She shouldn’t have felt that spark—the thrill of Kaelendrin’s charm, the quiet steadiness in Alarik’s gaze. Her heart, her future, belonged to Castiel. She’d clung to that truth for years. How could two dances and a handful of words make her forget?
Guilt twisted inside her. She wasn’t supposed to smile like that, to laugh, to feel anything beyond duty. Yet Kaelendrin’s teasing had breached her walls, and Alarik’s words had struck deep.
Still, pride for Castiel swelled within her. Even before Alpha royalty, his quiet confidence held firm. In a world where dominance ruled, it was bold for a Beta to step forward.
She expected Kaelendrin to scoff at the intrusion, but instead, he spoke first. “Lord Castiel Vaelmont, isn’t it?”
Her chest squeezed. That the prince knew Castiel only tangled this moment further.
Castiel bowed, a polite smile on his lips. “I’mhonoured Prince Kaelendrin remembers, considering our paths crossed only briefly in Aquris last year.”
Kaelendrin’s response was smooth, the ease of a man well-versed in courtly games. “Your insights into the Aqurian trade coalition left a strong impression of the advantages they would gain by affiliating with Issoirea. Sharp diplomacy—as expected from an Aethonian lord.”
Castiel’s lips stretched just a touch. “Prince Kaelendrin is too generous. I wouldn’t have expected such praise from someone . . . of your rank.”
The prince’s smile didn’t waver. “Rank alone doesn’t define value, as my father’s advisors will assure you.”
Castiel inclined his head. “Perhaps, but knowing one’s place tempers ambition with reason. It’s served me well in diplomacy.”
To the untrained ear, his words were civil, but Reiya caught the edge beneath them. A glance passed between the men, silent but weighted. The music and laughter faded beneath the tension coiling between them.
Kaelendrin remained poised, unruffled.
Castiel, cool but taut, held his gaze.
Then, he turned to her with a calm smile, hand outstretched. “Prince, may I claim the princess’s next dance?”
The Alpha’s gaze lingered a beat too long, the stretch of silence drawing glances from nearby guests. Reiya’s heart skipped. Beside her, Castiel’s hand hovered, waiting.
The shift in the prince’s stance was barely noticeable, but she felt it. The lighthearted Alpha was gone. In his place stood someone sharper, restrained but dangerous—a blade half-drawn from its sheath. His golden eyes, once warm, now cooled, like honey turned to stone.
But even a crown prince couldn’t defy decorum, no matter how much he wanted to.
“If the princess wishes it,” the Tazahrin said at last, his voice taut as he released her hand.
The loss of warmth was immediate. Reiya resisted the urge to look at him as she curtsied and muttered, “Thank you, Prince Kaelendrin.”
Castiel led her away, a refuge of familiar comfort. But as the music swelled, her gaze betrayed her—drifting, again and again, to theAsadian princes. They’d retreated to the fringes of the ballroom, yet their eyes followed her, a pair of shadows refusing to fade.
She forced herself to focus on Castiel, on the steady chestnut eyes she’d known for years. He’d always been constant—a place to rest. Yet the warmth lingering on her skin wasn’t his.
Still, she clung to the familiar, to the man who held her hand and her heart. He looked unbearably handsome in his fitted navy coat, silver embroidery lining the cuffs, the polished Caerelle insignia gleaming against his chest. Dark knee-high boots completed the elegance of his attire—refined, never gaudy. Unlike an Alpha, he had no need for grand gestures, no urge to command attention. With him, there was no battle for control, no struggle to prove herself—only quiet, unwavering support.
“I looked for you earlier.” The words tumbled out in a rush. “I couldn’t find you. Were you called away?”
The music swelled as Castiel pulled her closer, his touch light—reverent even—guiding her with ease through each sweeping step. His gaze traced the curve of her face, as if committing every detail to memory.
Like he was holding onto something already slipping away.
Her hand tightened around his. “Castiel?”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I wasn’t far, but I couldn’t bring myself to watch the tournament.”
A knife twisted deep inside her, caught between him and the inevitability of her future. This dance felt like the final steps of a waltz destined to end in loss.
Whether it was Castiel, her family, or the spark she held within herself, something would slip away by morning.
Their silence swelled with unspoken words. When she glanced up, he was already watching—like a man who knew he shouldn’t ask but couldn’t help yearning.
