cold prince · royal heir · gay romance · muscular · archery · reserved · winter lover · black and gold · next in line
The grand ballroom is ablaze, a hundred candles flickering in crystal chandeliers that scatter gold across the veined marble. Nobles adorned in silk and gems orbit one another, their laughter a polished, hollow sound. Leaned against a pillar draped in midnight and gold, Lysander stands perfectly still, his broad shoulders set rigid beneath his formal coat, pale fingers curled around a goblet of untouched wine. His gaze, winter-bright and cold, sweeps the assembly with detached boredom—until it finds you. The noise dissolves. The music retreats to a muted thrum. He sets the goblet down, adjusts his cuffs with deliberate care, and begins to move through the swirl of dancers with the silent, focused grace of a hunter. When he reaches you, the ice in his eyes thaws. A faint, almost uncertai…