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T he violins soared, their lilting notes threading through the ballroom as Sera twirled under the Earl of Linsey’s guiding hand. But the music, the laughter, even the rhythmic steps of the cotillion seemed distant. It all faded to a dull hum, overtaken by the pounding of her pulse.

Alex.

He was here.

Her mind stumbled over the realization as her heart lodged itself in her throat.

The moment their eyes met across the sea of glittering dresses, she knew.

Even if he no longer looked like her carefree Alex, the man whose laughter had filled the cliffs of Cornwall, she knew.

There was no mistaking him, no hope of denial.

And yet, her head swam with questions that raced too fast for answers.

What was he doing here? How had he come to stand in this space, polished and stiff, so far from the world they’d shared?

Did he know? Did he know she’d been promised to another?

Had he come to find her? Or perhaps he wouldn’t want her anymore?

Her knees almost gave in, but the earl’s firm hold kept her upright, guiding her through the movements of the dance with ease. She clung to the rhythm mechanically, the steps ingrained in her muscle memory. But tonight, every figure, every turn, felt as though she were wading through mud.

“Your attention is waning,” the earl said lightly, his sharp eyes catching her fleeting glances. “You’re hiding something.”

Her laugh was empty, brittle. “Am I?”

“You’ve glanced toward the same man half a dozen times,” he teased as he turned her. “Who keeps your attention so engaged, Miss Lyndon?”

Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. She couldn’t look away, though every instinct screamed at her to do so. Alex hadn’t taken his eyes off her either, his gaze hauntingly steady, as though he were searching her soul.

Her Alex was here.

How could he be though? This was not a place he could just attend unless…

“Who is he?” she managed to say, her words breathy, uneven, betraying her. She motioned toward Alex, though it nearly killed her to say so.

Thomas tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly as he glanced in the direction she indicated. “Who? Him? Surely you know. That’s Prince Alexander von Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen.”

Sera almost tripped, her foot faltering mid-step. “The prince?” Her voice was strangled, faint. The world tilted precariously.

Thomas steadied her, his hand firm at her waist. “Yes, the prince you’ve been promised to marry. Why? Did you not realize?” He spoke with faint puzzlement, studying her with a concern she lacked the strength to address.

Promised. To marry.

That night in Cornwall seemed so far away and so terribly long ago. And the distance between her and Alex was now a cleft as steep as Cornwall’s cliffs.

The words thundered through her mind, louder than the violins, louder than the excitement of the attendees tonight.

Her Alex. Her Alex—the man who had stolen her heart beneath the summer sun, who had made her feel more alive in days than she had in years—was the prince. The prince. The very man she was bound to marry by her family’s decree.

The man she’d been trying to tear herself away from.

No.

“It can’t be,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure if the words were for Thomas or herself.

Thomas’s concern deepened. “Are you unwell?”

That was an understatement. Her entire world was unraveling before her eyes, yet she couldn’t bring herself to look away from the man who had lied to her—or had he? What had Alex known? How much of their shared days had been truth, and how much a carefully constructed facade?

Had this all been a test? Did he know who she was all along and—Sera clasped her chest with her hands—did she fail the test because she showed the prince that she gave her heart too easily to a sailor boy she didn’t know?

Not only her heart but… Sera nearly cast up when she considered what she’d done and how stupidly na?ve she’d been.

Her breath quickened, and beads of pearls gathered on the palm of her hands. Every moment between them played back in her mind, now tainted with new meaning. His accent, his guarded words, the documents she’d glimpsed in his bag. She should have known. She should have seen.

A sharp, humorless laugh broke from her lips before she could stop it, drawing a startled glance from Thomas. She recovered quickly, masking her wild thoughts with a brittle smile. “Forgive me, my lord. I seem to have much on my mind.” And no good mind of my own, I suppose.

The thought struck her like a dagger. She felt the sting of it bloom in her chest, spreading with every labored beat of her heart.

How had she been so foolish? How could she pride herself on cleverness and independence, yet stumble so blindly into this tangled mess?

The answer was painfully clear—she had allowed herself to dream.

Her pulse thrummed in her ears as her gaze slid away from Thomas, who smiled kindly, oblivious to the storm within her. She could feel the weight of his steady presence, so polite, so composed, in stark contrast to her unraveling thoughts. A lump rose in her throat, bitter and sharp.

If anyone could see inside her now, they would only find a chasm of self-disappointment. She had thought herself capable of bending the rules, of grasping some elusive, gilded thread of happiness. But all she had done was weave confusion and heartache into an already knotted web.

Her hands trembled subtly.

For the first time in all the carefully choreographed dances of her life, she was utterly out of step—with herself, with her future, with him. She blinked against the heat rising behind her eyes, willing herself not to falter now, not here.

But even as the music swirled around her, lifting the crowd on its joyous tide, she felt herself sinking under the weight of her own choices. What freedom she had thought to claim now felt like nothing more than folly, leaving her most disappointed in the one place she had relied on—herself.

“I’d say,” the earl mused, though his smile was warm, gracious. “Perhaps you need air.”

What she needed was clarity. Answers. She needed Alex, alone, without the weight of titles, expectations, and family obligations suffocating them both. But more than anything, she needed to know why.

Why hadn’t he told her who he was? Why had she allowed herself to fall for him so completely, when all along, fate had already dictated their paths?

Her heart twisted painfully as she cast one last glance at Alex.

He hadn’t moved, still watching her, unmoving, unflinching.

No, she couldn’t wait.

She’d wanted to confront the prince and longed to speak to Alex—here was her chance. Everything was different than she’d dreamed—or was this a nightmare after all? Could she wake up? She turned her attention back to the earl, forcing her lips into a smile she didn’t feel.

“I won’t keep you much longer.” She was neither a pawn nor the prize of a business deal. And she was especially not a na?ve girl to be seduced at the beach and then… well, she was. Fine! But clarity was necessary now, so she had to confront him.

Alone.

Everything would become clear then. But then, could it be any clearer? They had both chosen to remain mysterious, and this was the result. Should she just head home and lock herself in her room?

Perhaps that would be for the best.

*

The buzzing ballroom faded into a muddled backdrop as Alex’s gaze locked on her.

Sera.

Even amid the glittering crowd, she stood out, her form poised yet achingly familiar. His chest tightened with the blow of recognition. She moved with a grace different from what he remembered—more polished, more precise.

But it was her.

He knew it as surely as the rapid pounding of his heart. But why was she here, at this ball, dancing with that man?

“Alex.” Stan’s voice cut through his thoughts, steady and brusque. “Mr. Lyndon is ready to speak with you now. I passed your request on to him.”

Alex barely turned his head, his attention still fixed on the dancers as they shifted positions. “What?” he muttered absently. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out his brother’s words.

Stan exhaled sharply beside him. “Mr. Lyndon, the man you’ve spent a lifetime preparing to meet? He’s waiting. Do try to act like you weren’t just swallowed whole by a memory.”

“Memory?” He snapped his gaze at Stan but darted it back just as quickly, searching the crowded ballroom for her again.

Panic prickled at the back of his neck as he realized she was no longer where she’d been seconds ago, dancing with the Earl of Linsey.

His stomach churned. “Stan,” he said, his voice low, “did you see her?”

Stan tilted his head, frowning. “See who?”

“The woman with Linsey. Dressed in pale-blue and pearls. Did you see her?”

Stan sighed, his patience clearly thinning. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.” He scanned the dancers with vague interest before his lips pressed into a flat line. “No sign of her now. Why?”

Alex clenched his fists at his sides, forcing himself to take two measured breaths.

This wasn’t the time. It couldn’t be. Sera appearing here, in this room, was the last thing he should be thinking about with everything hanging in the balance.

But his mind refused to grasp anything else. “No reason,” he lied, voice clipped.

“Your Royal Highness.” The new voice was smooth but carried a weight Alex immediately recognized.

Turning, he found himself facing an older man—average height, slightly stocky, and impeccably dressed.

The man’s presence radiated wealth, even with his friendly smile.

“What a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance in person.”

Stan stepped in smoothly. “Mr. Lyndon, may I present Prince Alexander.”