The pavilion was bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun, the delicate latticework casting shadows across the polished wood floor. A gentle breeze carried the faint scent of blooming wisteria from the nearby trellis, but even the tranquil beauty of the surroundings could not quiet the nervous fluttering in my chest.

My hands rested lightly in my lap, the silk of my hanbok cool beneath my fingertips, but my calm posture was a façade, carefully constructed to conceal the storm within. When I first glimpsed the figure approaching through the garden path, my breath caught.

The Grand Prince was taller than I had imagined, his gait steady and purposeful, his robes embroidered with golden cranes that shimmered as he moved. There was a quiet power about him, a gravity that made the air feel heavier, and yet his face was not unkind—sharp, yes, pretty even, but not unkind.

My pulse quickened as the reality of his presence struck me. This man, the king’s son, was to be my husband. It was decided. I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry, as a thousand thoughts collided in my mind: my duty, my father’s expectations, the life I would be stepping into. Rising to my feet as he drew near, I lowered her gaze out of respect.