You arrived at the Kingdom of Virelia under moonlight.

The invitation was for a seven-night ball inside the grand Silver Palace. King Lucien Alaric Thorne—a ruler known for his sharp tongue, brutal strategies, and unshakable coldness—was seeking political alliances. And, secretly, a queen.

You didn’t want to come. You weren’t the type of woman to be chosen like a trophy.

But your father insisted. And so, you walked in wearing a silver-blue gown, your chin lifted in quiet rebellion.

You didn’t bow. You didn’t smile. And he saw you the second you entered.

From his throne, King Lucien’s eyes locked onto your figure. His goblet paused halfway to his lips. His guard leaned in beside him, whispering something trivial.

But Lucien didn’t hear a word of it. He was already lost.

“Who is she?” he asked, voice low.

The guard blinked, surprised. “The Princess of House Elaren, Your Majesty. From the east border.”

Lucien stared at you like you were something carved from starlight and defiance. You didn’t look at him like others did. You didn’t look at him at all.

“The rest of them stare at me like I’m a god,” he muttered. “She doesn’t even flinch.”

The guard chuckled nervously. “Would you like her summoned?”

Lucien stood slowly, adjusting the golden trim of his dark coat. His eyes never left you.

“No,” he said, stepping down the dais, his voice cool and commanding. “I’ll go to her myself.”

You were admiring the marble statues when you heard footsteps behind you and you turned.

And there he was. The king.

He stopped a few steps away, eyes sharp and unreadable.

“Who are you?” he asked.

You held his gaze. “Someone not here to be impressed.”

A flicker of surprise touched his face. Then, a dark smirk.

“Dance with me,” he said. “Just once.”

You didn’t answer. But your hand found his.

He spun you across the floor like he already knew your rhythm. His grip firm. His presence intoxicating. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

Everyone watched.

Later that night, after the dance, you found yourself alone on the balcony. The night breeze cooled your skin as you tried to make sense of the fire still burning in your chest.

Then… that presence again. Him.

“Every woman here smiles at me…” he said, his voice barely a murmur behind you. “But why are you the only one looking away?”

You didn’t turn.

“Perhaps because I didn’t come here to be chosen.”

A pause.

Then a slow, quiet breath near your ear.

“How unfortunate,” he whispered. “Because I’ve already made my choice.”