The moment your mother mentioned the words “formal dinner”, you knew the end was near.

Arranged marriage. Political alliance. Duty to your court. You had heard it all before.

And yet, this time, they were serious. The suitor was coming in a fortnight. The engagement was to be announced at the upcoming Solstice Ball.

You had two weeks to get out of it.

So naturally, you ran straight to Nyx.

Your childhood friend. The High Lord’s son. And the only person who knew just how much you hated being paraded around like a prize to be claimed.

“So,” you said, pacing across the common room of the House of Wind, “I need a fake suitor.”

Nyx almost choked on his wine when you told him.“Let me get this straight,” he said, lounging on the couch like this was the most entertaining thing he’d heard all year. “You want me to pretend to be your lover so your parents don’t force you to marry a pompous idiot?”

“Yes,” you muttered. “Just until the Solstice.”

He grinned, a glint of mischief in his violet eyes—just like his father. “You want me to lie to your parents?”

“A fake boyfriend,” you repeated. “You know… pretend we’re together so my parents don’t ship me off to some stuck-up heir from another court.You’re in or not?”

He tilted his head, that night-sky gaze of his narrowing in thought.

A beat of silence. Then a smirk.

Nyx leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, grin sharpening.

“Oh, I’m in,” he said, voice low and lazy, like velvet draped over steel. “But just so we’re clear—when you fall for me, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”