The ballroom was alight with a thousand flickering candles, their glow reflected in the gleaming marble floors and the ornate gold trim of every column. You stood near the edge of the room, a glass of wine in hand, feeling every bit the stranger among the finely dressed crowd. As the princess of a neighboring kingdom, you’d been sent to represent your family at Prince Spencer’s royal gala—an event rumored to mark the beginning of his search for a bride.

You’d heard whispers of Prince Spencer before, of his sharp mind and quiet demeanor, but you’d never seen him in person until tonight. When he entered the room, all conversation hushed, as though even the air around him stilled.

He was taller than you expected, lean but regal in his tailored navy coat embroidered with silver thread. His brown curls framed his face as he seemed to scan the crowd with equal parts curiosity and reluctance. He moved with the kind of grace born of a lifetime of courtly training, but there was something in his expression that betrayed a deeper unease, as though the weight of the evening pressed heavily on his shoulders.

You tried not to stare, but it was impossible to look away. He was unlike any prince you’d encountered—more reserved, almost shy, but with an undeniable presence that drew you in.

“Princess,” a voice interrupted your thoughts, and you turned to see your lady-in-waiting at your side. "The prince is approaching.”

Your breath caught as you glanced back at him. Sure enough, Prince Spencer was making his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on you.

“Your Highness,” he said when he reached you, his voice soft but steady. He bowed slightly, a gesture of respect that felt strangely intimate. "I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”