The morning after the gala, the palace was unusually quiet.
Sunlight spilled into my chambers, but I felt no warmth. Only the echo of last night's tension lingered in the air.
Sir Alaric had left shortly after escorting me safely, but the memory of his steady gaze and subtle concern remained.
He's loyal… but why does my heart skip when he looks at me like that?
Before I could dwell on it further, a summons arrived.
The wax seal bore the imperial insignia—an invitation to a private audience with the Crown Prince.
He called me… alone.
My chest tightened. Do not falter, Seraphina. Do not betray your heart.
The Confrontation
The audience chamber was vast, the high ceilings decorated with frescoes depicting past emperors.
He was already there, seated, calm, but eyes sharp—silver like a blade reflecting the morning light.
"Lady Seraphina," he said, voice low, controlled, yet tinged with something… dangerous.
I bowed carefully. "Your Highness."
He rose slowly, closing the distance between us.
And in that moment, I felt it—the undeniable heat of his attention. Not admiration, not mere curiosity, but something far more possessive.
"You were charming last night," he said, tone deceptively casual.
My heart skipped.
I refused to meet his eyes.
"And yet," he continued, "I noticed you talking to Sir Alaric longer than necessary."
My breath caught.
He didn't accuse—he observed, subtly, intensely.
"I merely… discussed court matters," I said, keeping my voice level.
He stepped closer, so close that I could feel the warmth of his presence.
"Court matters?" he whispered, voice dangerously low. "Or matters of the heart?"
The First Glimpse of Jealousy
I froze.
Did he… just…
"Yes," I said carefully, "I am aware of my duties as a noblewoman."
A flicker of something—anger, protectiveness, something dark—passed over his expression.
"You are aware… but do you desire anyone else?"
Do not answer.
I held my tongue.
But the way his eyes narrowed… it was as if he could see the truth in my every thought.
"I… do not concern myself with idle feelings," I murmured.
He took a step closer, dangerously close.
"Do not lie to me," he said softly, yet each word hit like steel.
I could feel the tension crackling in the air, suffocating and intoxicating at once.
He's jealous.
Jealous?
I dared to glance up. His silver eyes were fixed on me with an intensity I had never felt before.
Lord Veyron's Interference
Before I could respond, the door slammed open.
Lord Veyron entered with a smile sharp as a dagger.
"Ah, Lady Seraphina. And… the Crown Prince," he said, tone casual but laced with venom. "Such a private meeting, hmm? I hope I'm not interrupting anything delicate."
The Crown Prince turned slowly, eyes cold.
"My patience for your games is over, Veyron."
The nobleman's smirk faltered. For the first time, he seemed cautious.
"You are bold, Your Highness," he said smoothly. "But boldness can be dangerous."
My pulse raced. I needed to act.
"I… assure you, Lord Veyron, nothing here concerns you," I said, standing tall despite the fear curling in my stomach.
He chuckled softly, eyes glinting.
"We shall see, Lady Seraphina. We shall see."
Sir Alaric Arrives
A sudden knock.
Sir Alaric entered, bowing sharply. "Forgive the intrusion, Your Highness, Lady Seraphina, but there is urgent news from the council."
His presence grounded me.
The Crown Prince's gaze flicked to him—sharp, calculating.
And yet… there was a flicker of relief in his eyes.
Alaric will help me survive this…
Pensées Profondes
Every glance, every word, every subtle movement… is a battle.
The Crown Prince is jealous—protective, possessive, alive in a way I have never known.
Veyron's interference is dangerous, but predictable.
Alaric is loyal… maybe too loyal. Can I trust him completely?
I must navigate love, jealousy, politics, and betrayal… and survive.
No one writes my fate this time. Not him. Not Veyron. Not even the author of the story.
Cliffhanger
The Crown Prince stepped closer to me, so near that I could feel his breath against my cheek.
"You belong to me, Seraphina," he whispered.
"Not the story. Not anyone else. Only me."
And before I could answer…
Lord Veyron's hand shot toward the sealed letter on the table—a letter that could ruin everything.
The next move will determine who controls fate—his, mine, or Veyron's…
End of Chapter 4