The ballroom shimmered with gold and sin.
Aria Valen stepped into the palace of her enemies with her chin high, heart hammering beneath her gown. The satin clung to her curves like a secret, the blood-red color intentional—a bold statement, a warning. She was here to dance, to smile, to pretend she wasn't plotting to destroy them all.
Nobles turned. Murmurs rose. The ghost princess had returned.
They didn't know her. Not really. Not the girl who had watched her family slaughtered. Not the girl who had bled in the gutters of a foreign land. And certainly not the woman who had trained in shadow, returning now to set the empire aflame from within.
She had come back for one thing.
Vengeance.
And the first step was standing under the crystal chandelier, holding a glass of poisoned charm, and locking eyes with the man whose family destroyed hers.
Prince Nikolai Raelthorn.
He wore a midnight-black suit, dangerous and cold, his silver eyes sweeping the room like a predator scenting blood. He was beautiful in a brutal way, with the kind of power that made people bow without thinking.
Aria didn't bow.
Their eyes met.
A beat. A pulse. A dangerous current crackled between them.
He tilted his head, amused. As if he knew something she didn't.
"You're not on the guest list," he murmured when he reached her, his voice a velvet threat. "But I rarely deny beautiful women entry. Who sent you?"
Aria smiled slowly. "I go where I please, Your Highness."
"Arrogant." His lips curled. "I like it."
He extended a hand.
She hesitated.
Touching him felt like treason to everything she had sworn. But her revenge needed this mask. This dance.
Her fingers slid into his.
The moment they touched, heat surged up her arm. His grip was firm, not cruel. Controlled. The way rulers held blades.
They stepped onto the dance floor, and the orchestra obeyed as if on command.
"You're not from here," he said. "Your accent. Your posture. You were trained... somewhere else."
Aria let a laugh dance on her tongue. "And you're far too observant."
"You're dangerous."
"Is that why you're still holding me?"
Nikolai's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Because I like dangerous things."
Each spin pulled her closer to danger. Her scent teased him. Her defiance intrigued him. But Nikolai had been taught to see through masks—and this woman wore too many.
Aria leaned into him, close enough for only him to hear. "Careful, Your Highness. I bite."
He chuckled, low and dark. "So do I."
He didn't know it yet—but she was the bite that would end him.
Or maybe... she would be his undoing in ways he didn't yet understand.
The music slowed. Their bodies pressed tighter. Aria's heart thundered—not from fear, but from something more treacherous.
Desire.
She couldn't afford it.
Not now. Not with him.
Because Nikolai wasn't just a prince.
He was the Blood Prince—the man rumored to have personally executed her brother during the Purge.
And tonight, she had danced with the devil wearing his face.
---
When the final note rang out, she curtsied.
He didn't let go.
"You never told me your name," he said.
"Maybe you'll earn it."
She slipped from his grip before he could stop her, disappearing into the swirling crowd.
But his eyes followed her.
And hers… burned with the promise of war.
---
Elsewhere, hidden behind velvet curtains…
Another man watched.
Cassian Varik.
Shadow Prince. Mafia King. Traitor to both crowns.
His gaze lingered on Aria like she was a puzzle he'd almost solved. His fingers flexed at his sides. He knew that face. He'd seen it once, long ago, covered in blood and tears.
He whispered to himself, "She's not supposed to be alive."
The game had begun.
And no one would leave untouched.
---
End of Chapter One