CHAPTER ONE
The palace chandeliers glowed like captured constellations, scattering gold across the marble floor. Amara stood at the top of the grand staircase, wearing a dress that cost more than most people's houses and a smile that was carefully trained not to slip.
Below her, ambassadors laughed too loudly. Cameras flashed. The air smelled like champagne and expectation.
A royal gala was not a party.It was a battlefield in perfume.
"Your Highness," her mother murmured beside her, lips still smiling for the cameras, "remember. Tonight is about unity."
Amara didn't look at her. "You mean obedience."
Her mother's fingers tightened around her arm. "We need this peace treaty."
Before Amara could reply, a ripple moved through the crowd.
Not a sound. A shift.
The way attention turned like a flock of birds.
And then she saw him.
Prince Kofi Mensah of Zuberi stood in the entrance, dressed in midnight blue, his posture relaxed in the way of a man who knew every eye was on him and enjoyed it. He did not look like an enemy. He looked like trouble with a beautiful face.
He met her gaze across the ballroom.
Held it.
Something sharp flickered between them.
Recognition, perhaps. Or challenge.
"Well," Amara muttered. "That's unfortunate."
Her fiancé, Prince Adewale, leaned closer. "What is?"
"The man who ruined my night just by existing."
Kofi began walking toward the royal platform, each step unhurried, as if the palace belonged to him. The musicians faltered. Even the chandeliers seemed to listen.
When he reached her, he bowed. Not deeply enough.
"Crown Princess Amara," he said. His voice was warm, dangerous. "I've heard you're even more beautiful in person."
She smiled sweetly. "And I've heard you're even more arrogant."
His lips curved. "We both appear to have been told the truth."
Ade gave a tight laugh. "Prince Kofi, welcome to Aderra."
"Thank you," Kofi said, eyes never leaving Amara. "I was hoping I'd finally get to meet the woman my father still complains about."
Her brow arched. "I live to disappoint powerful men."
"Then we already have something in common."
A beat of silence stretched between them, electric and intimate, as if the entire ballroom had disappeared.
Amara felt it then.
The spark.
The wrongness.
The terrifying, thrilling certainty that this man would change everything.
And that she was already in danger.