The royal halls were never silent. Whispers lived between their walls, hiding beneath the golden chandeliers and the velvet drapes. But today, silence shattered when Princess Leora slammed the doors open, her breath uneven, eyes wide with betrayal.

“Father,” she said, “I saw her. I saw Mother kissing a guard. I saw her.”

The king’s eyes didn’t move. He just stared at the flames in the fireplace, the glow painting his face with a quiet rage.

“Kill him,” she said coldly, her voice barely hers. “He touched what’s yours.”

And he did. With a nod, the man was dragged out. The queen stood still, watching the guards take away her secret. Her lips trembled, her throat ached to cry—but she didn’t. She thought no one knew.

She was wrong.

The divorce was quiet. No one spoke of it. But the castle could feel the shift in power—her absence made the cold king colder.

And then came the noble gathering.

She had no idea why her father brought her. Just another political party filled with old men, heavy robes, fake smiles, and boring music. She didn’t belong there—until she looked up.

And saw him.

King Aldric. Ruler of three kingdoms. Feared by all. Respected by everyone. He was 52, but no soul would believe it. His dark, slicked-back hair held streaks of silver like lightning trapped in the night. A sharp jawline, a trimmed beard, and piercing steel eyes that seemed to see through everyone—and burn through her. His broad shoulders filled out his black royal coat, and his presence alone made the room feel like it belonged to him. Not just the room—the world.

They said he was cruel. That he could ruin a man’s name with a single word. That no servant dared look him in the eye. That he hadn’t smiled since the day his queen betrayed him.

But when their eyes met, it felt like he did.

He looked at her. Not just a glance. A stare that made her heart punch her ribs. She quickly looked away, pretending to listen to her father speak—but she felt him watching. And he was. For someone so cold, he was oddly fascinated.

She wasn’t dressed to impress. She wasn’t loud, or flirtatious. But something about her drew him in. Maybe it was the way her eyes didn’t beg for his attention like the others. Maybe it was her quiet defiance. Or maybe it was because she looked like someone who wouldn’t break under him… but might bend, if he asked.

The night went on, but he didn’t speak to her.

Not yet.

But as the music faded and nobles began to leave, she felt it—a presence behind her. Heavy. Commanding.

A deep voice, calm but sharp as a blade, spoke low behind her ear.

“You didn’t enjoy the celebration.” He didn’t introduce himself. He didn’t ask her name. He didn’t need to.

“Why?” he asked, stepping forward just enough for her to catch the scent of leather and cold steel, a scent that didn’t belong in this glittering hall of wine and perfume.

His tone wasn’t warm. It wasn’t cruel either. It was something in between—curious. Testing.

And when she turned to face him, he was already watching her like a man who had chosen something—and didn’t intend to let it go.