The grand ballroom of Eryndor was the epitome of opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung like fallen stars from the vaulted ceiling, casting golden light that shimmered against polished marble floors. The soft, melancholic strains of a string quartet wove through the air, mingling with the scent of roses and faint incense. Nobles adorned in the finest silks and jewels danced in intricate patterns, their laughter and murmurs a thin veil over the unspoken tension that lingered like a shadow in every corner.
Prince Valric stood near the edge of the room, his dark eyes surveying the grandeur with cold detachment. His tall, commanding frame was draped in tailored black and silver, every detail meticulously chosen to exude authority. Yet, beneath the polished surface, his thoughts were weighed down by the grim reality of the evening.
This wasn't a celebration. It was a display of unity between Eryndor and Selvaris—a fragile, reluctant alliance sealed by a marriage he hadn't chosen. His jaw tightened at the thought. The union wasn't born of love but necessity, a calculated move to secure the survival of two kingdoms on the brink of collapse.
And then she entered.
Princess Seris of Selvaris strode into the ballroom, her presence commanding every gaze in the room. Her raven-black hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose waves, framing a face as sharp as her gaze. She wore a gown of deep crimson, the fabric clinging to her curves and shimmering like molten fire under the chandelier's light. A golden crown rested atop her head, but her expression made it clear she wore it as an obligation, not a privilege.
Valric's eyes locked onto hers across the room. For a moment, the crowd seemed to fade, the music dulled into the background. Her gaze was sharp, unflinching, and brimming with defiance. There was no warmth in her look, no hint of submission. If anything, she walked toward him like a predator entering her rival's territory, her steps deliberate and unyielding.
She stopped a few paces away, her chin tilted upward. "Your Highness," she said, her voice laced with a mocking tone. The way she said it made the title feel foreign, as an insult rather than a greeting. Her eyes flickered over him with obvious judgment. "I see you've mastered the art of looking utterly miserable at your own celebration."
Valric's jaw clenched, but his expression remained impassive. He refused to let her see how her words hit their mark. "I find no joy in false pretenses, Princess," he replied coolly. "And this... spectacle is precisely that."
Her lips twitched. "How refreshing. A prince who doesn't even bother pretending to care. I'm sure your court is swooning over your sincerity."
He stepped closer, his dark eyes narrowing. The scent of roses clung to her, but it did little to mask the fire in her gaze. "If you're here to test my patience," he said, his voice low and edged with warning, "you'll find I have more of it than you might expect. But I wouldn't recommend pushing your luck."
She tilted her head, as though considering his words, her eyes never leaving his. "How fascinating," she mused. "A prince with patience. And yet, here you are, bound to a marriage you clearly despise. Perhaps you're not as composed as you'd like everyone to believe."
The tension between them thickened, an invisible battle waged in the charged air. Valric's fists tightened at his sides, his pride warring with the need to maintain control. Seris, however, seemed to revel in the moment, her defiance shining brighter with every passing second.
A sudden voice broke the tension. "Prince Valric, Princess Seris," a courtier announced, stepping forward with a polite bow. "The court suggests you share a dance. A symbol of unity between your kingdoms."
Seris raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking to Valric with a challenge. "Your Highness, Shall we entertain the crowd?"
His lips curved into a faint smirk, though his eyes remained cold. "If it will ease their minds," he said, extending a hand toward her.
Her hand slipped into his, the touch light but charged with defiance.
The crowd parted as they stepped onto the dance floor, their movements drawing every gaze in the room. The music swelled, and Valric placed a firm hand on her waist, guiding her into the first steps.
Seris followed his lead, her movements fluid yet deliberate, as though daring him to falter. "You're surprisingly graceful," she remarked, her voice low enough for only him to hear. "I half-expected you to trip over your arrogance."
His lips twitched, amusement flickering briefly in his dark eyes. "And you, Princess, are as sharp-tongued as the rumors claim. Tell me, is this how you charm all your suitors?"
Her gaze met his, unyielding. "Only the ones I have no intention of impressing."
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Careful, Seris. Someone might think you're trying to provoke me."
"And if I am?" she shot back, her tone teasing yet firm.
A flicker of something darker in his gaze. "Then I'd say you're playing a dangerous game."
The dance continued, their movements perfectly synchronized despite the tension crackling between them. To the watching crowd, they appeared every bit the ideal couple—regal, poised, and united. But beneath the polished surface, a battle of wills raged on, each step a silent challenge.
As the music drew to a close, Valric tightened his grip on her waist just slightly, leaning in so his breath brushed against her ear. "You may hate this marriage," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "But you'll find I'm not so easily broken."
Her lips curved into a smile. "And you'll find, Valric, that I'm not so easily tamed."
As the final notes of the dance echoed through the ballroom, the two stepped apart, their gazes locked in a silent promise of battles yet to come. The crowd erupted into polite applause, oblivious to the storm brewing between the prince and princess.
This was only the beginning.