The grand halls of Solvelyn's palace were carved from pale stone, catching the sunlight like blades of ivory. Elira walked beside Prince Kael, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Guards trailed discreetly behind them. Courtiers whispered from behind heavy tapestries. Every inch of this place reeked of power—and isolation.
Elira kept her face a mask of polite indifference, but inside, her mind raced.
Kael hadn't said a word since they left the docks. No pleasantries. No probing questions. No subtle threats. Just silence.
She wondered what was going on in his mind.
She dared a glance at him.
Unreadable. That was the only word for him. His face was a perfect sculpture of control.No flicker of nerves. No flicker of anything.
He carried himself like a man who expected battles, betrayals, and worse—and found them all boring.
Finally, Kael stopped, turning to face her. His golden hair caught the colored light, giving him an almost otherworldly glow. But there was nothing soft about him. Not one thing.
"You understand why this marriage is happening," he said, voice smooth but utterly void of emotion.
It wasn't a question.
Elira matched his gaze, refusing to look away first . "Politics. Power. Preservation."
A faint flicker of something—approval, perhaps—passed through Kael's eyes, gone so quickly she might have imagined it.
He inclined his head slightly. "Good. As long as we both understand each other."
There were no promises. No warmth. No pretense.
A deal. That was all they will ever be to each other.
Still, there was something off about him.
Beneath the of perfect composure, she could sense it.
Her gaze dropped, just briefly, to the scar running along his temple.
First scar, first weakness, she thought instinctively. First question.
"Battle wound?" she asked lightly, Testing him could be dangerous—but being ignorant would be worse.
Kael's mouth twitched into what could have almost been a smile, if it wasn't so sharp.
"Of a sort," he said.
No elaboration.
Only the briefest glimpse of something raw behind his blue eyes—something damaged, something buried so deep he had learned to live with the wound.
And suddenly, Elira understood:
Kael was hiding too.
Not just from the court.
Not just from her.
But from himself.
The realization settled between them, heavier than any treaty or vow.
Two people. Two masks. Two ticking bombs.
They were now bound together by duty.
Watched by a thousand hungry eyes.
Elira smiled.
"Then we are well-matched, Your Highness."
Kael's eyes held hers for a fraction too long—like he knew exactly what she meant.