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‘She’s too tall,’ Alina muttered and folded her arms, glaring at the wyverian princess as though she could shrink her with sheer willpower alone.

Receiving no reply, she turned towards her brother, expecting him to at least acknowledge her grievances.

But when her gaze landed on Ash, her breath caught.

His golden eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, were fixed upon the princess— entranced , as if the very air between them had shifted, bending to her presence.

Alina’s irritation flared. ‘She’s practically walking barefoot,’ she added through gritted teeth, hoping the absurdity of the statement would snap him from his daze.

Still, no response.

Then, without a word, Ash stepped forward.

Down the dais.

Away from her.

And straight towards the wyverian princess.

…

Ash still wasn’t entirely sure what had compelled him to move.

His legs carried him forward as if drawn by some unseen force, his focus narrowing on the girl before him.

The court fell into hushed silence at his sudden movement, but Ash paid them no mind.

His attention was fixed solely on the wyverian princess.

She had noticed his approach. He could see the subtle shift in her stance, the way her fingers twitched towards the hidden blade beneath her gown. She wasn’t entirely sure of his intentions.

Ash grinned.

He stopped inches from her and extended his hand.

Those purple eyes drifted downward, wary and calculating as they lingered on his open palm.

‘You’re meant to take it.’ His voice was somehow steady, though his pulse had quickened.

The world around them faded. The murmuring court, the grand hall, the music—it all fell away, leaving only the two of them standing in the silence.

Ash fought the urge to glance at her body, at the way the fabric of her dress clung to her form, revealing far more than any drakonian noblewoman would dare to expose.

But it wasn’t a gentlemanly thing to do.

So instead, he forced his gaze to remain on her face.

When she placed her hand in his, the contrast was startling. Her skin was cold, ice against the warmth of his own. She flinched, clearly unprepared for the heat that radiated from him. That small reaction amused him.

Slowly, he led her to the centre of the room.

The music started. Too soon. It was not yet time.

Tradition dictated that guests first approach the king and queen before the dancing began.

But Ash had not been thinking of customs when he reached for her—had not thought of anything at all.

Something had compelled him, a force unseen, an impulse that had driven him to hold her, to touch her.

His free hand rested on her waist.

Her bare waist.

Her eyes flashed with warning. Do anything improper, and I will have your throat slit. He had no doubt she meant it. Yet the moment they began to move, she followed his lead with effortless grace. It was as though she had danced to this very song a thousand times before.

‘I’m surprised women are allowed to dance,’ she said as they swayed through the room, her voice laced with something unreadable. ‘Considering they are not allowed to fight.’

Ash wanted to respond. Truly, he did. But the words tangled in his throat, caught on the fear that he might stutter.

What would she think of him then? She would find out eventually—if they were to be married, there was no hiding it forever.

Then again, many noble marriages survived on silence, on cold dinners where little more than pleasantries were exchanged.

Perhaps theirs would be the same.

Perhaps he would spend the rest of his life in quiet submission, never daring to speak in her presence.

‘I would like to see the grounds,’ she continued, as though speaking to herself. ‘My wyverns will be left loose, and I must ensure they have enough hunting ground. They are not accustomed to remaining in one place for too long. They are wild creatures.’

Like you, Ash thought.

‘Are you incapable of speaking, or do you remain silent just to annoy me?’

Ash couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips. He swallowed a chuckle.

The princess abruptly pulled away. Her eyes burnt with something close to hatred.

The music continued, but all around them, the court watched with bated breath.

Some, sensing the tension, stepped forward onto the dance floor in an attempt to ease the prince’s embarrassment.

But Ash and the princess remained frozen in place, locked in a silent battle of wills.

‘We are to be married in a week,’ Mal said coldly, her voice sharp as steel. ‘You may not like it. I certainly do not. But it is for the benefit of our kingdoms. The least you could do is answer my questions, prince.’

‘Demands,’ Ash corrected.

Her brows furrowed. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You do not ask questions.’Ash forced himself to ignore the dozens of eyes fixed upon them. ‘You make demands.’

Her expression darkened with fury.

For a moment, he thought she might slap him. Instead, she drew a sharp breath, exhaled through her nose, and muttered, ‘Good night, Fire Prince.’ Then she turned on her heel, her long black hair whipping against his face as she strode away.

Ash stood there, watching as his future bride disappeared into the parting crowd.

And he couldn’t help but smile.