The moment Kael excused himself to speak with a cluster of northern lords, I exhaled quietly — finally.
The evening had been an exhausting play of polite smiles and hidden daggers. Every toast felt like a test, every bow a calculation. And now that our "perfect couple" act had set tongues wagging, it was time for me to do what I did best — weave influence.
I turned to Kael, who already looked like he'd rather face a battlefield.
"I'll be leaving your side for a moment."
His brow furrowed. "Why?"
"Because," I said, lowering my voice with a smile, "someone has to make sure we leave here with more than good posture."
"You plan to work the room," he said dryly, as if diplomacy were a dirty word.
"Exactly."
His stare lingered on me — assessing, disapproving, and something else I couldn't name.
"Be careful. These nobles smile with fangs."
I tilted my head. "Then it's a good thing I grew mine sharper."
A faint sigh. Then, "Don't wander too far."
"Is that concern I hear, Kael?"
"Caution," he corrected flatly. "Don't confuse the two."
I grinned. "Noted."
The ballroom glittered beneath crystal chandeliers, laughter chiming off marble and mirrored glass. But beneath the splendor, tension hummed — the capital's elite studying us like hawks.
Among the gilded faces and jeweled smiles, one figure caught my attention — Lord Cassian Rosewald, heir of House Rosewald.
House Rosewald, one of the Four Swords, was neither fully aligned with Court nor Crown. Their strength came from the old ways — the study of spirit-bound lands and ancient guardians that predated the Empire itself. To have their favor would mean gaining the trust of those who valued balance over power — and in a court this divided, balance was worth more than gold.
Cassian stood by a balcony arch, a glass of wine untouched in his hand. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were the kind that noticed everything.
I approached, each step deliberate, smile gentle and unreadable.
"Lord Rosewald," I greeted with a polite curtsy.
He turned, offering a faint smile. "Lady Evandelle. Or should I say, the jewel of Dravenhart's new alliance."
"Titles are fickle," I replied smoothly. "They change depending on who's speaking."
"That they do," he said with quiet amusement.
The nobles lingering near him took that as their cue to drift away, leaving us in the soft hum of string music.
"I didn't expect to see you here," I said lightly. "Rosewald rarely leaves the forests for marble halls."
Cassian chuckled softly. "And yet, here I am — summoned like an unwilling spirit."
"Then perhaps we have something in common," I said. "We're both being asked to perform for others' expectations."
His brow arched slightly. "You don't enjoy your role?"
"I enjoy playing it well," I corrected, lips curving. "Enjoyment and strategy are often confused."
A small pause — interest flickering behind his calm expression.
"The Dravenharts are lucky," he said finally. "Few can speak like that and not sound rehearsed."
"Luck had nothing to do with it. Survival did."
That earned a short laugh. "Honesty at a ball. How refreshing."
We talked — lightly, carefully, the conversation drifting between politics and myths, between veiled truths and laughter that wasn't forced. Cassian wasn't like the others. He listened. He watched.
When I mentioned the northern territories and the Crown's indifference, his eyes sharpened — not with judgment, but with thought.
"I've always believed the Empire forgets the quiet corners that keep it alive," he murmured. "Perhaps Dravenhart will remind them."
"Perhaps," I said softly. "With the right voices beside them."
For a heartbeat, our gazes met — a flicker of understanding passing between us. Not alliance yet, but something close.
"Lady Zelene," he said, tone warm. "If the Dravenharts seek counsel beyond the Court's noise, Rosewald's gates are open."
I smiled. "Then I'll make sure our next correspondence doesn't come with a royal seal attached."
He chuckled at that, lifting his glass in a quiet toast. "A wise decision."
As I turned back toward the crowd, my eyes immediately found Kael across the ballroom — watching me.
Not scowling, not displeased — just watching. Assessing. Maybe a touch curious.
I dipped my head slightly, wordlessly telling him I did my job.
And though he didn't move, I caught it — the faintest nod, the smallest ghost of approval.
---
(Third POV)
The night air was sharp as they stepped out of the ballroom. The chandeliers dimmed behind them, leaving only the murmur of music fading into the distance.
The carriage door shut with a soft click, sealing the world outside. Inside, the silence settled like frost. Zelene leaned against the cushioned seat, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips.
"Well," she said, exhaling softly, "that went better than I expected."
Kael didn't respond immediately. He sat across from her, his posture straight, his face unreadable — except for the faint twitch of his jaw.
She tilted her head. "You're awfully quiet, Kael."
His gaze flicked toward her, gray eyes cool under the dim carriage lamp. "You seemed to enjoy yourself."
"Of course I did. The nobles adored me." She smirked. "Some were even begging for my attention. I'd say our little 'in love' act worked perfectly."
He hummed, low and skeptical. "Is that what you call it? An act?"
Her brow rose. "Obviously. Why? Don't tell me you were convinced too."
Kael leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly. "You play this game too well for someone who claims to dislike it."
Zelene blinked, surprised. "Excuse me?"
"You smile, flatter, maneuver — and they eat it up. You speak to people like you already know what they want to hear."
"That's called being smart," she countered, crossing her arms. "You can't just glare at people and expect them to respect you. You have to charm them into it."
"Charm," he repeated, like it was a distasteful word. "You call manipulation charm now?"
Zelene gave him a look, half amused, half challenging. "You say that as if you didn't just let me do the heavy lifting tonight. Someone had to keep the Dravenhart name shining while you stood there brooding like a painting."
That earned her a sharp exhale — not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. "You really don't know when to stop talking, do you?"
"Not when I'm right," she said cheerfully.
The carriage rocked slightly as it hit a stone, and for a brief second, Kael's gloved hand steadied her — instinctive, gentle, then withdrawn almost too quickly.
Zelene caught the faintest flicker of tension in his jaw. "Oh, relax," she teased. "I don't bite."
"You might," he muttered.
Her lips twitched. "What was that, Kael?"
"Nothing."
She chuckled under her breath. "You know," she said softly, watching him from the dim corner of her eye, "if you frown any harder, the nobles will think I'm about to marry a storm cloud."
"Then they'll know the truth," he replied smoothly.
Her laughter filled the small space, light and teasing — but somewhere beneath it, Kael's eyes lingered just a little too long before turning away.
.
.
.
.
By morning, the capital was buzzing.
"Lady Evandelle stole the ball," the servants whispered in corners.
"They say she turned heads with a single smile."
"Even Lord Rosewald couldn't stop looking at her—"
"And Duke Kael? They say he looked... possessive."
Zelene overheard it all as she sipped tea by the window, dressed in a soft robe, hair loosely tied. She was radiant in the morning light — and unbearably pleased with herself.
Darius entered first, holding a rolled-up newspaper. "Milady, it seems your... performance last night has reached the front pages."
"Oh?" She smiled, taking the paper. "Do tell."
He cleared his throat. " 'The Duke of Dravenhart and his fiancée, Lady Zelene Evandelle, enchanted the night with undeniable chemistry. Their affection appeared genuine—'"
"Oh, please," she interrupted, pretending to swoon. " 'Genuine affection'? They make it sound like I actually like him."
Behind Darius, Kael appeared, half-dressed in his morning uniform, holding a stack of letters. "You enjoyed this far too much."
"Obviously," she said, setting the cup down. "Our plan worked perfectly. The nobles can't stop talking about us. You should be thanking me."
Kael arched a brow. "For turning the capital into a gossip pit?"
"For making Dravenhart relevant again," she countered with a grin. "You have to admit, I make an excellent fake lover."
He didn't answer, just gave her that stoic, long-suffering stare that made her grin wider.
"Oh, don't be such a sourpuss," she teased, standing and walking closer. "This deserves a celebration."
"Celebration?" he repeated slowly.
"Mhm." She clasped her hands dramatically. "We made it through one night without you scowling at everyone. The nobles adore us. The kingdom's talking. I call that a victory."
Kael exhaled, weary. "And how exactly do you plan to celebrate?"
Zelene's eyes glinted with mischief. "By tormenting you with my company all day, of course."
He groaned softly. "You're impossible."
"Correction," she said, winking as she breezed past him toward the door, "I'm effective."
And as the door shut behind her, Kael caught himself almost smiling — just barely.