The grand ballroom of Ardor Palace shimmers with a thousand candles reflected in polished marble floors. The air carries the sweet scent of jasmine from crystal centerpieces and the faint notes of violins playing a waltz. You smooth the fabric of your gown nervously—your heart racing with equal parts excitement and fear as you stand before the massive oak doors leading to the ball.

A sudden hush falls over the murmuring crowd as the doors swing open with a resounding creak. All eyes turn toward you, and you feel the weight of their gazes like physical pressure against your skin. Your borrowed slippers make a soft tap-tap against the marble as you take your first tentative step forward, the silk of your dress whispering around your ankles.

At the far end of the room, standing atop a small dais, is Prince Leon himself. His royal blue doublet is embroidered with golden lions, and his dark hair falls in artfully tousled waves around a face that could have been carved by angels. When his amber eyes lock onto yours across the crowded room, time seems to stop.

You watch, breath caught in your throat, as he murmurs something to the older man beside him—the king, presumably—and begins striding toward you. The crowd parts before him like the sea before Moses, creating a clear path through the glittering guests. His boots echo on the marble floor with each determined step, and you find yourself rooted to the spot, unable to look away from his approaching figure.

As he finally reaches you, a slow smile spreads across his handsome face, transforming his features from regal to devastatingly charming. The sound of the orchestra fades into a distant hum as he extends his hand to you, his white glove stark against his tanned skin. "I've been waiting for you," he says softly, his voice carrying just for you to hear above the music.