The grand ballroom shimmered with a dazzling mix of colors and lights. The orchestra played a lively tune, and around them, the elite of the Luminaris Kingdom moved in a synchronized tide, their laughter and whispered conversations merging seamlessly with the melody. For a moment, people forgot about their sneaky politics as they lost themselves in their dance.

Edward didn’t answer Lucy immediately. He looked at her outstretched hand, then lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. The silence lingered just long enough for the Princess’s confident smile to falter, if only by a fraction. Then, with the same fluid grace that had defined his entire evening, he extended his own gloved hand.

Lucy’s smile returned, even brighter. She put her hand in his, ready for what was next.

They stepped onto the dance floor, joining the other couples. Edward’s dance was skilled and perfect. He moved like someone who had been dancing for ages, with queens of fallen empires and goddesses of forgotten realms. Every step was right, every turn spot on.

But, as they danced, Lucy noticed something that unsettled her. Edward wasn’t holding her close like the other men held their partners. He held her firmly enough to lead, but his grip was loose, like he was holding something he didn’t value enough. There was no warmth in his hands, no hint of wanting. He was just doing what he was asked, nothing more.

Lucy leaned in, letting her perfume—a special mix of lilies and amber—reach him. She looked up at him, trying to see what he was really thinking.

"You aren’t holding me tight," She said playfully, trying to get a reaction from him. "Why is that? Does my body not please you?"

Edward didn’t miss a step, his feet moving in a perfect counter-clockwise rotation. "You do place a lot of value on yourself to think every man would lust over you."

Lucy’s eyes widened, a sharp laugh escaping her lips. "Are you saying I’m not that pretty?"

"I never said that," Edward replied, his voice flat and devoid of the flattery she was accustomed to. "Don’t twist my words."

With another dance step he continued, "Beauty is abundant in a palace, and that abundance strips it of meaning. On its own, it says almost nothing about a person’s worth."

"You talk proudly for a fifteen-year-old," she countered, her grip on his shoulder tightening as she tried to force him to draw her closer.

"And you think dirty for a seventeen-year-old," Edward shot back, his gaze unblinking.

Lucy almost lost her step. She was good at making clever replies, but Edward’s words weren’t just clever, they were serious. It was obvious that he had seen through people’s games for a long time. She felt a strange, intoxicating thrill—a mixture of irritation and an undeniable, growing attraction. She tried to regain her footing, to be the one in control of the dance.

"You didn’t ask for my name," she pointed out, smiling again. "I assume you already know who I am."

"Who doesn’t know royalty when they see one?" Edward said. He spun her gracefully, his movements so effortless that Lucy felt as though she were floating. "But a title is just a name given by others. It doesn’t tell me who you are, only what cage you were born into."

"A cage?" Lucy laughed, though it sounded a bit breathless now. "I am the Fifth Princess of the Luminaris Kingdom, respected throughout the continent. I can go anywhere, do anything. I am the hunter, Edward Vistro."

"A hunter at engagement parties for people she clearly doesn’t care about?" Edward asked. "You aren’t a hunter, Lucy. You’re just a bird in a garden. You ignore the cage you are in because of what you gain in the garden."

Lucy bit her lip, her mind racing for a comeback. She tried to draw upon her royal aura, the subtle, commanding presence she had used to silence courtiers since childhood. She pushed her will outward, attempting to force him to acknowledge her status. But the moment she looked into his eyes, she felt her own aura being swallowed. It was like a candle trying to illuminate a black hole. His confidence was an absolute, almost physical force, overwhelming her senses and leaving her feeling small and exposed.

Every attempt she made to appear smart or superior fell short. He anticipated each verbal jab, turning them back on her with cold, surgical efficiency. She realized, with a shock that sent a tingle across her skin, that she was failing to keep up. She wasn’t leading this dance; she was barely surviving it.

Edward noticed the shift in her, the precise moment her bravado gave way to something more honest and submissive. That was when he decided the game had run its course.

Without warning, his hand shifted from its loose grip. He slid his arm firmly around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. The suddenness of the move made Lucy gasp, her breasts pressing against his regal blue tunic. For the first time, she felt the raw, tempered strength beneath his clothes.

The detached partner vanished. In his place stood a man whose hold left no room for doubt.

Lucy felt her knees go weak. All her plans, her wit, and her royal pride vanished in an instant. She surrendered to his lead, her head resting near his shoulder as they moved as one. The world around them became a distant blur. There was only the heat of his body and the terrifying, magnetic pull of his presence.

"Better?" Edward whispered near her ear.

Lucy didn’t answer. She just held on, as her heart beat fast in rhythm with the final violin.

As the music struck its final, dramatic chord, the couples across the floor came to a halt. Edward guided Lucy into the closing movement of the waltz, a deep, controlled dip that sent her silver hair spilling toward the polished floor. He held her there for a single heartbeat, his eyes meeting hers with a calm authority before the moment released.

He pulled her back up to a standing position, released her hand, and offered a shallow, formal bow.

"Thank you for the dance, Princess," Edward said, his voice regal.

And as Edward walked past her, she couldn’t help but turn in his direction, her gaze following every minute of his departure.