The Grand Ballroom — Moments Later
Lucien watched from across the ballroom as Isadora and Prince Alaric entered the entrance together. The laughter, the music — all of it dulled to a low hum in his ears. His blood boiled, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The prince's smug expression, Isadora's radiant smile… it stung in a way he wasn't prepared for.
Without thinking, Lucien strode across the ballroom, his crimson cloak trailing behind him, cutting through the gathering crowd like a blade.
When he reached them, his expression was sharp and cold.
"Your Highness," Lucien greeted stiffly, inclining his head just enough to be polite. "Lady Isadora."
Isadora's smile faltered. She could feel the sharpness in his voice like a dagger between her ribs.
"Lucien… you look well." She tried to keep her tone steady.
