Alya's eyes snapped to Alistair in pure, wide-eyed horror. 'Did I just sprint out of the frying pan and land straight in the fire?'
Alistair reached up casually and drew back the hood of his dark cloak, letting it fall away to reveal his face fully.
Tall, broad-shouldered, sharp jawline framed by long dark hair that caught the crimson light of the chamber.
He met the warrior's gaze with calm authority.
"It's fine," he said, voice low and final. He flicked a sidelong glance toward Alya. "She's right here. With me."
The warrior's head jerked up.
For a split second, shock flashed across his face as he registered her presence, then he dropped back into a deep bow.
"Understood, my Lord. I'll inform the others at once."
He rose, bowed again with perfect formality, and retreated through the heavy doors, which closed behind him with a resonant thud.
Alya couldn't tear her eyes away and her jaw had gone slack. 'Oh my God. No wonder this body was obsessed. He's… ridiculously handsome.'
Alistair turned fully toward her, only to find her staring blankly, completely lost in whatever internal spiral she'd fallen into.
He raised a hand and snapped his fingers once, right in front of her face.
Alya blinked rapidly, jolted back to reality. "Huh? Uh…"
Heat flooded her cheeks so she spun away quickly, scowling at nothing in particular, and hurried over to a low ebony table a safe distance away, then sat on it.
She tried not to look, to look at everywhere but him, but when she looked up again, her gaze stuck.
'He's literally the walking definition of a model,' she thought, utterly transfixed. 'Someone as hot as him would be a good asset, make me a lot of money…'
Alistair watched her openly now, curiosity flickering in his green eyes.
He took a step closer to her, then another and lifted a single finger toward her forehead.
The fiery diamond mark ignited once more, glowing against her skin. Her body stiffened instinctively, gaze locking onto his.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
'You're really handsome," she answered without filter, eyes wide and honest. "I was expecting some old guy.'
Alistair tilted his head slightly, brows lifting in faint bewilderment. 'She's… an odd one,' he thought.
With a small wave of his hand, the mark vanished.
Alya blinked and ducked her chin immediately, one hand flying to the back of her skull at the strain.
Alistair pulled a low chair closer to the table and settled into it with casual ease, leaning one elbow on the edge so he could look up at her.
A faint, amused glint danced in his green eyes.
"Didn't you say… you do not want to get married?" He asked.
Alya blinked hard and jerked her gaze away. 'Damn it. Why did I blurt out everything like that?'
She squared her shoulders, forcing herself to meet his eyes again with a raised, defiant eyebrow. "Y-yeah… I did."
"But from what I was told," he continued, reaching past her to lift a small porcelain kettle from a nearby tray, "you damaged your Spirit Haven trying to force your way through my barrier. That left your cultivation in disarray…"
He poured tea into two delicate cups steadily, then held one out to her. His hand remained extended, waiting.
"Why risk it?" he asked quietly.
Alya stared at the cup, then at him, words failing her for a moment. She snatched it quickly, mostly to have something to do with her hands, and looked away. "I was just… being stupid."
Alistair took his own cup, sipped once, then set it back down without comment.
"Is that so?" he murmured, thoughtful. "Well. We're getting married regardless, and that's it."
Alya looked back at him, torn between scowling and resignation. 'He's annoyingly good-looking. If the marriage wasn't such a headache, maybe… But no. I'm trapped. There's no running from this now.'
She let out a sigh and and lifted the cup to her lips. The first sip made her frown deepen.
"Why is this cold?" she asked, staring into the liquid like it had personally offended her. "Tea's supposed to be hot. Or at least warm."
Alistair gave a small nod, unfazed. "It is. But this is my tea. I prefer it cold."
Alya scoffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Annoying."
The faintest smile ghosted across his lips, and he rose smoothly to his feet.
"You told me why you're really here," he said, tone shifting back to quiet command.
Alya shot upright too, eyes widening.
She plastered on an exaggerated look of confusion. "Huh? What did I say?"
Alistair tilted his head, expression turning deadly serious. "Don't make me repeat myself."
Alya swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry. "Well… heh… if you've got it, just hand it over. Give it to me and this whole marriage thing ends. Deal?"
Alistair turned away from her, hands clasping behind his back. His fingers found the silver ring on his right hand and began turning it absently, the familiar motion calming.
"Who said I want the marriage to end?" he asked, voice low.
He pivoted back toward her, eyes locking onto hers.
"It's already been decided. Stamped. Approved. All that remains is the ceremony." He paused, letting the words settle. "We're getting it over with."
From beyond the heavy chamber doors came the clear, resonant voice of a herald echoing through the halls:
"Prince Halwin Valehart of Star Haven and his escorts have arrived!!"
The words sliced through the quiet like a blade.
Alistair's jaw tightened instantly, the faint amusement in his green eyes vanishing in an instant.
Alya glanced toward the doors, then back at him.
She caught the shift in his expression, the sudden tension in his shoulders, the way his posture went from relaxed to coiled.
'That name hit a nerve,' she thought, pulse quickening again. 'Hard.'