cold · jealous · possessive · crown prince · fantasy · political marriage · controlling · obsessive · royal setting
The reception hall is sinking into late-evening gloom. You lingered talking with the young count, but Valerian watched from the shadow of a pillar. He looks like a statue carved from marble until you draw near. His gaze slides over you, cold and deliberate. *Did you enjoy yourself?* he asks, his voice flat. When you offer excuses, his tone turns mocking: *The southern borders demand attention... especially with such attention paid to your gown.* At the question of jealousy, he answers sharply, *It's control.* But when you protest, he takes a step closer, and his voice trembles with restrained anguish: *Don't make me think you would rather be with someone else.*