“I wish you were coming with me, Brienne. You’re the only reason I don’t look like a pig farmer coming in from the mess yard, considering it’s how I feel,” I tell her as I admire myself in the mirror.
My gown is a deep, midnight blue, adorned with tiny crystals that sparkle with every movement, like stars against a night sky. The lace-looped bodice is made of the finest silk that encourages my breasts into an impressive swell, as well as cinches my waist, giving the illusion of curves where I havenone. The fabric flows around me as I twist, soft and luxurious, making me feel both elegant and powerful.
Mathis stands on the threshold of my room, staring unblinking. I reach out to pinch him and he barely moves.
Brienne giggles in the background and says, “I told you, Lady Eirabella.”
I screw up my nose at her. “Are we back to that? It’s just Eira, remember?”
Mathis comes to life and bows as deeply as I’ve seen him bow to the king. “No, tonight, looking like this, you are most definitelyLady Eirabella.” He gallantly offers me his arm. He’s looking as handsome as I’ve seen him, in a light blue tunic and dark blue trousers, his dark brown hair slicked back, showing the high cheekbones and warm blue eyes. “Rylan asked me to come fetch you. He wanted to come himself but he has some princely duties to attend to. And I can’t say that I’m not glad that he did. Shall we?”
I take his arm with a shy smile and feel like a giggly adolescent as he feeds me compliments and flirtatious jokes as we walk through the castle’s hallways. The moment I enter the grand ballroom, I can feel eyes turning toward me, whispers following in my wake. But instead of shrinking under the attention as I normally would, I lift my chin, determined to enjoy this moment.
The ballroom is filled wall to wall with nobility, dressed in their most opulent dresses and tunics, sparkling glasses of champagne in their hands. Trays of treats carried by an army of servers dot the swarm of guests. The dance floor moves almost in unison to the music, and my feet itch to join them.
Then I see him—Rylan, my prince, my mentor, mywho-knows-what—standing among a cluster of young court ladies and their mothers, all vying for his attention, their brightly coloured gowns swirling as they laugh too loudly at whateverconversation they’re forcing. He’s dressed in a sleek black coat trimmed with silver, the crisp white shirt tailored perfectly to his form, accentuating the broad lines of his shoulders and the lines of his corded muscles beneath. The dark material catches the soft candlelight, showing off his quiet aura, as if the very air around him bends to his will. I wouldn't be surprised if it did. Such is his innate power.
His dark hair is tousled just so, the kind of effortless perfection that hints at rebellion against the strict grooming expected of a crown prince. It’s wild yet controlled, as if he’s constantly balancing between the disciplined heir to the throne and the restless man underneath. The sharp angle of his jawline is softened slightly by the faintest shadow of stubble, adding a ruggedness to the otherwise polished appearance.
His eyes, dark and piercing, flicker with quiet observation, but beneath the surface, there’s a restless energy, a palpable disinterest in the simpering conversation around him. The ladies preen and flutter, but he looks completely and utterly bored. His gaze drifts over the room, unfocused, as if searching for someone.
The sight of him utterly steals my breath. For me, his beauty is unmatched. And there’s nowhere and no one else my eyes wish to lay upon. My heart beats faster, and I can’t help but feel the heat rise to my cheeks. He’s handsome—devastatingly,inhumanly handsome—in a way that feels almost unreal. The kind of handsome that makes you question everything you’ve ever known. His mere presence commands the space effortlessly, making the room seem smaller around him. And all I want is to flock to him like a sacrificial moth to his searing flame.
A pang of uncertainty, sharp and sudden, grips me, and a flicker of doubt worms its way into my thoughts. What ifhe sees me the way he sees them—just another silly girl trying to catch the prince’s eye, vying for a sliver of his attention?
I swallow hard, my chest tightening. I’ve never wanted to be part of that game, yet standing here, seeing him like this, I wonder if I’ve already become a nameless piece on his chessboard.
Then he moves his head to the left and his eyes finally find mine, and everything, everything…shifts.
The noise of the room—the chattering ladies, the clinking of glasses, the music—fades away, melting into the background as if it never existed. His eyes, which had been dull with disinterest, suddenly flare with a white-hot intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. There’s no mistaking it—he was searching for something and he found it. He foundme.
In that single moment, the tension in his posture melts, replaced with purpose. His gaze locks onto mine, unwavering, and I feel the fixed focus of it—intense, consuming, as if I’m the only person in the room. His lips twitch into the slightest hint of a smile, a private expression meant only for me, and the air crackles, charged with something neither of us has to name.
Without a word, he steps away from the women, ignoring their disappointed groans and whispered protests. The court ladies reach out, their delicate hands grasping at the space he’s left behind, but Rylan doesn’t even glance back. His entire focus is on me, as if nothing else exists. And for me, nothing else does.
Moving with the kind of powerful confidence that sends my heart racing, he cuts through the crowd like a force of nature. I hold my breath, knowing I won’t let it go until he’s reached me. The amber flecks in his eyes flare with a heat that threatens to burn to ashes anything that gets in his way as he looks at me like I’m the only one who matters—like I’m thereason he’s here. The look in his eyes leaves absolutely no doubt.
And when he’s finally standing in front of me, all I can do is stare up at him, drinking in his presence.
“Thank you, Mathis. I think I can take it from here,” he says, addressing his friend, but never taking his eyes off me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mathis step away, but I can’t tear my gaze away from Rylan’s to make sure.
One hand behind his back, the other held out for mine, Rylan bows, low and deep, the playful little smirk still on his lips. I gently slip my hand into his and gasp softly as he drops a featherlight kiss to my fingertips before reluctantly letting them go.
“You’re late,disciple,” he says, his voice low and teasing. “I was beginning to think you had decided there was somewhere you preferred to be.”
“Actually,mentor, I was early. You’ve just been too busy to notice me,” I reply, lifting an eyebrow playfully and poking my tongue out at him.
“Maybe it just feels like you’re late,” he counters, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “considering how long I’ve been waiting for you.”
“And how long would that be, my prince?” I ask, playing along, though my heart is beating so fast I’m sure he can hear it.
“Longer than you can possibly imagine, Eirabella,” he murmurs, leaning in to me, his voice dropping to a volume that almost feels confessional, as if he’s imparting his deepest, darkest secrets.
The playful banter, the ease with which we fall into this rhythm feels so natural, so effortless, and yet there’s an underlying crackle of anticipation that makes my pulse quicken.
“Would you do me the absolute honour of dancing withme?” Rylan’s hand is held out again, the offer lingering between us like a promise.
I place my hand in his again, and his grip is warm, firm, as he leads me to the dance floor. The whispers around us grow louder, but I push them aside, focusing only on the man before me.
