In Iniko Palace, the night air carried secrets.
The moon hung high above the marble balconies, washing the royal gardens in silver light. Water from the central fountain shimmered like spilled diamonds. White roses — symbols of arranged unity — lined the pathways.
White for duty.
White for obedience.
White for bloodless marriages.
Prince Aren hated white roses.
He stood beneath the carved archway of the eastern garden, hands clasped behind his back, heart restless.
He did not know why he came.
He only knew he hoped she would.
A soft footstep behind him.
He didn't turn immediately.
"You're breaking at least seven palace rules right now," Serah's voice cut through the quiet.
He exhaled slowly.
"I stopped counting after three."
She stepped into the moonlight.
Her escort uniform was gone. Tonight she wore something simpler — dark trousers and a loose training shirt, sleeves rolled up. Practical. Unapologetic.
Her chocolate skin glowed under the silver sky like polished bronze.
She did not belong in a gilded cage.
"You shouldn't summon me alone," she said.
"I didn't summon you," Aren replied gently. "I invited you."
She scoffed. "That's worse."
He finally turned to face her.
"You could have refused."
"I should have."
"But you didn't."
Silence.
The fountain trickled between them.
Serah crossed her arms. "You're making this difficult."
"For who?"
"For me."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Aren stepped closer.
"Why?"
Her jaw tightened.
"Because I don't have the luxury of foolish emotions, Your Highness."
"Then don't use my title."
Her eyes flashed.
"You think this is charming?"
"No," he said softly. "I think this is dangerous."
That made her still.
He moved closer — slow enough that she could step away.
She didn't.
"Since you arrived," he continued, "I haven't been able to breathe properly."
"That's dramatic."
"It's honest."
She looked away first.
"That's exactly the problem."
The palace bells chimed in the distance — midnight.
Tomorrow, the royal families would announce the official engagement between him and Princess Ireti of Olanre.
A marriage he had never seen.
A face he had barely studied.
A future already sealed.
"I'm not afraid of marriage," Aren said quietly. "I'm afraid of living a life that feels empty."
Serah's voice dropped.
"You are a prince. You don't get empty. You get responsibility."
"And what do you get?" he asked.
She hesitated.
"A purpose."
"And does it make you happy?"
That question hit harder than he intended.
Her expression shifted — just slightly.
"I don't need happy."
He stepped closer again.
This time, they were barely an arm's length apart.
"You deserve it."
Her breath faltered.
"You don't know anything about me."
"Then tell me."
Her eyes searched his face, almost angrily.
"You are promised to another woman."
"I haven't met her."
"That doesn't matter."
"It does to me."
Her composure cracked — just a fracture.
"Stop," she whispered.
But she didn't move.
The fountain's sound felt louder now. The air tighter.
Aren lifted his hand slowly — not to touch her — but close enough that the space between their skin felt electric.
"If I asked you to stay," he said, voice low, "would you?"
Her breath warmed the air between them.
"I would be a fool."
"And if I said I was already one?"
For one reckless second—
She leaned closer.
Close enough that their foreheads almost touched.
And that was when it happened.
A branch snapped.
Both of them turned sharply.
At the edge of the garden balcony, partially hidden in shadow—
The First Prince stood watching.
His expression?
Cold.
Calculating.
Amused.
Prince Malik of Iniko did not miss details.
And he had just found his brother's weakness.
Serah stepped back instantly.
"This is over," she said quietly.
"It hasn't even started."
"That's exactly why it has to end."
She turned to leave.
But before she disappeared into the shadows, she said something that made his heart stop.
"If you truly care about me… don't look for me tomorrow."
Then she was gone.
And above him, from the balcony, Malik's slow clap echoed once in the night air.
"Little brother," Malik called down smoothly, "you always did have a taste for impossible things."
Aren didn't look up.
He already knew.
War had just begun.