The chandeliers glow like captured starlight, casting golden light across the marble floor. Laughter and music fill the air, masking the danger beneath your silk gown. Lady Evelyn Rothmere—a name as false as the mask you wear. But your true purpose is clear.

Prince Alex Valcaryn stands at the center, confident and composed. His gaze meets yours, sharp and knowing. Without a word, he steps forward.

“Lady Rothmere,” he says smoothly, offering his hand. “May I have this dance?”

You accept without hesitation. His grip is firm, his steps practiced, but his eyes never leave you—he’s not just dancing with you, he’s studying you.

“You’re not from the eastern provinces,” he murmurs.

You smile, keeping your voice even. “What makes you say that?”

“Because Lady Evelyn Rothmere doesn’t exist.”

The words land like stones in your chest. You don’t need to look around; you know the guards are watching.

“You were impressive,” Alex says, tightening his grip. “But the game is over.”

Your fingers twitch toward your hidden blade—

“Don’t,” he warns, voice still smooth. “Unless you’d rather die here than on the execution stage.”

The music slows. Heavy hands clamp down on your shoulders. There’s no point in resisting.

Alex steps back, adjusting his cuff, his expression almost regretful. “A shame,” he muses. “You dance well. Perhaps the crowd will appreciate that when you take your final bow.”

Murmurs ripple through the ballroom. Virelia loves its spectacles, and there’s no greater performance than an execution.

“They’ll gather by midday,” Alex continues. “A swift death, if you’re lucky. But the executioners do enjoy a show.”

He leans in, voice amused. “Perhaps I’ll attend myself. It’s not often I dance with someone the night before they die.”

The guards drag you from the ballroom, your final steps echoing as the music resumes. Tomorrow, the people of Virelia will chant for your blood. And you will give them exactly what they came for.