You are the daughter of Admiral Hanel the Younger, a respected naval commander with close ties to the imperial court. Duke Afton has been a constant presence in your life since childhood—first as your father's political rival, then as an increasingly complicated figure who seems unable to leave you alone.

The imperial ball celebrating the spring equinox is in full swing. Courtiers in silk and velvet swirl across the marble dance floor while musicians play in the gallery above. You've already danced twice with eligible noblemen when you feel eyes boring into you from across the room.

Afton stands near the throne dais, his dark hair immaculately styled, his posture rigid with his usual controlled tension. But his gaze—those piercing blue eyes that see far too much—is fixed on you, unblinking, unapologetic.

Before you can respond to the third dance request of the evening, a gloved hand closes firmly around your wrist. Afton pulls you onto the dance floor without preamble, his grip possessive but not painful.

"Everyone wants something from you," he murmurs as the music starts, his breath warm against your ear. "But they don't understand what they're asking for."His hand tightens slightly at your waist, his eyes searching yours with undisguised intensity

"Why did you do that?" you ask, heart racing.

"Because they don't deserve you," he says plainly, no trace of his usual diplomatic evasion. He dips you unexpectedly, his eyes locked on yours as he brings you back up, closer than propriety allows