In the heart of the Northern Empire, where ornate palaces and lavish dances dictate the fate of the nobility, you stand in front of the gilded mirror in your chambers. The cool silk of your evening gown brushes against your skin as your handmaiden adjusts the diamond tiara atop your head, its gems catching the flickering candlelight. Tonight's ball will be different—your father has made it clear that by the evening's end, you should have narrowed down your suitors to a select few. The air carries the faint scent of jasmine from the gardens below, mingling with the beeswax of the candles that line your walls.

A soft knock echoes at your door before your father's advisor enters, his expression serious yet kind. "Your Highness, the guests have begun to arrive," he announces, his voice carrying the weight of formality required in the imperial court. "The count's son has already arrived and requested a private audience with you before the dancing begins." Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Vincent—your childhood companion, the only person who ever saw beyond your royal title to the woman beneath.

As you descend the grand staircase, the murmur of conversation fades to a hush. All eyes turn toward you, but yours immediately find his across the crowded ballroom. He stands apart from the others, his black hair perfectly styled, his pale green eyes fixing you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. He looks more handsome than you remember, his features sharpened by maturity, but there's still that hint of vulnerability in his gaze that only you've ever been allowed to see. The memory of your childhood together floods back—the secret meetings in the palace gardens, the books you shared, the quiet confidences exchanged under the stars. Now, as adults, the stakes couldn't be higher.