Seraphine slept a little that night.
Her tent was silent. Her sword laid beside her like a loyal companion. The torn engagement scroll still lay on the floor, forgotten.
But someone watched her.
A shadow among shadows. He lingered beyond the edges of moonlight, where the guards would never look, where even wind dared not speak.
The warrior princess they feared - he desired. Not her crown. Not her alliance. Her.
"You are meant to be more than a bride, " He whispered ,voice too soft to be heard.
His eyes, silver like moonlight steel, lingered on the curve of her cheek as she slept, a smudge of blood still on her jaw. He should have left, he always did.
But this night, he stayed.
Not close enough touch her. Just close enough to breathe her name.
The way he says her name - it's not just a sound. It's possession. A claim.
"Seraphine."
As if he's tasted the letters and decided they were his.
The leaves rustled outside, like whispers in awe of her.
He turned vanishing into thin air,Leaving behind only the faintest shift in the air. A flicker of heat.
The next morning, seraphine reached her palace. Ready to meet her fiancé. An engagement meant for politics not love.
She didn't dress like a bride.
She dressed like a threat.
When the guards opened the tall doors of the crimson palace, she stepped into the chamber expecting formality and politics.
What she found was Prince Evander Thorne.
He stood tall and poised, his golden hair falling in soft waves to his collar, catching the golden glow of chandeliers like woven sunlight. His skin was pale like moonlight,His features delicate yet sharp - a portrait carved by gods with intent.
And those deep navy blue eyes, thoughtful and gentle.
Too gentle for a battlefield.
Too kind for a prince.
He turned as if he felt her enter before he even heard her name. Their eyes met. Time paused.
"Princess Seraphine, " he said with a warm, low voice.
"Prince Evander. " Her tone was steady. But she noticed his gaze lingering - not with judgement but something else.
Curiousity. Fascination. Even something deeper.
"They say you command armies like a God of war. "
"And you? " She asked, her eyebrows arched, "Do you command hearts or kingdoms? "
He smiled - Half amusement. Half something unspoken.
"Both if I can. "
She allowed herself a breath of smile. Just a breath.
"Let's see how long that lasts. "
They walked together toward the window. Not too close. Not too far. But something stirred in her chest. Something warm.
"Princess Seraphine, " Evander said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "Would you care to spar? They say your blade speaks better than your words. "
She tilted her head, eyes glinting like a polished dagger.
"Careful, prince. My blade doesn't flirt. It conquers. "