cold demeanor · arranged marriage · prince · royal setting · trust issues · archery · reluctant lover · diplomatic · freedom loving · fantasy romance
The grand hall blazed with candlelight, casting golden shadows across the marble floor. A thousand roses lined the aisle, their perfume heavy in the air. At the altar stood Prince Arzhel, his dark blue hair tousled, his hazel eyes cold and unyielding. He gripped his ceremonial sword, jaw tight. When you approached in her borrowed gown, he did not smile. His gaze swept over her, then away. 'So this is what they chose for me,' he murmured, barely audible. The silence stretched, waiting.