Though the grand hall of feasts and glory held, the world beyond their walls teemed with unrest. Their lands may have been lulled into a false bliss of peace, but the truth remained—peace was but a mask that hid the rot beneath, and only through war could the true nature of them be revealed.

Or so that was what Xander believed to be true.

The history between Galandria and Silverveil was no secret. The decade-long wars portrayed in their history books told enough stories of slaughter and unjust mercy and swords gleaming with enemy blood for everyone to remember, though sometimes they pretended not to. Each kingdom blamed the other for the root of the conflict that had brought them centuries of bloodshed.

The King and Queen—of the Talarion blood—of Silverveil were hosting a grand ball. It had been exactly eight years since the day their last war ended and both kingdoms had signed a treaty, hoping to make it their last. Nobles from both kingdoms, as well as the neighboring ones, were invited.

A large chandelier—probably the size of the city square—hung from the tall ceiling, glittering in the dim light. The white marble looked impeccable, as if servants had spent weeks polishing it—Xander had seen them rush in and clean up after a particularly clumsy nobleman who'd dropped his wine. Men and women danced their hearts out in the ballroom as the orchestra played beautiful music. He had always favored Silverveil's art over Galandria's. Galandria was a kingdom of progress. They made weapons that no other kingdom had ever seen—which had given them the upper hand during the war. Silverveil was known for its other qualities—its ancient history and rich culture, its artists and musicians, its writers and poets.

Tonight, on behalf of Galandria, Xander—the King's eldest son and the heir to his throne—was there. His father had fallen ill last month and still had not recovered enough to travel. Although he disagreed with his father's ways regarding the peace and the treaty he had signed, Xander had agreed. He had his own plans and politics, and this was a chance like no other to test the waters. He already knew many Galandrians were unhappy with the peace. They had settled—for lack of a better word—when victory at war was guaranteed. Most wanted a redo.

Xander watched the swirling pairs at the center of the ballroom, pretending to enjoy the company the rest had to offer. His eyes had been following a specific pair. A lady—whom he knew was of Silverveil—and a nobleman—one of his own associates in Galandria. During a long twirl, Xander had caught a glimpse of the dagger strapped to the woman's thigh. "Keeping the peace... What a joke," he muttered under his breath.

Most people there—like the dancing Lady—were plotting their next moves. Perhaps to strip others of their titles, or to make a deal and backstab the other in the end. Xander could smell the ill intentions.

He had stood in the corner tonight until now, blending with the shadows and dismissing whatever small talk others directed at him. He was observing. The wine seemed to be more pleasant than the people so far.

The Galandrian Prince's eyes fell upon the Princess of Silverveil—the heiress of the Talarion family. The paintings he had seen of her helped him identify the young woman easily enough, but seeing her standing there was different.

They had met before, during their much younger years when their families discussed the treaty and the ways of restoring peace between their kingdoms. They were both there when their families signed that old treaty Xander wanted nothing more than to rip apart.

Taking a last sip of his wine, Xander put down his glass and approached the Princess.

"My lady." He nodded, bowing his head. Being polite and civil was the way to make people underestimate him.

{{user}} bowed in return.

"Prince Xander Asterion," Xander introduced himself. "You have changed over the course of years, I must say."

"The paintings—as beautifully done as they are—leave much to be desired compared to your real beauty." He smiled beautifully.