The ballroom shimmered like a dream. Crystal chandeliers hung above like frozen fireworks, scattering ribbons of light across gowns and polished marble. Every noble wore their best — lace, silk, and carefully practiced smiles — but all eyes turned to us.
To me and Kael.
We descended the marble steps with synchronized grace — well, mostly synchronized. His steps were precise and deliberate; mine had a hint of deliberate sway, just enough to feed the illusion of a woman in love.
The Crown Prince, Adrien Valen Ascanthus, stood near the center of the room — a vision in white and gold. His uniform was embroidered with the sigil of the royal house: a lion cradling a sun. Sunlight itself might've envied how he carried it.
He was every inch the prince of the empire — tall, striking, with hair the color of pale gold and eyes like molten amber that gleamed with intelligence and danger in equal measure.
And the way he smiled at Kael?
It wasn't warmth. It was memory — sharp-edged and half-buried under politeness.
"Duke Dravenhart," Adrien greeted, voice smooth as polished glass. "It's been a while."
"Your Highness," Kael replied, tone clipped but impeccably respectful. "An honor."
A faint smile tugged at the prince's lips. "The honor's mutual, I assure you. Though I must admit... I wasn't expecting to see you here." His gaze flicked toward me, and for a brief, fleeting moment, there was curiosity — maybe even amusement. "And accompanied, no less."
I stepped forward, curtseying with a grace I didn't feel but had mastered. "Lady Zelene Evandelle, Your Highness."
"Ah, yes." Adrien's tone softened, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "The Evandelle jewel. I've heard the capital has been awaiting your return."
I matched his smile with my own, honeyed but measured. "I could say the same of you, Your Highness. The capital never stops speaking of its sun."
A quiet chuckle left his lips. "You flatter too easily, my lady."
"Only when the subject deserves it."
Kael shot me a look from the corner of his eye — subtle, almost imperceptible, but I caught it. It said, stop provoking royalty.
I, of course, did not.
The prince turned back to Kael, his expression shifting — faint amusement giving way to that old, heavy tension again. "You've done well to step into the light again, Kael. For a time, I was beginning to think the North had swallowed you whole."
Kael's reply was quiet, but each word measured. "Some things are better handled in silence, Your Highness."
"Mm," Adrien murmured. "And yet silence is what lets rumors grow."
A ripple of subtle tension flowed through the nobles around us — the faint pause of fans mid-flutter, the quiet rustle of silk as heads turned.
Perfect, I thought, slipping in like oil between two flames. "Rumors can be useful, though. After all, they're the fastest way to spread the truth... once you decide what the truth is."
Adrien's gaze landed on me again, sharp and appraising. "You speak like someone who knows the game well."
I smiled. "I was raised in it."
Kael said nothing, but his hand brushed against mine — the faintest reminder of the act we were playing. I took it immediately, fingers threading through his, leaning closer as if the gesture was natural, easy, intimate.
A flicker of surprise flashed across his eyes — just for a second — before he masked it completely.
The whispers grew louder.
"They look... good together, don't they?"
"I never thought Dravenhart capable of such charm."
"Evandelle and Dravenhart — that's a powerful alliance."
Exactly what I wanted.
Adrien's lips curved faintly, but his tone was smooth as silk. "How interesting. It seems the empire's most reserved duke has found his equal."
"Found?" Kael said dryly, finally meeting his gaze head-on. "I wouldn't use that word."
Adrien chuckled lowly. "Then perhaps matched suits better."
The tension was a thread drawn taut between them — old and brittle, but still alive.
I tugged lightly at Kael's sleeve, my smile still painted on. "Your Highness," I said sweetly, "if you'll excuse us, the orchestra just started the waltz. And it would be a tragedy if the perfect couple of the night didn't open the floor."
The prince inclined his head, gaze glinting. "By all means."
As Kael led me away — his hand steady on my waist, his movements too precise to be entirely comfortable — I could feel the weight of the ballroom's stares pressing in on us.
The music swelled.
Kael leaned down slightly, his voice a low murmur. "You're enjoying this far too much."
"Oh, absolutely," I whispered back, meeting his eyes with a grin. "But look around, Kael — they're buying every second of it."
He exhaled softly, a sigh that was almost a laugh — but not quite.
And as the waltz began, the Duke of Dravenhart and the Lady of Evandelle spun under the chandeliers — two players on a gilded stage, their smiles a perfect lie, their chemistry too convincing to be fake.
But as the night wore on, and his hand lingered a second too long at my waist...
I began to wonder if perhaps — just perhaps — our act was becoming a little too real.
The waltz ended in a blur of applause and admiration.
The nobles' whispers trailed us like perfume — fragrant, heavy, and impossible to escape.
When Kael's hand finally slipped from mine, I felt an unfamiliar chill. For a man who barely spoke, his silence left a mark.
I turned to thank him for the dance, but he had already stepped back, bowing with courteous detachment before walking toward Darius, who hovered near the marble archway. Typical.
And just like that — the sharks came.
"Lady Zelene!"
A cluster of noblemen surrounded me in seconds, each with smiles sharper than their swords.
"Truly, the capital feels brighter tonight."
"Dravenhart is a fortunate man."
"You mustn't tire yourself, my lady — perhaps one more dance?"
Their voices overlapped, polite words hiding hungry eyes. I smiled the way I was trained to — warm enough to charm, distant enough to stay untouchable.
Then came him.
Viscount Darien Rellford
Of course.
"Lady Evandelle," he greeted smoothly, bowing low. His hair was too perfect, his smile too practiced — everything about him screamed of a man who'd rehearsed his charm in every mirror in the capital.
"Viscount Darien," I said, tone clipped, polite.
"I must say," he began, straightening with a smirk, "I didn't believe the rumors until I saw it myself. Lady Evandelle, engaged to the Duke of Dravenhart? How tragic for every man here."
My smile didn't falter. "Oh, I wouldn't call it tragic. Perhaps... enlightening?"
He chuckled, eyes glinting. "I wonder, then — how did the stoic Duke manage to win such a heart? Surely, he didn't speak it into being."
The men around us laughed — a ripple of amusement that made the air feel suddenly stifling.
I could feel Kael's eyes from across the room, though he didn't move. He stood near Darius, his expression unreadable, wine glass poised elegantly in his gloved hand.
But his gaze — cold, steady — never left Darien.
The Viscount leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Or perhaps it isn't love at all, my lady? Perhaps the Evandelles simply grew tired of the Court and its laws."
I met his smirk with one of my own. "Careful, Viscount. If you say such things too loudly, people might think you're jealous."
"Jealous?" He laughed. "Of him? No. I pity him. To be bound to a woman who once could've been mine—"
"Excuse me."
The voice cut through like a blade.
Kael stood behind him, silent and sharp.
The nobles immediately parted, murmuring their excuses as they drifted away, sensing the chill in the air. Darien, however, didn't move.
"Duke Dravenhart," he said smoothly, bowing slightly, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. "You must be used to rescuing your fiancée from attention by now."
Kael didn't even blink. "I don't rescue her," he said coolly. "She chooses where she stands."
I blinked — that wasn't what I expected him to say.
Darien's smirk faltered just slightly, before he turned his attention to me again. "Then, Lady Zelene, you choose to leave with him, do you not?"
The challenge in his voice was soft, but everyone could hear it.
I met Kael's gaze. His expression gave nothing away — but his hand was already extended toward me.
I took it without hesitation. "I do."
The look on Darien's face was worth every ounce of pretense.
Kael turned with me, his hand resting lightly on my back as we walked away. He said nothing, not even when the music shifted into another soft waltz, not even when the whispers started again — the sound of gossip spreading like wildfire.
Only when we were far enough from the crowd, near the balcony doors, did he finally speak.
"You shouldn't have stayed with him that long."
I blinked, a little caught off guard. "What, are you jealous?"
He gave me a look — not angry, not cold, but something else. A flicker of irritation that didn't quite reach his eyes. "He was provoking you."
"And I handled it," I said, crossing my arms. "You didn't need to swoop in like a knight, my lord."
"I didn't," he said flatly. "But watching you entertain him was... irritating."
I froze.
"Irritating?" I echoed, half amused, half intrigued.
He met my gaze, eyes like tempered steel. "Yes."
Something in my chest fluttered — quick, unsteady, unexpected.
"Noted," I said lightly, forcing a smile. "For the record, that's the closest thing to jealousy you've ever admitted."
He sighed — that quiet, resigned sound I was growing fond of. "Don't make a habit of testing it."
I grinned. "No promises."
The moonlight spilled through the glass, turning his features half silver, half shadow — too perfect for someone who claimed to feel nothing.
And as the ballroom laughter drifted faintly through the doors behind us, I thought to myself, maybe, just maybe... I'm not the only one pretending anymore.