Author's POV....
Riven stood quietly outside Maelis Ravencourt's chamber, his hands folded in front of him, posture straight but tense. The corridor was warm, lit by soft golden lamps that reflected off marble floors—so different from the cold corners he had spent most of his life in within this palace.
Inside the room, maids moved gracefully around the Crown Prince.
They brushed Maelis's hair with practiced care, fingers weaving through silvery strands, tying them neatly at the nape of his neck with a dark ribbon. Another maid adjusted the embroidery of his formal coat, smoothing invisible creases, while a third fastened jeweled clasps at his collar.
Riven watched from the doorway.
He had never seen anyone prepared with such care before. Not like this. Not for him.
Maelis stood tall and composed, his expression calm, almost indifferent, yet there was a faint softness in his eyes tonight—something gentler than the sharp arrogance he used to carry. Candlelight kissed his features, making him look every bit the Crown Prince of Ravencourt: powerful, untouchable, born to rule.
Riven swallowed.
He suddenly felt too aware of himself.
He glanced down at what he was wearing—dark fabric embroidered with silver thread, the design elegant yet understated. The material was smooth beneath his fingers, warmer than anything he had ever owned. Every stitch spoke of wealth, of status, of care.
Maelis's clothes, he thought.
When the maids finally stepped back, Maelis turned toward the mirror, then toward the doorway.
Their eyes met.
"You ready?" Maelis asked casually.
Riven nodded. "Yes, Crown Prince."
Maelis frowned slightly. "I told you—you can just call me Maelis."
Riven hesitated, then nodded again, softer this time.
They walked together toward the banquet hall, royal guards flanking them on either side. The doors opened slowly, revealing a sight that made Riven stop for a moment.
The hall was breathtaking.
Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead. Long tables were draped in fine linens, adorned with golden cutlery and fresh flowers. Music floated gently through the air. Princes and princesses filled the space, dressed in dazzling attire, laughing, talking, their faces bright with excitement.
For once, the atmosphere wasn't tense.
It was joyful.
Maelis was guided toward the royal table, seated beside the King and Queen. Riven, as expected, was directed to sit among the other hostages.
The distance between them felt heavier than it should have.
As the banquet progressed, servants brought dish after dish—delicacies prepared especially for those who had participated in the hunt. Laughter echoed across the hall. Even the King and Queen looked pleased, watching the younger generation enjoy themselves.
Despite everything, Ravencourt treated its hostages well.
That truth was impossible to deny.
Riven noticed eyes on him.
Subtle. Curious. Sharp.
Some princes and princesses glanced at his outfit, their gazes lingering on the expensive embroidery, the quality of the fabric. Whispering followed.
"Isn't that Ravencourt tailoring?"
"That's clearly Crown Prince Maelis's style…".
"When did he become so generous with him?"
Jealousy simmered beneath polite smiles.
They could resent Riven all they wanted—but none of them dared act. Not when the Crown Prince himself had openly chosen to stand beside him.
Riven ignored them.
His attention was elsewhere.
He watched Maelis.
At the royal table, Maelis laughed softly at something the Queen said, his posture relaxed, eyes bright. The King patted his shoulder proudly. It was a rare sight—Maelis looking like a son rather than a weapon.
A small smile curved Riven's lips without him realizing it.
He touched the sleeve of his outfit again, fingers tracing the embroidery.
I don't want to get used to this, he thought.
But part of him already had.
Soon, the hall quieted as performers entered. Dancers moved gracefully, musicians played melodies that stirred the heart. Applause followed each performance, enthusiasm filling the room.
Then, a girl stepped forward.
She carried a musical instrument—elegant, polished, unlike anything seen before. Her presence was calm yet commanding. When she began to play, the hall fell silent.
The music was beautiful.
Gentle at first, then deep, layered with emotion. Every note felt intentional, like it carried a story of its own.
When she finished, applause thundered through the hall.
She was then guided toward the royal table—and sat beside Maelis.
Maelis froze.
Servants served the main course. As Maelis lifted his spoon—
"The young lady beside the Crown Prince," the King announced, voice steady and proud, "is Seraphine Valoire."
The hall stilled.
"She is to be Maelis Ravencourt's fiancée."
Maelis choked.
Coughing violently, he barely managed to set his spoon down as the Queen calmly handed him a glass of water.
"Easy, dear," she said sweetly.
Maelis drank, eyes wide.
Wait…
The female lead finally entered the frame, he thought in pure shock.
Whispers exploded across the hall.
Princesses stiffened. Smiles cracked. Some looked openly bitter.
So this was why they had been sent here. Why their families had endured the humiliation of sending daughters as hostages—hope of becoming the future Queen of Ravencourt.
And just like that, it was gone.
Riven felt something twist inside his chest.
He looked at the girl—Seraphine Valoire. She sat gracefully, hands folded, expression serene. Beautiful. Elegant. Worthy of the title she had just been given.
Of course she was.
After dinner ended, the King formally announced the engagement once more. Applause followed, though not all of it was sincere.
Jealousy lingered thick in the air.
Riven lowered his gaze.
The warmth he had felt earlier faded into something unfamiliar—quiet, heavy, unnamed.
And Maelis… didn't notice.
Not yet.