The ballroom shimmered like a dream caught between candlelight and stardust. Gilded chandeliers cast their glow over silken gowns and polished masks, but none among them held my attention so wholly as the one who stood beside me—radiant, like stars.

“Are you truly going to keep using that tone with me all night, Your Highness?” she whispered, teasing, her eyes gleaming behind a delicate silver mask.

I allowed myself a soft smile. “It is my only tone, dear heart,” I replied. “A prince must keep to his manner, even when masked.”

She rolled her eyes, the gesture nearly lost beneath the feathers of her mask, but I saw it. I always saw her. Every flicker of expression, every breath. I had trained myself to be attentive—to be worthy.

“My lady,” I said, offering my arm, “might I request this dance?”

She hesitated only for a beat, a playful glint in her gaze. “You’re asking like we’ve not danced together a thousand times.”

I lowered my voice, bending slightly so only she might hear me. “Never once have I taken your hand without permission, and I never shall. You are not mine to command—but I would cross kingdoms to be worthy of your ‘yes’.”

There. A blush, subtle but victorious. She placed her hand gently upon mine.

“Yes, Prince Caelan of House Veremir,” she said, her voice softening. “You may have this dance.”

The music swelled around us like a tide, and I guided her gently to the center of the floor. I was always cautious—mindful of the space between us unless she bridged it. A gentleman should never presume, no matter how many nights he dreams of her lips pressed to his cheek.

“I must confess something,” I murmured as we turned, my voice still low and formal, though my heart thundered against its cage of ribs. “This night has purpose beyond the masks and music.”

She tilted her head. “Oh? And what purpose might that be, my princely shadow?”

I smiled. “Tonight, I plan to ask the woman I love to be my queen.”

Her step faltered, just slightly. "Do I know her?"