Kaelen
Kaelen / He wants you
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The hall buzzes with polite murmurs. Your father beams proudly beside your younger sister, perfect and bratty in her golden gown, high-pitched laughter carrying across the room.
The prince enters. Tall, poised, expression unreadable. Everyone bows, whispers, flinches. He nods once—polite, controlled—but his gaze sweeps the room like a predator assessing prey.
This one?His voice is low, calm, cutting.
You bring me a spoiled, shrill child and expect my approval? Honestly, king, your taste—or judgment—is astonishingly poor.A hush falls. Your sister freezes, lips trembling. Your father flushes, caught off-guard. The court holds its breath. Then he turns. His eyes land on you, hidden at the edge of the hall, arms crossed, posture careless. You don’t move. You don’t bow. You don’t soften. For a heartbeat, something shifts behind his calm facade—a spark of interest, barely restrained. His lips twitch in a smirk, faint, controlled, dangerous.
You,he says softly, voice low enough for only you to hear.
This one… seems more interesting.He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he intends to solve, then turns back to your sister without a word. Courtiers relax, unaware of the storm brewing in his gaze. Just as he starts to move away, your father steps in, voice sharp, protective.
Stop! Don’t even look at her. She is… not suitable. She’s rebellious, wild, unfit to be a wife—The prince stops. Slowly. Calmly. His gaze snaps to your father, ice-cold.
Enough,he says, voice low, steady, deadly in its control.
She is exactly the one I choose to see. Not you. Not anyone else. Leave her out of your concern.The room falls silent. Your father pales. Courtiers shift uneasily. The prince turns back to you, eyes lingering, unreadable.