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Rosalind took a delicate sip from her own glass, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Not just me, but everyone saw that little scene crystal clear. I must say, I enjoyed it quite well.”

“Glad to be your entertainment for the evening.” My voice was flatter than week-old ale.

We drifted away from the refreshment table, the crowd parting around us like we carried some contagious disease. The whispers followed in our wake, but I’d grown used to them. What was one more scandal to add to my collection?

“Where’s Noah?” I asked, desperate to change the subject. “I would have thought he’d be glued to your side.”

Rosalind’s eyes flashed. “Contrary to what you might believe, I’m fully capable of existing without Noah hovering over me every moment of the day.”

“My apologies. I didn’t realize independent thought was your new fashion accessory.”

Instead of taking offense, she laughed. “I never thought I’d see the day when Prince Anderic would lose his composure over a woman. I used to think he hated you. The cool, collected golden prince, brought to his knees by Lady Ilyana D’Arcane. It’s almost poetic.”

The tips of my ears burned. “He hasn’t fallen for me. That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Rosalind raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Then perhaps you’ve fallen for him?”

The question struck me like a physical blow. I mean, I liked him a lot. I could admit that much. But love? Had I? The way my heart leapt when he entered a room, how I searched for his face in every crowd, the electricity that sparked between us when we touched…

I opened my mouth to deliver a cutting denial, but nothing came out.

We had wandered into a quieter section of the ballroom, the music now a distant melody. Ahead of us stood Anderic, his golden curls catching the light from the crystal chandeliers.

“Your Highness,” a woman called from behind him.

Anderic glanced in the direction of the voice, his face softening as he halted. “Lady Isolde.”

The woman who approached him was stunning in a way that made even Rosalind look ordinary. Her copper-red hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, and her emerald gown complemented her fair complexion perfectly. Her movements were graceful, her smile radiant.

“Lady Isolde Valebrook,” Rosalind whispered beside me.

Isolde Brightmoor now , I mentally corrected. After her marriage. At some point in the past, there were rumors that Anderic was supposed to get engaged to her. I’d heard it once in casual conversation with Mother and had looked her up afterward.

No, I wasn’t obsessed.

They were speaking, but at this distance, I couldn’t make out their words.

“I can’t hear anything,” Rosalind voiced my thought.

Isolde smiled again—a dazzling smile that lit up her entire face. If you put Isolde and me side by side in a room full of people, they would flock to her warmth, while I would be left standing alone like a block of ice on a winter morning.

That was perfectly fine with me. I didn’t want anyone’s attention just—

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I wanted Anderic’s attention. I was jealous, and my jealousy was a full-blown beast with fangs and claws. In my mind, Anderic was already mine.

And I didn’t share.

There it was, the answer to Rosalind’s question. I had truly fallen for Anderic.

And there was no going back for me now.

I looked at them. They were talking to each other with the easy familiarity of old friends.

They looked good together. Anderic—golden sunlight made flesh, with those tousled curls framing his chiseled face and his tailored white suit accentuating the broad shoulders that could carry the weight of a kingdom—and Isolde: porcelain skin that probably never saw a blemish, copper hair cascading down her back like autumn leaves caught in sunset, her emerald gown clinging to curves that seemed created for royal portraits.

And here I was, the bone in the chicken soup, wanting to slap that sweet, delicate smile right off Isolde’s face.

“They make a stunning pair, don’t they?” Rosalind voiced my exact thought, her tone light and casual as if commenting on the weather.

I looked at Rosalind with narrowed eyes. “Whose side are you on, exactly?” I asked, irritation dripping from every syllable.

Rosalind’s lips curled into a surprised smile. “Obviously, I’m on your side.” She tilted her head toward Anderic and Isolde. “The question is, aren’t you going to do anything about that?”

I gritted my teeth, jealousy burning through me like wildfire. My blood roared in my ears, and before I knew what I was doing, I was already walking—or more like storming—toward them, my midnight blue gown billowing around me like storm clouds.

As I neared, both Anderic and Isolde looked at me. Anderic slightly turned, his golden brows drawing together. “Ilyana—”

I didn’t give him a chance to finish. I pulled him down by his collar and went up on my tiptoes—because God help me, the man was built like a tower—and pressed my lips against his.

For a heartbeat, surprise froze him. Then, like ice melting under the summer sun, he yielded.

His lips were warm, softer than I remembered, moving against mine with a hunger that matched my own.

The taste of champagne lingered on his tongue as it swept against mine.

His hands found my waist, strong fingers splaying across the small of my back, drawing me closer until the midnight blue fabric of my gown crushed against his pristine white suit.

The ballroom fell silent around us. The orchestra faltered, notes dying midair. Conversations ceased. Even the clink of glasses stilled. But I didn’t care. Let them stare. Let them whisper. Let them write songs about this moment for all I cared.

All that mattered was Anderic, the way his body curved protectively around mine, the slight tremor in his hands betraying how affected he was.

One of his hands slid up my back to cradle my head, fingers threading through my hair with reverent gentleness even as his mouth claimed mine with unmistakable possession.

When we finally broke apart, my lungs burning for air, I found myself drowning in the blue of his eyes instead. They were darker now, stormy with desire, yet softened somehow.

“You’re mine,” I whispered, my voice pitched only for his ears. “Only mine.”

His lips curved into a smile—not the practiced, princely smile he bestowed on courtiers and diplomats, but something real and raw that transformed his entire face. A smile I’d never seen before.

“Is that a royal decree, Princess?” He murmured, his breath warm against my lips.