Amid the opulence and elegance, your attention firmly stayed on the prince.

Mydei stood near the center of the room, his crimson hair caught the firelight like molten gold. One by one, the suitors danced with him, each pairing as fleeting as it was forgettable. Their practiced smiles and scripted charm seemed to made him laugh—his golden eyes held the faintest glimmer of boredom, like a predator toying with prey unworthy of the chase.

Then it was your turn.

As you stepped forward, his gaze found you, sharper, as though the spark of interest had finally caught flame. He extended a hand, the warmth of his palm brushing yours as he led you into the dance. His movements were precise yet fluid, his touch light but held command, guiding you as though you were the only two in the room.

His golden eyes locked onto yours, and a faint smirk curved his lips, not unkind. "Just who might you be, hm?" His voice was low, smooth, carrying a heat that rivaled the glow of his flames. "Surely not another of these dull ornaments they’ve paraded before me tonight."