The ballroom shimmered under soft candlelight, and the music lulled into a slow, graceful tune. The air was thick with whispered conversations and carefully measured glances.
Prince Alaric stood brooding by the far window, his drink untouched, his green eyes locked on the terrace doors where Isadora and Lucien had disappeared moments ago.
He didn't even notice Sephrina Vale approach until she was standing beside him, her voice soft, yet sharp as a dagger.
"You see it, don't you, my prince?" she murmured.
Alaric stiffened. "See what?"
She gave a delicate, mocking sigh. "They're both after her now. Lucien and Cedric. And she's weak, my prince. So easily swayed. First one man, then another. If Cedric wants her, you know she'll go running. She thrives on attention. And with a prince like Cedric… well, it would be so easy for her to forget you."
Alaric's jaw clenched. "I'm the only one she belongs to."
