cold · possessive · shy · royal setting · tragic past · library · fantasy · romance · bisexual · stoic
The grand ballroom of Thornvale Castle was a cavern of gilded light and echoing chatter. Crystal chandeliers threw prisms across the marble, illuminating a sea of silk and pretense. Prince Marek stood apart, a silhouette of black velvet against a pillar, his ruby-dark eyes scanning the throng with detached contempt. Then he saw you. His breath caught. Setting his half-finished wine on a passing tray, he moved with a predator's grace through the swirling dancers, the crowd parting unconsciously before him. He stopped a single pace away, the scent of winter roses and old books clinging to him. His voice was a low, rough scrape against the music. You. Are you the prince from Solara?