Eva stood there, locked in a strange, silent truce with Prince Alaric. The air between them felt charged, like the moments before a storm, heavy with unspoken words and emotions that neither of them dared voice. His gaze, once indifferent, now lingered on her, studying her as if she were a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.
"I don't want to be a pawn," she blurted, breaking the silence. Her voice trembled slightly, but she didn't care. There was no more room for pretending she was unaffected by everything that had happened. "You don't want to be married to someone you barely know, and I don't want to be shoved into a life I didn't choose. But here we are."
Alaric didn't immediately respond. He stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, as though considering her words with careful deliberation. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter than before.
"None of us choose the lives we're given, Lady Evalina." There was a hint of something—something soft, hidden beneath the layers of royal indifference. "But we must make do with what we have."
"Make do?" Eva repeated, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "I'm sorry, but making do doesn't sound like a future I want to live. This marriage, this kingdom—it feels like a prison, not a palace."
Alaric's eyes narrowed, the edge of his irritation returning. "If you think this is a prison, you have no idea what real chains look like. You'll learn soon enough." He turned away abruptly, his cloak sweeping behind him like a stormcloud. "You'll be expected to make an appearance at court tonight. You can sulk in private later. For now, your role is simple."
Eva's heart pounded in her chest. The weight of her reality settled back into her bones, heavier now that she had voiced her frustrations. Her marriage wasn't just an inconvenience—it was a cage, a trap she couldn't escape. How could she ever be herself, truly herself, in a world that demanded her to play a part she never signed up for?
She watched Alaric's retreating figure, his back straight with the stiffness of a man who had learned long ago not to care about the lives of others. The prince wasn't just a stranger to her—he was a shadow, a symbol of everything that was wrong with this new life. And she had no idea how to begin navigating it.
That night, the royal banquet hall was a spectacle of excess. The chandeliers gleamed like diamonds in the flickering candlelight, casting long shadows across the polished floors. Eva stood at the entrance of the hall, her hand clutching the doorframe as she surveyed the scene before her.
It was beautiful, in its own cold, distant way. But to her, it felt like a gilded cage. She was dressed in a gown that was far too elaborate for her tastes—too much fabric, too much sparkle. A far cry from the simple, comfortable clothes she had worn in her old life. This body, this life—it wasn't hers, but it was the one she had to live now.
As she stepped into the hall, the conversations around her stilled. Eyes turned, some curious, some judgmental. The court was watching. Every movement, every glance, every word—it would all be scrutinized, dissected. She wasn't just Evalina Du Montecourt anymore. She was the future queen, the pawn in a royal game. She was under a microscope.
Her pulse quickened, and she felt the heavy weight of the stares pressing against her. She could hear the faint whispers, the snide comments, the idle gossip. They were all watching her, waiting to see how she would act, how she would fit into the role they had assigned her.
Then, her eyes found him.
Prince Alaric stood at the far end of the hall, surrounded by the royal court. His posture was perfect, his expression unreadable, but she could feel the tension emanating from him even from this distance. He was the prince, the future king, the one who would lead the kingdom. And he was also the man she was now bound to by the cruel decree of a king she had never met.
As their eyes met across the room, something flickered between them. A silent understanding, perhaps. Or maybe it was just the shared weight of their predicament.
The quill appeared next to her ear, as if on cue. "Oh, the drama. This is going to be fun."
Eva rolled her eyes. "I don't feel like having fun right now."
"No one expects you to," the quill quipped. "But just remember, this is all a performance. The court wants to see the princess-to-be in action. Smile, look graceful, and play your part. That's all you need to do."
Eva gritted her teeth and forced a smile, stepping further into the hall. As she passed the long tables, she caught snippets of conversation, each one more trivial than the last. The court's gossips. The courtiers who had nothing better to do than pass judgment on the lives of others. And now, Eva's life had become the newest subject of their amusement.
She reached the royal dais, where Alaric stood waiting, his face as unreadable as ever. She felt a flutter of anxiety in her chest, the familiar sensation of being out of her depth.
"Lady Evalina," he said, his voice low, just for her. "Enjoying the spectacle?"
Eva forced herself to nod, though every part of her wanted to flee. "It's certainly... something."
"Don't look so miserable," Alaric murmured, his voice soft, as if he were offering her a moment of solidarity. "The kingdom expects you to be happy, after all."
Eva swallowed hard. "Happy," she repeated, tasting the word on her tongue. Was she supposed to pretend? Was she supposed to play along and feign a happiness that wasn't there?
"You'll get used to it," Alaric said, his eyes meeting hers. "If you're lucky."
The bitterness in his voice surprised her. Alaric, it seemed, wasn't as indifferent to the situation as he let on. Maybe he was trapped, too.
For a fleeting moment, they were two people caught in the same storm. The prince, the future king, bound by duty and blood. And Eva, the forced bride, who had never asked for any of this.
The weight of their roles pressed down on them both, a reminder that neither of them truly had control. They were pieces in a game much larger than themselves.
Eva looked at Alaric for a long time, and for the first time, she saw the faintest flicker of understanding in his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, they weren't so different after all.