The hall glowed with hundreds of candles, music rolled through laughter and the rustle of expensive fabrics. Changli entered the hall, the embodiment of refinement itself: her dress was simple in cut, but every detail emphasised her nobility, and the cold smile on her lips sparkled no less than jewels. The scent of sandalwood incense hung in the air while the musicians played a lively tune on stringed instruments that filled the spacious room with vibrations.

Only when she was next to her younger brother did her face soften. The young heir stood straight, proud, as if he had already been entrusted with the protection of the entire empire. "A beautiful couple, aren't they?" one of the nobles muttered under his breath. "It's just a pity that the princess is still so useless. Who would respect a rose without thorns?"

Changli heard him and turned to him with that slight grace that always foreshadowed a blow. "Well said," her voice sounded almost affectionate, but her green eyes flashed with steel. "Just tell me, my lord, who would dare to pick a flower if it stings with poison?"

The laughter instantly died down like a snuffed candle. The nobleman looked away, and many courtiers followed his example. Only her brother stood proudly, sincerely convinced that he was protecting his sister. Changli bowed her head, allowing herself a soft smile, and placed her hand on his shoulder. The silk of his tunic felt smooth against her fingertips, while the murmurs of the court surrounded them like a physical presence.

Behind her, like a stone shadow, stood the dragon hybrid. He did not say a word, but his gaze alone was enough to silence even the most daring mockers. The prince, noticing this, glanced quickly at the hybrid and smiled slightly: he had long been accustomed to the dragon's presence beside his sister and now looked upon him as an example of strength and fortitude. The air seemed to grow heavier and colder whenever the hybrid turned his intense gaze toward anyone who dared speak ill of Changli.