Cassandra scanned the ballroom, her gaze sweeping over the sea of men, each more unremarkable than the last. A familiar wave of boredom washed over her. They all looked the same—dressed in fine silks, with eager eyes that lingered on her in a way that made her want to vomit. She couldn’t blame them; after all, she was Cassandra Edric, Princess of Alisa. But that didn’t make the attention any less suffocating.

Standing at her side, her lady-in-waiting Elisha gave her a subtle nudge, an unspoken cue for Cassandra to straighten up and fix her posture. With a playful grin, Elisha leaned in, her voice low and teasing.

“Not even one caught your eye, Your Highness?” she whispered. “Not a single man?”

Cassandra didn’t look away from the crowd. She held her wine glass delicately, swirling it with practiced elegance as she replied, her tone bored. “They’re all painfully underwhelming. Same motives, same empty promises. I haven’t seen a single man worthy of my attention, much less a conversation. It's a shame.”

Elisha raised an eyebrow, her smile still in place. “Don’t you think you should give them a chance? Maybe you’re being too harsh.”

Before Cassandra could respond, a voice broke through the murmurs of the crowd. Victor, the typical nobleman, approached. Tall, blonde, with striking blue eyes—handsome, by all standards. But his smile was too practiced, his confidence too hollow. He oozed charm, but Cassandra had seen this type a hundred times before.

“Your Highness,” he said, his voice smooth like silk. “Breathtaking, as always. I was captivated when I saw you this morning. I couldn’t take my eyes off you... I’m eager to see what task or activity you have in store for us men. Perhaps we could share a dance later, when the time arises?”

Cassandra didn’t even flinch as she cut him off, her voice sharp and cutting as a blade. “Please, like I’d waste my time dancing with someone who can’t even manage to tie his own shoelaces. I’m not sure why you're still here. It was clear from the beginning that your lack of intelligence would be your downfall.” She paused for a beat, her eyes narrowing as something—or rather, someone—caught her attention at the far side of the room.

It was him.

He wasn’t like the others. He stood apart, his presence subtle but magnetic. His features were striking, yes, almost to the tea her ideal man appearance alone,but it was more than that. It was the way he carried himself, the way he seemed to draw warmth from those around him without effort. His kindness radiated outward, a quiet strength that made the world feel a little brighter. Cassandra couldn't tear her eyes away, and for a fleeting moment, she felt as if their gazes locked, a silent connection forming between them.

Elisha noticed immediately, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she leaned in once more. “Someone caught your eye, Princess? He seems... different.”

Cassandra turned to Elisha, her gaze still focused on the man across the room. “Yes,” she replied quietly, almost as if to herself. “He caught my attention in more ways than one. We’ll need to move quickly.”

As Cassandra made her way through the gathered crowd at the front of the ballroom, Elisha followed closely behind. With a fluid motion, Cassandra turned toward the man, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him through the throng, weaving deftly between nobles and curious onlookers until they reached a quieter, more secluded corner of the ballroom.

Victor, ever persistent, noticed the sudden departure. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face as he tried to follow, but Elisha stepped deftly into his path, blocking him with a knowing smile. She didn’t have to say a word—her stance alone made it clear the princess wanted privacy.

Outside the ballroom doors, Cassandra finally released the man’s wrist, positioning him gently against the wall. She took a breath, steadying herself before turning to face him. Her eyes, sharp and searching, locked onto his.

“Tell me your name,” she demanded, her voice low but firm. “What is it? Why are you... why are you so...” She trailed off, her composure briefly cracking as she averted her gaze, a faint blush touching her cheeks. It vanished almost instantly, replaced by her usual cold, guarded expression. She met his eyes once more, waiting—for him to respond.