THE SHADOW BOUND CROWN

The ballroom had thinned out, the most eager nobles retreating to private discussions or indulgent feasts. Yet, among them, Caelum remained by Evelyne's side, his presence unwavering. Their conversation was polite but laced with unspoken tension, his every word carrying the weight of a man determined to impress.

"You carry yourself with an air of wisdom, Your Highness," Caelum remarked smoothly, his storm grey eyes gleaming under the flickering light of the chandeliers. "Few princesses understand the burden of the crown as well as you do."

Evelyne smiled, though it was measured. "Perhaps that is because few princesses have been raised with the knowledge that the crown is a duty, not just an ornament."

Before Caelum could respond, Laurien approached, his strides confident, his presence as effortless as the cool northern winds. "Princess Evelyne," he interrupted, his voice rich with amusement yet lined with something deeper. "Would you honor me with a walk? The castle gardens are quite the sight at night."

Caelum stiffened beside Evelyne, his jaw tightening. But decorum bound him—he could not argue, not now, not with so many eyes around them. With a tight-lipped smile, he stepped back. "Of course. The gardens must be magnificent this evening."

Evelyne's gaze flickered between the two men before settling on Laurien. He had a kind icy but warm to him, one that made it easy to agree. "A walk sounds lovely."

Laurien led her out of the ballroom, past the marbled corridors, and through the towering archway into the castle's largest garden—Safael. Under the moonlight, the blossoms glowed softly, silver and blue petals swaying gently in the night breeze. Fireflies drifted between the trees, their golden light weaving between the dark leaves like fleeting stars.

"It's beautiful," Evelyne murmured, inhaling the crisp air. She had always come to these gardens ever since she was little. Her mother used to bring her here when she was young, and they easily reminded her of her.

Now beautifully decorated with lanterns and full of other lights on the trees, the ground on the grass and at the fountain at the center they radiated beauty and looked magnificent.

"It is," Laurien agreed, though his gaze remained on her rather than the garden. "Though not as captivating as the company I keep."

She let out a soft chuckle. "You certainly have a way with words."

"It's a skill I learned well. When one is not born the first heir, words often become their best weapon." He walked beside her, hands loosely clasped behind his back. "My father's kingdom has long needed stability. My brother is a good man, but... he lacks the vision needed to rule. If I were to wed well, to build strong alliances, perhaps I could protect my people better than he ever could."

His thought of his sister and how a similar fate, if not worse from Evelyne awaited her if he failed to secure the throne. 

Evelyne studied him, recognizing the burden in his words, a burden she knew all too well. "So, you seek marriage not for love, but for power?"

Laurien hesitated, then exhaled a soft laugh. "I seek marriage for survival. Power is only a means to that end."

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, as they reached a marble fountain where water flowed in shimmering rivulets, Laurien turned to face her fully. "What of you, Princess? Do you wish to marry for love? Or for duty?"

Evelyne's fingers traced the cool stone of the fountain's edge. "If given the choice, I would wish to marry for neither. Love is fragile, and duty is suffocating."

Laurien took a step closer, his presence warming the cool night air. "Then what is it you wish for?"

She turned to meet his gaze, their faces mere inches apart. There was something unreadable in his expression—curiosity, admiration, something else entirely. Evelyne's breath hitched, the space between them narrowing, the moment delicate and unspoken. Then—

Boom.

A burst of color ignited the sky, reds and golds raining down like falling embers. More followed—vibrant blues, dazzling silvers, the air thick with the scent of burning powder and magic. The festival fireworks had begun.

Inside the castle, nobles hurried to the balconies, eager to witness the spectacle. Among them was Caelum, his expression unreadable as he watched Evelyne and Laurien step apart, their almost-moment now just another fleeting whisper in the night.

At the same time, Lysara reentered the festivities, slipping in unnoticed at first. But unlike before, she was not alone. At her side, walking with a cool, collected grace, was Princess Aurelia. Though they stood together, a palpable distance remained between them, as though a silent battle of wills had yet to be decided.

Hadrian noticed them first, grinning as he lifted a goblet to his lips. "Our dear Lysara returns. And with such charming company."

Evelyne turned her head at his words but completely ignored him in the next moment, leaving him seething with anger. Her eyes spotting her sister standing on the edge of the crowd, her face unreadable. Their eyes met for a brief moment—no words, no need. They simply stood there, watching the sky ignite with fire and light, two figures among a sea of nobles, neither speaking of the cold that still lingered in the air between them.

The night, for all its warmth, still carried whispers of the cold. And it had just started.