Elara’s POV
Fury was a familiar companion, but this felt different.
It burned sharper, tighter, coiling beneath my ribs like something alive. I stood near the edge of the ballroom, watching her move among nobles who laughed too loudly and smiled too wide. She did not belong here. Not in silk. Not under chandeliers. Not breathing palace air like she had any right to it.
And yet she stood straight.
I clenched my jaw.
“Serena,” I said, cutting through the noise as I turned on her.
She faced me calmly, as if I were not the Crown Prince with anger radiating off him in waves. “Your Highness.”
“You brought her,” I said. “Who is she.”
“That is not your concern.”
My temper flared. “You don’t decide what concerns me.”
Serena inclined her head slightly. “I decide whom I answer.”
For a moment, I considered ordering her arrested on the spot. The thought flickered, tempting. Control demanded obedience. But Serena was not a servant. She was my father’s strategist, protected by his trust.
“You escorted a nobody into a royal selection,” I said coldly. “Explain.”
“She was invited,” Serena replied.
“By whom.”
“By the King,” she said evenly. “Through proper channels.”
My blood went hot. “Then you should have warned me.”
“You did not ask,” she said.
I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “That girl challenged me in a market. She insulted me. She does not know who I am.”
Serena’s eyes sharpened. “And you are offended by that.”
“Yes,” I snapped. “Because she does not belong here.”
“Belonging is decided by power,” Serena said quietly. “Not familiarity.”
Before I could respond, a shadow fell across us.
“My son seems agitated,” my mother’s voice purred.
Arinelle stood a few steps away, watching us with open interest. Her gaze flicked from Serena to me, then toward Elara with calculated curiosity.
“What is causing this disruption,” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said quickly.
Serena bowed. “Your Majesty.”
Arinelle smiled thinly. “That girl,” she said, nodding toward Elara. “She’s the reason.”
I stiffened. “She is irrelevant.”
“Then why are you glaring like she stole your crown,” Arinelle asked sweetly.
I said nothing.
Arinelle stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Who is she.”
“A mistake,” I replied.
Serena straightened. “She is under the King’s protection.”
Arinelle’s eyes flashed. “Since when.”
“Since tonight,” Serena answered calmly.
Something in my mother’s expression shifted, suspicion sharpening into interest. “How curious.”
“She will not be chosen,” I said firmly.
Arinelle looked at me. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” I replied. “I won’t allow it.”
“You forget,” she said softly, “that this choice is not yours alone.”
I turned away, scanning the room. Elara stood near a column now, her posture composed but her eyes alert. She looked like she was bracing for impact, and the thought twisted something unpleasant in my chest.
“She is dangerous,” I said.
“Because she doesn’t fear you,” Arinelle observed.
I shot her a look. “Because she doesn’t belong.”
“Belonging can be arranged,” she said.
I shook my head. “Not this.”
Arinelle watched me carefully. “You are reacting emotionally.”
“I am reacting strategically,” I snapped. “If she is chosen, she will humiliate us.”
“Or complicate you,” my mother said thoughtfully.
“I don’t want complication,” I said. “I want control.”
“And I want you powerful,” she replied. “Sometimes that requires tolerating discomfort.”
I turned back to Serena. “You will tell me who she is.”
Serena met my gaze without flinching. “No.”
Anger flared again, hot and sharp. “You forget your place.”
“I know it precisely,” she said. “And so do you.”
Before I could respond, a ripple moved through the ballroom.
The music softened. Conversations hushed.
My father had entered the floor.
King Darius moved with effortless authority, nobles parting before him instinctively. His gaze swept the room once, then fixed on a single point.
On her.
My stomach dropped.
“No,” I muttered.
Arinelle followed my line of sight, her expression sharpening. “Interesting.”
Darius began walking.
Straight toward Elara.
I felt the loss of control like a physical blow. The King’s interest was not casual. It was deliberate. Curious. Evaluating. Everything I despised.
“She will not be chosen,” I said again, more to myself than anyone else.
Arinelle smiled slowly. “We shall see.”
Across the ballroom, Elara lifted her head, clearly startled by my father’s approach. Serena stepped back, fading into the crowd, leaving her exposed.
My pulse thundered.
This was wrong. Every instinct screamed it. The girl from the market did not belong in my future, in my palace, in my life. And yet my father closed the distance with a smile I had rarely seen him wear.
I clenched my fists.
Whatever happened next, I swore one thing to myself. Elara would never be my bride.