"Is that truly His Majesty's heir, Prince Rhydan?" whispered a lady near the corner, her fan half-raised as she gazed at the figure on the dance floor.
"Well, can you really not tell?" another answered with a soft, amused laugh, swirling her wine before taking a sip. "His Highness shines too brightly to mistake him for anyone else. That poise, that presence… who else in the empire carries such charisma?"
All eyes were drawn to him.
Prince Rhydan moved with effortless grace across the polished marble floor, his hand steady at the waist of his partner as they glided in rhythm with the music. His black hair caught the gleam of a thousand candles, while his eyes—icy blue and sharp as cut sapphires reflected the crystal chandeliers above.
But what captivated the court most was not only his bearing but his attire, which declared his station louder than any title could.
