The grand hall of the palace was filled with nobles, their jeweled robes shimmering under the glow of chandeliers. Laughter, calculated and false, echoed against the marble walls. Prince Kael sat on the throne beside his father, his expression unreadable. A golden goblet rested in his hand, untouched.
This was supposed to be a celebration. A night of joy. His engagement had just been announced, and the kingdom rejoiced as if love had anything to do with it.
Love.
Kael almost scoffed at the word. A ridiculous sentiment. A fragile illusion the common folk entertained. In reality, marriage was a contract—a binding agreement that secured power, ensured alliances, and continued bloodlines. There was no need for emotions to complicate what was merely duty.
His bride-to-be had not yet arrived. He barely remembered her name, only that she was from the Kingdom of Elyndria, a place known for its wealth and strategic ports. That was all that mattered.
Beside him, King Aldric raised his goblet. "To my son, the future king, and his union with Lady—" He hesitated, glancing at Kael for confirmation.
"Seraphina," Kael supplied coolly.
"Yes, Lady Seraphina." The king smiled as the court erupted in cheers.
Kael took a slow sip of his wine, masking his disinterest. He had no desire for romance, no use for whispered affections or delicate touches. His mother had once loved his father, or so she claimed, but she had wasted away in sorrow when that love was not returned. He had learned from an early age that love was weakness.
A herald's voice rang through the hall. "Presenting Lady Seraphina of Elyndria!"
The doors swung open.
Kael lifted his gaze, expecting yet another demure, soft-spoken noblewoman—one who would bow, smile prettily, and accept her place at his side without question.
But then he saw her.
For a brief, unguarded moment, something in him stilled.
Seraphina did not merely enter the hall—she commanded it. Her crimson gown hugged her curves with effortless grace, the rich fabric clinging to full, tempting breasts and the soft dip of her waist before cascading over hips that swayed with every step. She moved like a queen, like a woman who knew her own power.
And her lips…
Plush, inviting, slightly parted as if she were about to speak yet holding back. It was the kind of mouth that could deliver sharp words or sweet sighs with equal ease.
Kael clenched his jaw.
He was not a man who allowed himself to be distracted by beauty, and yet, for one foolish second, he found himself wondering how those lips would taste.
Annoyed, he shoved the thought away.
She was merely another piece on the board, another pawn in the endless game of politics. It did not matter how she looked or how his body reacted in ways he refused to acknowledge.
Beauty was fleeting. Desire was a weakness.
And Kael did not have time for weaknesses.
He straightened, his expression smoothing back into impassivity as she drew closer.
A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
This might be more entertaining than he thought.
"Prince Kael."
The voice was smooth, poised. But beneath it, he sensed the faintest edge of something else. Something sharp.
Kael's smirk deepened. He had not yet spoken a word to her, but already, he could tell—Seraphina was not going to make this easy for him.
And strangely, he didn't mind at all.