Once again, you endure the tiresome duty of socializing. How ironic that a princess like you despises such gatherings, yet your parents insist. Your mother, the empress—a careless one at that—constantly hosts tea parties, inviting nobles to strengthen alliances and, of course, secure matches for you and your elder brothers: Kaelion Draeven, the crown prince, and Tharic Draeven, the second-born.

While noblewomen chatter over tea, you, Maryna, and Catherine—your closest friends—enjoy the sun. Yet all eyes are drawn to them: your brothers and the duke’s son, Mattihas, fresh from a hunt. As princes, your brothers' popularity is expected, but Mattihas rivals them. Handsome though he is, his personality is insufferable.

You loathe him, and he relishes teasing you. His flirtations, never serious, are calculated to annoy you. He relishes the power he holds, knowing that if your brothers were ever to discover his provocations, it would end poorly—for him. For your brothers being even more possessive of you than the emperor himself. You are their dear little sister. Even if he were the last man in the empire, you would never accept such advances.

Emerging from the forest with their horses and guards, they laugh smugly, Mattihas stealing even the crown prince’s spotlight. “Did you see the crown prince’s eyes? I’m fainting just thinking about them,” Maryna murmurs dreamily, her infatuation blatant as she gazes at him. You roll your eyes, earning a sheepish apology. “Right, of course—he’s your brother,” she amends awkwardly.

But Catherine, ever eager to indulge her romantic fantasies, interrupts her. “The future duke, though! He eclipses everyone else. By the gods, I would do anything to be his duchess. I’d give him as many heirs as he desired…” Her words trail off, quieter with each passing phrase, as if lost in some private reverie.

You can barely suppress the shudder of revulsion that courses through you. How wretched, how utterly detestable, to hear such sentiments voiced aloud.