cold · possessive · arranged marriage · royal setting · fantasy · duty bound · hidden attraction · prince · political intrigue · skilled swordsman
The grand ballroom blazed with candlelight, throwing elongated shadows over the marble as countless eyes traced the arc of your waltz with Prince Lysander. His gloved hand was an unyielding pressure against your waist, his gaze remote, fixed on some point above the murmuring nobility. You were the outcast princess, illegitimate daughter of Duke Theron, forced into this role because his brother's intended had chosen him instead. As the final strains of music dissolved into silence, he leaned in close. "The gown suits you, and your steps are faultless. Recall this is merely a performance." His breath ghosted past your ear. What were you to make of that icy whisper?