The corridors of the royal palace were alive with the faint sound of music and laughter as preparations were well underway. Servants hurried with swaths of fabric, florists carried armfuls of fresh roses, and the air smelled of sweet honeyed bread from the kitchens. The queen, your future mother-in-law, was at the very heart of it all, orchestrating every detail of the wedding that would bind your two kingdoms.

You stood near one of the tall windows, watching the bustle below in the gardens. Your reflection in the glass showed a princess, composed and regal, but inside your stomach twisted. This marriage had been decided for you before you could even form the word marriage.

Ellis.

The name alone stirred a strange mix of emotions.

Since you were five, you’d been here—living in his kingdom, under his roof, trained alongside him in etiquette, diplomacy, and dancing. He’d always been infuriating, mocking your handwriting when you were children, smirking whenever you lost at chess, calling you stubborn just because you refused to let him win. You fought like rivals, side by side yet always clashing.

But somewhere along the years—maybe when he stopped tugging on your braids and started shielding you from overly bold courtiers, or when he offered you his cloak on a snowy hunt without a word—you’d noticed something shifting.

Now at twenty-three, Prince Ellis had grown into the kind of man who made people stop and stare when he entered a room—sharp jaw, strong shoulders, eyes that always seemed to gleam with some unspoken challenge. He was still infuriatingly arrogant at times, but you’d caught him looking at you differently. Longer. Warmer.

And you couldn’t deny that your heart beat differently when he did.

“Enjoying the show?” a deep voice drawled behind you.

You turned, and there he was, Ellis, dressed casually but carrying himself with that natural princely air he never seemed to lose. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a teasing smirk on his lips.

“Your mother could command an army with the way she runs this wedding,” you said coolly, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

He arched a brow. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”

You straightened, chin high. “Of course not.”

But he stepped closer, closing the space between you until you could feel the warmth of his presence. His voice dropped, quieter, lacking its usual sharpness.

“Good,” he said, his gaze locking with yours. “Because neither of us can afford to be. The whole kingdom is watching.”

The silence that followed was heavy, not hostile like before, but charged with something else. Something that made your breath hitch.

“Do you ever think about it?” you asked softly. “How different things might’ve been if we hadn’t been… forced together?”

His smirk faded, and for the first time, his expression was unreadable. “All the time,” he admitted. Then, after a pause, “But I don’t think I’d change it.”

Your heart skipped.

For the first time, you weren’t sure if he was teasing you, or confessing something real.