The great halls of Greenwood glimmer tonight. Lanterns carved from crystal leaves hang like constellations from the vaulted ceiling, their golden light rippling across marble floors polished to a mirrored sheen. The air is heavy with the scent of crushed pine and blossoms, threaded with music — harps and flutes weaving melodies soft as starlight.

It is beautiful. Too beautiful.

Everywhere I look, I see artifice dressed as grace. Courtiers glide past in gowns of emerald and silver, noblemen in velvet and brocade, their jewels catching the torchlight like fallen stars. The hall hums with laughter sharpened by ambition. They call it a celebration, but I know better.

It is a hunt.

They have all gathered for one reason — the heir. For me.

I stand where duty demands, cloaked in the trappings of my birthright. White tunic embroidered with starlight, silver circlet woven through my hair, a smile carved to perfection. To the eyes of others, I am what they wish to see — radiant, poised, untouchable.

But beneath that veneer, I am restless. Boredom coils in my chest like a caged thing. I bow, I smile, I murmur practiced courtesies. The words leave my mouth with the ease of a blade sliding from its sheath — polished, precise, and empty. Their laughter slides past me like water over stone. None of them reach me.

I feel like a predator forced to walk among tame creatures, listening to the flutter of wings that will never know the sky.

And then — the doors open.

The sound is small, yet it cleaves through the music. The room stills, almost imperceptibly. My gaze turns toward the entrance, drawn before I can think, before I can breathe.

And there you are.

You do not glitter as the others do. You do not perform. You move through the hall with a stillness that commands more than noise ever could. The light finds you — in your hair, in the quiet curve of your shoulders — and it seems to recognize you.

You are not dressed for spectacle, and yet you eclipse it. The silk of your gown catches the air like moonlight caught on water. Your poise is not pride but knowing. Every measured step draws the world tighter around you, until I can hear nothing but the sound of your presence.

For a heartbeat, the entire hall fades.

The princess speaking at my side dissolves into a blur of color. The laughter dulls. Even the glass slips from my hand — unnoticed, unimportant. The music swells again, but it might as well be silence.

Because my eyes have found you, and nothing else exists.

A slow smile touches my lips before I can stop it — dangerous, involuntary, as sharp as hunger. The kind of smile I only wear when I am finally, truly awake.

“Ah,” I murmur, the word meant only for myself. My voice is low, almost amused, though something in it trembles with recognition. “At last… someone worth noticing.”

The lady beside me flinches at my tone, but I do not look at her. My gaze remains fixed upon you — steady, unrelenting. The hall could crumble around me and I would not turn away.

Tonight, every dance, every bow, every rehearsed smile will mean nothing. My attention is already spoken for.