As if reading Kaelith's mind, the orchestra began to play, soft at first, like a ripple across still water.
Violins wove a gentle melody, rising slowly as cellos joined in with deep, steady notes.
Drums echoed like distant thunder, setting a slow, regal rhythm that filled the grand hall.
The music drifted through the air… graceful and haunting, wrapping around the guests like a spell.
Kaelith barely had time to breathe before the Sea Prince's hand slid to his waist firm, possessive. Cold fingers warming by the second.
Kaelith tensed at the touch, but didn't pull away.
"Hell… He's warm. Way too warm for a fish," Kaelith muttered under his breath.
Then Caelum reached for his other hand, lacing their fingers together with practiced ease, like he'd done it a thousand times.
As if Kaelith wasn't internally glaring daggers at him.
Warmth bloomed in the contact, annoyingly so.
'Why the hell is his hand this warm? Is that sea magic? Emotional manipulation? Bastard sorcery?'
Questions raced through his mind, and suddenly he wasn't focused.
The prince's grip was steady. Grounded. A little too grounded.
And then, they moved.
A slow, sweeping waltz guided by the haunting melody echoing through the ballroom.
One step.
Then another.
Kaelith's boots glided across the polished marble like he'd done this before… even though he most definitely hadn't.
He refused to look up at Caelum.
Caelum, of course, had no such hesitation, he kept his gaze on Kaelith.
"I expected more resistance," the Sea Prince said coolly, his voice smooth as dusk over dark water.
'Who are you to say that?'
Kaelith narrowed his eyes. "Don't tempt me to resist in public. I'd hate to turn your wedding night into a scandal."
The corner of Caelum's mouth twitched, barely. Almost a smile.
The crowd watched like hungry birds on a wire. Waiting for a stumble. A fight. An argument. Or worse… affection.
Kaelith kept his head high, his royal robe trailing behind him like smoke on water.
"You dance well," Caelum murmured, voice low as his lips brushed Kaelith's ear. "For someone forced to the altar."
Kaelith's body stiffened at the breath on his skin. His ear warmed traitorously.
He recovered quickly, smirking without humor.
"You hold me well… for someone who couldn't care less."
Caelum's grip on his waist tightened, just slightly.
"Then perhaps we're both better at pretending than we thought."
Kaelith's heart gave a deceitful flutter, but he masked it with a sharp inhale and replied coldly:
"Or maybe we're just very good liars."
Caelum leaned in closer, his breath laced with quiet amusement.
"At least this will get your father off my back. Don't worry… I'm not trying very hard to make you fall for me."
Kaelith froze mid-step.
'What? How did he… how did this bastard find out?!'
"Smile," Caelum said smoothly, his voice low and mocking, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"You're supposed to make me fall in love with you, remember?"
Kaelith's jaw tightened. Before he could respond, Caelum added with a sigh,
"Let me guess… your father told you to charm me again?"
Kaelith blinked, caught off guard. "Again?"
He stumbled slightly, surprisingly breaking his rhythm. "What do you mean, again?" He asked, confused.
Caelum didn't return the smirk this time. His face remained calm, but his words were like blades wrapped in velvet.
"If you keep this up, you won't even be a decent pawn… let alone a valuable puppet."
That did it.
Kaelith snapped his head up, glaring at him, he stopped dancing completely.
Luckily, the orchestra came to a gentle end at that moment, masking the abruptness.
Kaelith stepped back from Caelum, his eyes narrowed.
Caelum looked entirely unbothered.
"You shouldn't give yourself a headache trying to figure out how I knew," he said casually.
Kaelith clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. Anger burned under his skin like hot fire.
He didn't know what to do, punch the life out of this smug bastard, or walk away before he lost all self-control.
The Sea Prince stood there like an untouchable god, calm, composed, and cold. As if he expected the world to kneel before him.
'I'd love to burn you alive , and watch you scream to death!'
Before he could say or do anything rash, the booming voice of the herald echoed across the hall, breaking the rising tension.
"Announcing His Grace, Lord Adriel of House Thorne, Duke of the Eastern Reaches and cousin to His Highness Prince Kaelith. Accompanied by his esteemed betrothed, Lady Virelle of the Glass Isles."
Kaelith's breath caught.
The name hit him like a dagger to the ribs.
'Virelle? This must be a joke right?' he asked himself. 'Maybe just another lady bearing the same name.'
Then he turned sharply toward the grand staircase to confirm, his pulse loud in his ears.
Descending the marble steps was Adriel, regal in black and sapphire robes, his arm linked with a striking woman in crimson silk.
Her eyes… those eyes.
Fierce. Familiar. Frightening.
'Virelle? But… how?'
Kaelith felt the blood drain from his face as the ghost of a memory slammed into him… the former Kaelith's memory.
Virelle… dying in his arms. The taste of poison. The weight of love. The sting of regret.
Yet there she stood, alive. Smiling sweetly for the crowd, the image of a perfect noble bride.
Kaelith's heart slammed against his ribs, confusion and dread crashing over him like a tidal wave.
His legs moved without command, like they belonged to someone else.
Each step forward felt like walking through a nightmare wrapped in silk.
'What's happening? Why can't I stop? Why does it feel like… like I'm not the one moving?'
Three more steps, and he'd be standing face to face with the woman he watched die.
The woman, this body mourned.
Virelle's smile didn't falter. Poised. Serene. As if the past had never happened. As if she hadn't collapsed in Kaelith's arms with her last breath.
A strange pressure gripped his chest, the soul in this body stirring like it remembered too well. The pain. The guilt.The heartbreak.
But just as Kaelith took that final step, a firm hand caught his own, it was Caelum's.
His grip was firm but at the same time soft. Steady.
And for ten precious seconds, the haze lifted.
Kaelith's breath returned.
His heart, though still unsteady, began to beat to his rhythm again.
The body stopped remembering.
And started listening to him.
Kaelith frowned, eyes narrowing slightly.
'Something's definitely off,' he thought, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on his chest.
"Looks like I'll have to make it a mission to find out what really happened that day…" he muttered, just loud enough for his voice to carry.
Caelum, ever watchful, caught the words. His head tilted slightly, gaze flickering toward Kaelith.
'Adriel huh?… you bastard. What game are you playing?'
Kaelith eyes locked on Adriel smug face. And beside him, the woman who shouldn't be alive.
'Virelle… What really happened that day?' Kaelith sighed and turned away from Caelum, the weight of the evening pressing down on him like a second cloak.
He just needed space, air, quiet, anything but more strained smiles.
As he stepped back, he nearly collided with a maid carrying a silver tray of wine.
"F-Forgive me, My Lord," the maid stammered, bowing quickly, her hands trembling slightly.
Kaelith waved it off, clearly too tired to scold anyone. "Never mind."
She straightened, trying to keep her voice steady. "Would you like some wine, my Lord?"
Kaelith gave a tired nod. "Why not," he muttered. 'I might as well unwind a little.'
The maid smiled nervously and offered him the only glass on the tray.
Without a second thought, Kaelith took it and drained the entire thing in one long gulp.
"Bring me another," he said, handing the glass back.
"Yes, My Lord," the maid replied, bowing before slipping away into the crowd.
The ballroom had grown even more crowded, music and laughter rising like a tide.
Kaelith made his way to the guest wing, far enough from the main floor to breathe, but close enough to still be watched.
He sat down, elbows on the small marble table beside him, waiting.
Moments later, the maid returned, tray once again balanced carefully in her hands, a fresh goblet of wine gleaming under the lantern light.
But just as she reached Kaelith, a masked figure in dark ceremonial robes shoved her roughly from behind.
The tray clattered.
Wine splashed across Kaelith's robes.
Gasps rang out as the maid stumbled, barely catching herself, her eyes wide with terror.
Kaelith stood to his feet, stunned, but what caught his attention wasn't the wine. It was the intentional way the masked figure had moved. Deliberate. Calculated.
The figure didn't apologize. Didn't even flinch. She simply turned toward Kaelith, head tilted ever so slightly… watching.
'Who the hell is this?'
Kaelith's instincts flared… danger.
In the blink of an eye, the masked woman lunged at him, her movements swift as lightning, a curved blade flashing into her hand.