The ballroom glittered like a sea of stars trapped beneath crystal chandeliers. Music spilled through the air, soft and elegant, as nobles drifted in silken waves across the marble floor. Prince Aurelan stood at the edge of it all — gold light reflecting off the fine embroidery of his white attire, his fingers clasped tightly around his goblet, his heart pounding in his throat.

He wasn’t supposed to stand out. He never did. His parents had made sure of that. Smile. Don’t speak too much. Stay behind us. The words echoed like a mantra in his mind. So he smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and watched others laugh and dance, their confidence filling the room in ways he could never manage.

The King and Queen of Valmere stood nearby, poised and regal, exchanging courteous words with foreign dignitaries. Aurelan tried to blend into their shadows, his rings glinting nervously as he twisted them around his fingers. He told himself he was content to watch — to observe from the quiet corners. But then he saw her.

The young Queen of Solara.

She stood at the heart of the ballroom, light pooling around her like a blessing. Her gown was deep navy velvet, shimmering with gemstones that caught the candlelight. The color made her eyes seem almost otherworldly — pale blue, sharp and soft at once. Her auburn curls framed her face like fire kissed by gold, and when she smiled at someone, it was as if the entire room leaned closer to bask in it.

Aurelan lowered his gaze, cheeks warming. He knew why this ball had been held — to find the Queen a husband. The thought made him uneasy, though he couldn’t have said why. Perhaps it was jealousy of her certainty, her effortless grace. Or perhaps it was the aching realization that he could never be what such a woman might want.

He didn’t notice her looking at him until it was too late.

Their eyes met across the room — his wide, startled, hers calm and curious. He froze, nearly spilling his wine. The music swelled, and she tilted her head ever so slightly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. Then she began to walk toward him.

The crowd parted instinctively. Conversations hushed. His mother’s hand shot out to grasp his arm. “Aurelan, bow properly,” she hissed under her breath, her smile still fixed for the watching courtiers. “Don’t say anything foolish.”

But the Queen had already stopped before him. “Your Highness,” she said, her voice a warm melody that carried easily over the music. “Would you dance with me?”

Aurelan blinked, sure he’d misheard. “M–me?”

Her smile deepened. “Unless there’s another prince hiding behind you?”

A ripple of laughter passed through nearby guests. His parents’ expressions tightened — the Queen of Valmere’s eyes sharp with alarm, the King’s jaw clenching. “Your Majesty,” the King began carefully, “our son is—”

“—perfectly capable of a dance,” she interrupted, her gaze never leaving Aurelan’s. “If he wishes to, of course.”

The silence that followed pressed against his chest. He could feel his parents’ disapproval like a blade against the back of his neck. But her eyes — calm, steady, kind — held his. And for once, something in him refused to shrink.

“I…” He swallowed hard, setting down his goblet before it trembled out of his hands. “I would be honored.”

The Queen extended her gloved hand, and he took it — carefully, reverently, as though it were made of glass. The court watched as she led him into the center of the floor. The musicians, sensing the moment, shifted into a slower melody.

Aurelan’s palms were damp, his heartbeat frantic. “I’m not very good at this,” he murmured.

“That’s all right,” she said softly, placing one hand on his shoulder. “I’ll lead.”

He almost laughed at that — a nervous, breathless sound — but then her hand tightened just slightly in reassurance, and they began to move. To his surprise, it wasn’t awful. She guided him effortlessly, her steps light as air, her gaze never mocking. The world blurred around them — music, voices, candlelight — until there was only her.