Kaelen dropped everything.
The scroll he had been reading slipped from his fingers, landing silently on the carpet. His thoughts refused to return to the maps, to the reports, to anything except her.
Those eyes.
Not just violet—alive.
Defiant and Trembling.
A color that didn't exist in his world until she brought it into his room like an accidental spell.
He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand across his jaw, as if the pressure could erase the feeling she left behind. It didn't.
The memory clung to him—the red of her dress, the tightness in her breath, the way she had looked back only once before slipping out.
Who is she? Why is she affecting me like this?
Kaelen moved before understanding his own decision. He crossed the room in long, controlled strides, the tension in his body coiling with each step.
He grabbed the nearest shirt—dark, embroidered subtly with silver—and pulled it on, the fabric settling against his scarred skin. His trousers followed, tailored and sharp.
Then he fastened the clasp of his cape, the heavy fabric falling over his shoulders, transforming him back into what the world expected:
A prince.
A warrior.
A danger wrapped in silk and authority.
But under the polished exterior, something unruly clawed its way upward.
He stepped into the corridor.
And stopped.
Her scent was still here—just a trace, but unmistakable. Warm. Roses. Human.
Tinged with fear and stubbornness and something that made his chest tighten unexpectedly.
Aurelia…
He didn't know her name, but the thought pressed against him like a whisper he shouldn't hear.
He followed the faint trail with quiet, lethal precision, moving through the dim halls like a shadow drawn by instinct.
------------------------
Aurelia, meanwhile, was slowly drowning in the palace's labyrinth.
The deeper she walked, the less familiar the world became. Corridors stretched endlessly, cold marble turning into darker stone, the warm hum of the ballroom fading until even the echo of music was gone.
The silence was too real.
She turned sharply, trying to recognize anything—a pillar, a statue, a window—but everything felt identical, as if the palace had swallowed her whole.
Two guards stood at the far end of a hallway, their armor glinting subtly under the flickering torchlight. But she didn't approach them. There was something about their posture—rigid, unnervingly still, like statues carved from shadow—that halted her steps.
No.
Asking them was not an option.
She wouldn't entertain their questions, the weight of their stares, or the whispers that could follow.
She picked up her pace.
Her breath quickened, her red dress sliding smoothly against the stone with each confident stride. She adjusted the fabric at her ribs, feeling the constricting corset and the vibrant energy of the night all around her.
She wasn't lost in her journey.
She simply needed to return to the ball.
Her heart raced in sync with her determination.
What she didn't notice—
Was that someone was following her.
Someone whose footsteps were eerily silent.
Someone who couldn't stop thinking about her mesmerizing violet eyes.
Someone she had unknowingly stirred.
"Are you lost?"
Kaelen's voice cut through the silence like a cold blade.
Aurelia turned sharply.
He stood a few steps behind her—no longer half-dressed and shadowed by firelight, but fully clothed in midnight-black trousers and a fitted, high-collared shirt that framed the sharp cut of his shoulders.
A dark cape draped over him, brushing the floor as he moved. He looked every inch the royalty he was trying not to be.
Her breath caught.
It was the same man she had accidentally intruded upon. Only now he seemed… composed. Untouchable. Sharply defined like a statue carved from storm clouds.
"I'm not lost," she said first, chin lifting on instinct.
But then she looked down the splitting corridors—identical walls, identical torches, endless turns swallowing into darkness—and her confidence cracked.
"Yes," she admitted quietly. "I'm trying to get back to the ball."
Kaelen didn't comment.
He stepped closer instead, his cape shifting behind him, the faint scent of steel and cold wind trailing after him. He extended a hand—not politely, not gently, but with a restrained firmness, as if touching her required effort.
"I'll take you."
Aurelia hesitated, her fingers hovering.
His hand didn't waver.
She placed hers in his.
The temperature difference jolted her—his palm cold, steady, startling.
Kaelen closed his hand around hers just enough to guide her, not enough to comfort. His stride was controlled, measured, his cape sweeping behind him with each step as he led her through the labyrinth of hallways.
He isn't cruel, why doesn't he act like the others, she thought, watching the clean precision of his movements.
Or maybe he is—but not in the way she expected.
He didn't look at her again.
But he didn't let go.
As he promised, Kaelen led her back toward the hall.
His steps were long, unhurried, confident. Aurelia walked beside him, trying not to stare—but failing.
His cape brushed the floor in a soft sweep of shadow. His elegant shirt clung to the shape of his shoulders, and every few steps the torches along the wall lit his hair in bright flares of copper.
She swallowed.
Why did he make me feel… steady?
Calm?
Why isn't he rude like the others?
She didn't understand it.
She didn't want to.
The closer they got to the ballroom, the clearer the music became—violins climbing, horns echoing, the swell of a court expecting perfection from everyone who stepped inside.
Aurelia's pulse quickened. The storm she had escaped returned instantly: Tenebrarum dancing with Camilla, the nobles whispering, the humiliating sting of being called worthless.
Kaelen stopped at the archway.
"We're here," he said quietly.
Aurelia looked up at him. The torches cast gold over his cheekbones. His ocean-bright eyes lowered to meet hers, and for a moment she forgot about everything—the insults, the fear, Tenebrarum, Camilla.
"Thank you… really," she said.
She meant it more than she expected.
His gaze held her like a hand around her wrist—steady, firm, impossible to slip away from.
"You're welcome," he said, softer than before.
Inside the hall, Tenebrarum still danced with Camilla. His hand on the princess's waist. His expression unreadable. His indifference toward Aurelia colder than the marble floors.
Aurelia's jaw tightened.
Fine. If he wouldn't look, I would make him.
She turned back to Kaelen, heart thundering.
"Perhaps…" she began, nearly choking on the boldness rising inside her, "we may dance?"
Kaelen blinked.
For the first time since she had met him, his entire expression transformed. Slowly. Wonderingly. His lips curved into a smile—not a polite smile or a princely one, but something real, something genuinely surprised.
It was as if no one had ever asked him that before.
Aurelia felt the heat rise in her neck because his smile was devastating. It softened him, brightened him, and made him appear almost boyish yet strikingly handsome.
"You want to dance with me?" he asked, his voice low.
She nodded, "Yes."
----------------------------
To be continued...