A Dangerous Dance

"Prince Xypheron."

The voice cut through the tension like a blade. Vexaria turned to see Lady Elira, one of the court's most prominent noblewomen, gliding toward them with a practiced smile. Her emerald gown shimmered under the chandeliers, and the way she placed a hand on Xypheron's arm was far too familiar for Vexaria's liking.

"Your Highness, I was hoping for a dance," Elira said smoothly, her gaze flickering briefly to Vexaria before returning to Xypheron.

Vexaria felt a slow, simmering heat rise in her chest—not jealousy, but something close.

Xypheron didn't immediately respond. His eyes remained locked on Vexaria, as if gauging her reaction.

Forcing herself to remain indifferent, she took a deliberate step back. "Don't let me keep you, Your Highness."

Something flickered across his face—something unreadable—but he didn't break his gaze. Then, without a word, he took Elira's hand and led her onto the dance floor.

Vexaria clenched her jaw as she watched him move with effortless grace, leading Elira in a perfect waltz. She shouldn't care. She didn't care. But the way Xypheron's fingers curled around the noblewoman's waist, the way he leaned in just enough to speak in her ear, made something sharp coil in her stomach.

He was playing her game.

Fine.

If he thought he could rattle her, he was sorely mistaken.

With a slow, deliberate inhale, Vexaria turned on her heel and strode toward the opposite end of the ballroom—where a few interested suitors awaited.

If Xypheron wanted to play, she would make sure he lost.