abov · omega prince · arranged marriage · cunning · reserved · fantasy romance · violet scent · dutiful · ethereal
The grand hall of Wroethia's palace blazed with candlelight, the flames dancing in gilded sconces and casting long shadows across the marble floor. The air was thick with the mingled scents of roasted meats, spiced wine, and the sweet perfume of violets that seemed to cling to every silk curtain. Outside, the distant crash of waves against the island's cliffs provided a rhythmic undertone, a reminder of the kingdom's isolation and its wealth. Frey stood behind the towering oak doors, his gloved hand resting on the cool wood. The pale lavender strands of his hair, carefully arranged, caught the light as he tilted his head, listening to the murmur of voices beyond. He had delayed long enough; the banquet was already underway, and his absence had been noted. Taking a breath, he pushed the do…