Chapter 1

The grand halls of Velandria's royal palace were adorned with tapestries of gold and crimson, their woven patterns telling stories of kings and queens long past. Chandeliers bathed the marble floors in a warm, flickering glow, and the air carried the scent of roses from the gardens beyond the arched windows. It was a place of beauty—ornate, majestic, and utterly suffocating.

Princess Seraphina stood before the towering mirror in her chamber, her reflection an elegant vision of grace. Her gown, spun from the finest silks, clung to her frame in soft folds of ivory and sapphire. A delicate tiara, forged from the very gold mined from her kingdom's lands, rested atop her chestnut locks. She looked every bit the royal heir she was meant to be. And yet, her heart beat with the restless yearning of a bird trapped in a gilded cage.

Tonight marked the beginning of her betrothal celebrations, a union arranged long before she was old enough to understand what love truly meant. Lord Aldric of House Dunmere—a man known for his cunning rather than his kindness—was to be her husband. The thought sent a cold shiver down her spine.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

"Your Highness," came a voice—firm yet soft.

Seraphina turned as the doors opened, revealing a figure clad in steel and leather. The royal guard stood tall, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting. He was unlike the others, his eyes not filled with the cold detachment of duty, but something else—something unreadable.

Elias.

He had been assigned to her protection for years, his loyalty unquestionable, his sword always at her service. But there had always been something unspoken between them—a silent understanding, an awareness neither dared acknowledge.

"The court awaits you," he said, his voice steady, though his gaze lingered just a second too long.

Seraphina inhaled deeply, forcing herself to mask the unease twisting inside her. With a final glance at her reflection, she turned away from the mirror and stepped toward the door.

As she passed Elias, she caught the faintest flicker of something in his storm-gray eyes—hesitation, longing, or perhaps warning.

She ignored it.

Because duty awaited, and duty always won.

Or so she told herself.

The grand ballroom was a sea of silk and jewels, the air thick with the scent of perfumed nobles and the hum of whispered alliances. Candles flickered from towering candelabras, their golden glow casting elongated shadows across the polished floors. Music swirled through the vast chamber, violins and harps weaving a melody both enchanting and melancholic.

Seraphina stood at the edge of the room, her fingers curled into her satin gloves as she observed the festivities. Laughter and conversation flowed freely, nobles toasting to the prosperity of Velandria—and to her upcoming marriage. Yet, beneath the splendor, she felt like a porcelain doll on display, admired but untouched, her fate already sealed by hands not her own.

"Enjoying the celebration, Princess?"

The voice was smooth, measured. Lord Aldric.

She turned to face her betrothed, her lips curving into the practiced smile she had perfected over the years. He was a striking man, tall and impeccably dressed, his blond hair neatly combed, his sharp blue eyes scanning her with the precision of a hawk assessing its prey.

"I am honored by the kingdom's joy," she replied, her voice even.

He chuckled, offering his hand. "Then let us give them more reason to rejoice."

With no choice but to comply, she placed her hand in his, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor. The music slowed into a waltz, the court watching as their future queen and her betrothed moved in perfect synchronization.

Seraphina's movements were fluid, each step executed with precision, but her heart was not in it. Aldric's grip on her waist was firm, possessive. She felt trapped, suffocated beneath the weight of expectation.

Then, as she twirled, her gaze landed on a familiar figure standing at the edge of the ballroom.

Elias.

He was stationed near the marble columns, his expression unreadable, his posture rigid. Yet, in that brief moment their eyes met, something passed between them—a silent storm of emotion, fleeting yet undeniable.

Her next step faltered.

Aldric's grip tightened. "Careful, my lady. We wouldn't want to cause a scene."

The warning in his tone was clear.

Seraphina straightened, forcing herself to move with mechanical grace. But her heart was no longer in the dance.

It was elsewhere.

With him.