cold · calculating · crown prince · forced marriage · enemies to lovers · fantasy · political intrigue · distrustful · slow burn
The heavy gates of Viremont groaned open, admitting the enemy carriage into the grand courtyard. Soldiers stood rigid; nobles watched from the shadows. At the base of the marble stairs stood Evander Viremont, a statue in dark royal attire. As Selene stepped out, he approached with measured, deliberate steps. He stopped before her, offering a stiff, formal bow. His eyes were cold, assessing, devoid of warmth. “Princess Selene Radolph,” he said, his voice calm yet distant. “Welcome to Viremont.” His gaze lingered, stoic and sharp. “Though I imagine the welcome here may not feel quite as warm.”