Princess Elara stood before the gilded mirror, her pale fingers trembling as her maids fastened the last of her bridal gown. The silk shimmered like moonlight, beautiful yet suffocating.
"Your Highness," whispered her maid, eyes darting nervously to the closed doors. "Do you… do you truly wish to go through with this?"
Elara's lips curved into a bitter smile. Wish? She had no choice. The council had decided. The kingdom needed peace, and peace came at the cost of her freedom.
She was to marry the man the people called the Cursed Prince.
The son of the northern kingdom. Born under the blood moon. Said to carry death in his very touch. They said flowers withered when he walked past, and that even the sun refused to shine upon him.
They said he had never smiled.
And yet, he was to be her husband.
Elara's heart thudded against her ribs as the palace doors opened, spilling golden light across the marble floor.
"Presenting His Highness, Prince Kael of Nocturne."
The court gasped as he entered. Tall. Cloaked in black. His silver hair caught the light, his eyes like storm clouds—unfathomable, cold.
But when those eyes met hers, the world fell silent.
And in that silence, Elara felt something she hadn't expected.
Not fear.
Not hatred.
But a pull, dangerous and undeniable, as though the curse itself had chosen her.
Kael stopped before her, his voice a low murmur that seemed to echo inside her chest.
"Are you ready to move on.... Princess?"
Elara raised her chin, forcing steel into her words though her breath trembled.
"Yes. I am fully prepared."
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. Something the curse could not hide.
And she knew then—her fate was no longer her own.