The capital gleamed like a dream carved in moonlight.
Marble towers spiraled toward the heavens, their gold inlays glinting beneath the dusk's soft fire. Lanterns hung from arched bridges, their glow reflected in the rivers that cut through the city like veins of light. The scent of lilies, spiced wine, and politics filled the air.
It was beautiful — and suffocating.
Zelene's carriage came to a halt at the Hall of Concord, where the Four Houses gathered under the watchful eyes of gods and men. As the footman opened the door, applause rippled through the crowd waiting beyond the gates. Nobles, courtiers, and sycophants alike craned their necks for a glimpse of the famed Lady Evandelle and her betrothed — the cold and noble Duke of Dravenhart.
Inside the carriage, Zelene exhaled slowly. Her hands rested on the satin folds of her silver gown, the same color as starlight on frost.
"You don't look nervous," Kael murmured beside her.
She arched a brow. "Should I?"
His lips curved faintly. "Only if you're worried someone will notice how breathtaking you look."
Zelene blinked. "You— what?"
Kael only smirked, leaning slightly closer, voice low enough that only she could hear. "If we're going to convince the nobles, we might as well look the part."
Her heart thudded once, betraying her. "You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"The… pretending you're flirting thing."
He smiled — small, quiet, devastating. "Who said I was pretending?"
Before she could answer, the carriage door swung open and Darius cleared his throat discreetly. "We've arrived, my lord. Lady Zelene."
Kael offered his hand, gentlemanly as ever, but his thumb brushed against hers as he helped her down — a subtle, electric touch that left her pulse unsteady.
Inside, the hall shimmered with opulence.
Golden chandeliers cast soft halos of light upon velvet banners bearing the sigils of the Four Great Houses:
Evandelle
Dravenhart
Valemont
Rosanwald
Every noble's gaze turned toward them as the herald's voice rang through the chamber:
"Announcing Duke Kael Dravenhart of the Northern Dominion — and his betrothed, Lady Zelene Evandelle!"
Murmurs followed, accompanied by fluttering fans and sidelong glances.
Zelene felt Kael's arm slide around her waist — steady, protective, and a little too natural. She turned to look at him in surprise, but he only offered that faint, polite smile nobles used to hide the sharpest truths.
Her father, Lord Alaric, stood from the council table, his expression a mix of pride and disbelief. "You two… seem close."
Kael bowed slightly. "We've had to rely on each other, my lord. Adversity fosters trust."
Alaric raised a brow. "Trust? It looks a bit warmer than that."
Zelene coughed lightly, cheeks coloring. "Father—"
Before she could defend herself, Lord Valemont — ever the provocateur — chuckled from across the table. "Ah, young love. How refreshing. For a moment, I thought the Dravenhart heir was carved entirely of ice."
Kael's jaw tightened just slightly, though his voice remained smooth. "Ice preserves what it values, Lord Valemont. It does not melt easily — but it does melt."
The words hung in the air like a quiet challenge. Even Elric, Valemont's son, blinked — surprised by the rare bite beneath Kael's tone.
Zelene felt her pulse flutter, though she wasn't sure if it was from pride or panic.
As the dinner progressed, wine flowed freely, and the nobles' conversations turned from trade to gossip — from diplomacy to whispers of affection.
Zelene found herself seated beside Kael at the long council table. Alaric was on her other side, watching his daughter and the duke with the faintest hint of fatherly suspicion.
"So," Alaric began casually, though his eyes betrayed curiosity, "I hear the two of you were inseparable."
Zelene nearly choked on her wine. "Father—"
Kael, of course, didn't flinch. "We were efficient partners," he said calmly, reaching for his glass. "Our coordination was… remarkable."
Alaric's lips twitched. "Coordination. I see."
Zelene glared at Kael under the table. "You could stop helping," she whispered.
"I thought I was."
"That's not helping!" she hissed back.
His mouth curved slightly. "You look adorable when you're angry."
Her fork froze midair. "You—"
"Ah," Alaric interrupted smoothly, clearly noticing the tension but wisely choosing amusement over interrogation. "Perhaps we should discuss your wedding date next council meeting."
"WHAT?" Zelene sputtered.
Kael, without missing a beat, merely inclined his head. "Whenever the House of Evandelle deems proper, my lord."
Zelene turned to him, wide-eyed. "Kael!"
He met her gaze, that same unreadable calm on his face — but the corner of his mouth curved, just slightly, like he found her outrage amusing.
He didn't even flinch — just turned to refill her glass of wine, as if he hadn't just agreed to a wedding. "You're trembling," he said softly, low enough that only she could hear. "Relax. You'll give the nobles something to gossip about."
"They already have something to gossip about," she snapped quietly. "You just gave them a wedding!"
"Only in words," he murmured, gaze still on the glass as he set it in front of her. "Besides… you look better when you're flustered. More human."
She glared, her cheeks burning. "You're insufferable."
He smiled faintly, the ghost of amusement flickering in his eyes. "I've been called worse."
"Not by me," she muttered.
"Not yet."
Before Zelene could retort, a new voice entered — smooth, rich, and laced with mischief.
"Well, if it isn't the most fascinating pair in the Dominion."
They both turned as Elric Valemont approached, a half-smile curving his lips. He was everything his father wasn't — poised, calm, yet disarmingly unreadable. His ashen blond hair was neatly tied back, his gold eyes sharp with quiet amusement that always seemed to weigh people's worth before he spoke.
"Elric," Kael greeted coolly. "Still counting coins, I see."
"And you," Elric returned with equal calm, "still counting corpses."
The two men held each other's gaze, the air between them tightening for a heartbeat — not hostile, but layered. History.
Zelene blinked between them. "You two know each other?"
Kael's tone was clipped. "Unfortunately."
Elric chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass. "We've crossed paths before. The Dravenhart and Valemont Houses may not share borders, but we share… investments."
"Investments?" Zelene repeated, wary.
Elric's grin widened. "Trade routes. Weapon supplies. The kingdom runs on coin, not honor — something I imagine Duke Kael here doesn't appreciate."
Kael's jaw twitched slightly. "You mistake restraint for disdain."
Elric tilted his head. "And you mistake cynicism for truth."
Zelene watched the verbal duel unfold with reluctant fascination. Kael was composed, guarded — but Elric's words danced like smoke, slipping into cracks Kael rarely showed.
To her surprise, it wasn't anger that flickered across Kael's face. It was amusement.
"Still trying to provoke me, Valemont?"
"Only those worth the effort." Elric's gaze flicked toward Zelene, his tone turning almost languid. "Though, perhaps I should direct my efforts elsewhere. Lady Evandelle, is it?"
Zelene blinked, caught off guard. "Y-yes?"
"Your performance at the council ball last year was memorable," he said, offering a slow, practiced smile that was all charm and calculation. "You've gained quite the reputation — healer, scholar, now fiancée to a duke. You do rise quickly."
Zelene felt her spine stiffen. "Reputation can be fickle, Lord Valemont. I prefer it earned."
His smile deepened, impressed. "Sharp. I see why the Duke keeps you close."
Kael's hand, resting on the table, tensed — so subtly that only Zelene noticed.
Elric caught it too. His grin turned sly. "Protective, are we?"
Kael's tone dropped an octave — smooth, deliberate. "Curious, are you?"
"Oh, constantly," Elric replied easily, then raised his glass in a mock toast. "To alliances — forged in steel, sealed with charm, and occasionally, bound by politics… or affection."
He clinked his glass lightly against Kael's and walked away, leaving the faint scent of bergamot and arrogance in his wake.
Zelene exhaled, shoulders relaxing. "Is everyone here like that?"
"Like what?" Kael asked.
"Beautiful, rich, and insufferable."
Kael's mouth curved faintly. "You forgot dangerous."
She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "You, too?"
He glanced at her — the faintest smile ghosting his lips. "Especially me."
---
When the dinner ended, nobles drifted away in silks and whispers. The moonlight filtered through glass arches as Kael and Zelene walked side by side down the marble hall.
Her heels clicked softly against the floor. "I can't tell if I'm more exhausted or embarrassed."
"You did fine."
"Fine? My father just announced our wedding."
Kael's eyes glinted. "He only suggested it."
"You agreed!"
"I was being polite."
"Polite?" She stopped walking, glaring at him. "You call agreeing to marry me polite?"
He paused, turned, and for a heartbeat — the teasing mask slipped. His gaze softened, searching hers.
"Would it bother you," he said quietly, "if I meant it?"
The hallway fell silent.
Her breath caught, every thought tangling in her chest. "…You're doing it again."
He tilted his head. "Doing what?"
"That pretending thing."
Kael's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes — that quiet, unreadable longing — said otherwise. "Maybe I'm not pretending."
She didn't answer. Couldn't.
Because for the first time, she wasn't sure she wanted him to be pretending at all.