Sunlight streamed through the towering stained-glass windows of the royal dining hall, scattering colors across the polished floors and the long obsidian table. Prince Damien sat stiffly at the far end, his jaw tight, eyes fixed on the untouched plate before him. To his right, King Lucian wore a serene expression, his goblet raised in casual elegance. To his left, Lady Virelia of the North Isles, adorned in a sea-blue gown embroidered with silver vines, smiled like she already owned the throne.
"You must try the saffron stew," she said lightly, tilting her head toward Damien. "The spice is delicate, just like the traditions of your beautiful kingdom."
Damien gave a courteous nod, pushing his spoon through the golden broth without tasting it. Across the hall, Alec stood near the pillars, dressed in his military uniform. His gaze flicked between Damien and Virelia, a silent storm behind his composed face.
"Lady Virelia," King Lucian said, voice booming in the high-ceilinged space, "comes from strong bloodlines. Her uncle advises the High Council of Elders in the Isles."
"I'm honored to be considered, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice like a melody laced with ambition. "And more honored to sit beside your son."
Damien forced a smile. "Lady Virelia, your homeland must miss you."
"I go where duty calls," she said, eyes locking onto his. "And if duty brings me to a future beside a prince, so be it."
Alec looked away.
Caspian entered late, quietly bowing before sliding into the seat beside Damien. He glanced at the dynamics unfolding, then whispered, "Brace yourself. She's sharper than she looks."
Damien leaned slightly toward him. "I noticed."
As breakfast dwindled, King Lucian stood. "I'll leave you both to get better acquainted. Walk the gardens, speak your hearts. Let the kingdom see harmony."
Damien stood reluctantly. "As you command, Father."
Lady Virelia rose gracefully, her arm already outstretched for Damien's to take. He hesitated, then placed his hand beneath hers, leading her toward the grand doors. Alec remained behind, a statue of restraint.
The royal gardens were alive with bloom and breeze. The scent of jasmine and rose drifted through the air. Butterflies flitted between blossoms, unaware of the quiet battle playing out between Damien and his companion.
"The palace grounds are exquisite," Virelia said, trailing her fingers along a lavender bush. "But I wonder, are you happy here, Prince Damien? Or do these walls trap you like a golden cage?"
Damien didn't answer immediately. His eyes lingered on the far hedges, where a black-cloaked figure , Alec watched discreetly.
"I was born within these walls," he said. "I've learned to live with their weight."
"That doesn't sound like joy."
"I wasn't taught to chase joy."
She turned to him, stepping closer. "Then perhaps I can teach you."
He gave a tight smile. "You assume I'm eager to be taught."
Her fingers brushed his arm. "I only assume you deserve to be known."
The moment lingered. Damien pulled back slightly.
Virelia's smile remained, but her eyes sharpened. "Some say princes hide their true desires for fear of judgment."
"And others say those who prod too much end up disappointed," Damien replied.
Their gaze held for a beat too long. Then Virelia turned, strolling toward the central fountain. "You know, I'm not here to trap you. I'm here to understand you."
Damien followed at a slower pace. "Let's hope that's all."
From behind the hedges, Alec watched, every muscle tense. He didn't miss the subtle closeness of her stance, the veiled challenges in her voice. He recognized the type beautiful, dangerous, and determined.
When Damien returned alone, hours later, Alec met him outside the training courtyard.
"She's clever," Damien muttered.
"Too clever," Alec said. "And bold. She nearly cornered you twice."
Damien sighed. "She'll make a powerful queen."
Alec's jaw clenched. "That what you want? Power by your side or someone who sees you for you?"
Damien turned, fire in his voice. "You think I want any of this? I'm dancing in a web someone else spun!"
Alec softened, stepping closer. "Then stop pretending it doesn't cut you."
But before Damien could respond, a servant rushed down the corridor. "Your Highness, Lady Virelia has lost her way near the royal wing. She claims she was looking for the study."
Damien stiffened. "The royal wing? At this hour?"
Alec's expression darkened. "I'll handle it."
Ten minutes later, Alec found her near Damien's door, hands clasped, lips prepared with an excuse.
"Commander," she said with a smile. "I must've taken a wrong turn. These halls are... confusing."
"They are not for wandering," Alec said flatly. "Especially not near the prince's quarters."
She tilted her head. "Are you always this protective?"
He stepped forward, voice low. "I know what you're doing. And I'll be watching."
Her smile faltered, just slightly. "I'm merely a guest."
"Then act like one."
That night, as the moon returned to cast its silver light across Damien's chamber, he paced near the window, the breeze cold against his skin. The door creaked. He turned but it wasn't Virelia.
A note lay on the floor, slid beneath the door's edge.
He picked it up slowly, eyes scanning the neat ink.
"One of them is sent to destroy you."
His blood ran cold...He turned to the shadows , but no one was there.
Just silence, and the weight of a threat now lingering in every smile.
The royal courtyard was unusually quiet that afternoon. The skies were heavy with gray clouds, but no rain had fallen yet. Damien stood on the balcony of the east wing, watching the horizon with arms folded, the taste of Virelia's challenge still sharp in his mouth.
She was clever. Too clever.
"She wants a reaction," Alec had warned him. "Don't give her one. That's what manipulators feed on."
But it was hard not to react when Virelia's presence itself was a weapon.
"She asked me what kind of silk I preferred before offering me one that matches your eyes," Damien had said to Alec earlier that day in a private corridor.
Alec hadn't laughed. He'd only said, "She's not interested in silk."
Now, as the shadows lengthened, a soft knock sounded behind him. He turned, expecting a servant. Instead, Caspian entered, looking unusually guarded.
"She's planning something," Caspian said immediately.
Damien arched an eyebrow. "You mean Virelia?"
"She's already sent word to her father. Not a formal letter a secret raven. My informant caught it before it flew. She's reporting everything, even your expressions."
Damien exhaled sharply. "She's more than a contender. She's a spy."
"Exactly." Caspian crossed his arms. "This isn't about marriage. It's a political move. If she wins your hand, her father gains influence over the throne."
"And what happens if I refuse to pick anyone?"
"You'll trigger a war of succession. Half the council wants to replace you with one of our cousin."
You know I can't be king" and I don't want to be king "
Damien's jaw clenched. "Let them try."
Caspian lowered his voice. "Don't be reckless, Damien. Play the game smart."
Just then, a soft voice interrupted them. "Am I interrupting something important?"
Virelia stood at the balcony entrance, draped in a storm-blue gown that shimmered like ocean light. Her hair was braided with silver threads, and her eyes gleamed with mischief.
Caspian gave a short bow and retreated silently, though not without a tense glance.
Damien remained still. "You're early for our evening stroll."
"I thought I'd surprise you." She stepped closer, her voice low. "I like watching the way you react when I catch you off guard."
"I don't react," Damien said coolly.
"Mm. Maybe not outwardly. But your eyes… they betray you."
She leaned against the stone rail beside him, close but not touching. "Tell me, Your Highness. Do you enjoy being a prince, or is it all just duty and show?"
"I don't think that's your concern."
"Oh, but it is," she said softly. "If I'm to be your queen, I need to know the man I'll be shaping a kingdom with."
Damien didn't respond. The silence stretched long between them.
Then she smiled, turning to face him fully. "You're different than the stories. They say you're wild. Impulsive. But I see someone tightly wound."
She moved closer, her breath brushing his jaw. "What are you hiding, Damien?"
Damien stepped back. "I think you've had enough questions for one evening."
Virelia tilted her head, unbothered. "Of course. But tomorrow, I want to see your swordplay. I've arranged a private sparring session in the royal arena. I want to see how well you handle a blade."
Damien's eyes narrowed. "Is that supposed to be a threat or flirtation?"
"Both," she whispered before turning and walking away, her laughter trailing behind her.
That night, Alec stood on the rooftop of the western tower, watching her retreat through the gardens below. He didn't flinch when Damien approached behind him.
"I saw her leaving your wing," Alec said, voice low.
"She's playing a game," Damien replied."So are you."
Damien didn't deny it. Instead, he stepped beside Alec, staring out into the dark. "She asked me what I'm hiding."
Alec scoffed. "You didn't tell her it's me, did you?"
Damien gave him a sharp look. "I'm not reckless."
"You're angry," Alec said, glancing at him. "And when you're angry, you make mistakes."
Damien turned toward him. "I didn't make a mistake when I chose you."
The words hung between them. Heavy. Undeniable.
Then Damien added, "But I might be forced to choose someone else."
Alec's fists clenched, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned and walked away, leaving Damien alone on the rooftop.
By morning, the arena was prepared. The sands were swept clean, and the sun hung low behind the marble columns. Virelia stood at the center, already in armor sleek and form-fitting, silver with sapphire trim.
Damien arrived dressed in black leather, a sword strapped to his back.
"You kept your promise," she said with a smirk.
"I said I'd spar. I didn't say I'd go easy."
"I would be disappointed if you did."
The fight began with measured strikes, testing movements. Virelia was skilled surprisingly so. She fought like someone trained not just in form, but in war.
Their blades clashed in a burst of sparks. Damien ducked low, sweeping her leg, but she flipped backward, landing gracefully. The spectators above nobles, guards, and advisors watched with bated breath.
"You're holding back," she said, circling.
"You're not worth my full strength."
She lunged, nearly slicing his shoulder. "Then make me worth it."
Damien's patience snapped. He drove forward, parrying hard, forcing her back. The match became fierce, brutal, beautiful.
At last, he disarmed her, her blade flying from her hand and landing near the sand wall...but she didn't yield.
Instead, she stepped close, her breath ragged. "Well fought."
Damien lowered his sword. "You're dangerous."
"So are you."
Then she smiled. "I like dangerous."
From above, the king watched silently… and beside him, the hooded figure of the Watcher leaned into the shadows, eyes fixed on the prince.
The game had begun...but so had the real hunt.