I lunged forward.
"Alexander!" I screamed, his name bursting from my throat like a broken prayer.
He turned—just once—his eyes meeting mine. The look on his face stole the breath from my lungs.
Regret. Pain. Love.
And then he looked away.
I ran toward him, heart pounding, hands outstretched, but I didn't make it more than two steps before an arm seized me from behind.
No. No, not now. Not him.
"Let me go!" I shrieked, twisting, shoving, clawing—anything to escape the iron grip that yanked me back.
My father's voice was tight in my ear. "Ria, stop. This is done."
"No!" I cried, my whole body trembling. "He didn't—he wouldn't—"
But he held firm. He didn't even flinch as I slammed my fists into his chest, as I clawed at his arms, sobbed into the silk of his robes. I kicked, I screamed, I burned from the inside out.
"He lied to you," my father said, not unkindly, but unmoved. "He lied to all of us."
"No! You don't know—you don't know him!" I wailed, the words splitting apart as they left me. "You're wrong! You're wrong!"
I couldn't even see clearly anymore—my vision blurred by hot, violent tears. I caught the last flicker of Alexander's form as the guards led him through the gilded doors, their armor gleaming in the light.
He was gone.
Ripped from me.
The echo of the doors slamming shut was the sound of something breaking inside me. Something I wasn't sure would ever heal.
My legs gave out. I crumpled to the floor in a heap of silk and sorrow, hands clutching at the marble, at the empty space where he should have been. Where we should have been.
Sobs wracked through me, loud and ragged and unrelenting. My father knelt beside me, a hand on my shoulder, but I barely felt it. He said something—soft, pained—but I didn't hear it.
All I could hear was the memory of Alexander's voice.
All I could feel was the echo of his touch, now torn away by betrayal and war and bloodlines.
He had lied.
And I still loved him.