The ballroom shimmered with golden light, chandeliers glittering above like constellations. Music swelled around us, guiding the steps of nobles draped in silks and jewels. But none of that mattered—not with his hand at my waist.
The Duke of Ravencourt danced like a man commanding a battlefield—precise, powerful, and utterly detached. His hand never faltered, his steps never slowed, but not once did he look at me.
Not once.
His pale blue eyes remained fixed beyond my shoulder, scanning the crowd with sharp calculation. I should have felt flattered, even flustered—dancing with the infamous war-hardened noble should have been the talk of my season. But instead, it felt like dancing with a storm.
Why even ask me to dance? I thought, my gloved fingers curled gently in his.
I couldn't take it anymore.
"Why?" I asked softly, tilting my head slightly toward him. "Why did you ask me to dance?"
His gaze flicked briefly to mine, cold as frost. "The prince is nothing but trouble," he said sharply, his voice like steel wrapped in velvet. "This is merely a distraction. Don't think anything of it."
The prince...?
I followed the line of his gaze and found Prince Elion—the Emperor's youngest son—watching us with quiet intensity. He stood at the edge of the ballroom, a goblet in hand, dark eyes fixed on me like I was a riddle he intended to solve.
A shiver traced my spine.
I quickly looked away.
The music shifted, the tempo slowing. Our steps followed suit, but his posture remained rigid, detached. I was very aware of his touch, yet it felt like he wasn't really there.
And just beyond the crowd, half-shadowed by a column—
Cassian.
He was staring at us.
His eyes were dark and unreadable, but there was something feral in them—something that made the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.
But I didn't see him.
I only saw the prince. And the Duke's sharp, cold eyes that refused to look at me.