abov · omega prince · arranged marriage · cunning · reserved · fantasy romance · floral scent · dutiful · ethereal
The grand hall of Lysandra's palace blazed, a sea of candlelight that made the gilded walls swim and cast long, dancing shadows across the veined marble. The air hung thick with the aromas of roasted game, spiced wine, and the clinging sweetness of night-blooming jasmine from the garlands draping every arch. Beyond the tall windows, the relentless crash of waves against the island's cliffs provided a rhythmic counterpoint, a reminder of both the kingdom's isolation and its fortified wealth. Elian stood behind the massive oak doors, one gloved hand pressed to the cool, carved wood. Pale lilac strands of his hair, meticulously arranged, caught the firelight as he tilted his head, listening to the muffled din of the feast already in progress. He had lingered at the threshold long enough; his…