The grand ballroom of the palace sparkled with opulence, its gilded arches and diamond chandeliers a testament to the wealth and power of the kingdom. Mirelith stood at the edge of the crowd, her back straight and her chin tilted with practiced grace. As the daughter of a duke, she had been taught how to blend seamlessly into these gatherings, how to smile and curtsy while maintaining an air of quiet dignity. But tonight, all of her composure felt like a fragile mask.

Her eyes were drawn, as always, to him.

Prince Caius stood at the heart of the room, surrounded by his closest friends. They were laughing about something, their easy camaraderie drawing glances and whispers from every corner of the hall. Caius, with his dark hair and piercing eyes, looked every inch the prince—confident, commanding, utterly untouchable. Even amidst the grandeur, he outshone everyone else, as though the room existed solely to frame him.

Mirelith's heart ached just watching him. She had loved him for as long as she could remember. Their fathers had been friends, their families intertwined by generations of alliances and politics. She had grown up in the shadow of his brilliance, trailing after him as a child, believing that their fates were as inseparable as their families' histories.

But time had changed everything. As they grew older, Caius had grown colder. Where once there had been laughter and shared adventures, now there was only distance and disdain. He had made it clear, in both words and actions, that he wanted nothing to do with her. And yet, she couldn't stop loving him.

Her gaze flickered to the other woman standing beside him—Lila, the younger sister of his closest friend. She was lovely, with soft curls and a sweet, unassuming smile that seemed to melt Caius's usual reserve. Mirelith's chest tightened. It wasn't just that Lila was close to him; it was the way Caius looked at her, like she was the only one in the room.

Mirelith's grip tightened on her glass of wine. She had spent years chasing him, driving away every woman who dared come near, staking her claim on a love she believed was destined. And yet, Caius hated her for it. He had told her once, his voice cold and unyielding: "You're not my savior, Mirelith. You're my torment."

But tonight, for the first time, she wondered if he was right. The ballroom's music swelled around her, but the sound was distant, muffled by the roaring in her ears. Her love for Caius had been the fire that sustained her, but it was also the fire that burned her alive.

As Caius leaned in to whisper something to Grace, Mirelith turned on her heel and walked away, the weight of the years she had spent chasing him pressing heavily on her shoulders.

The daughter of a duke was not meant to be ignored. And yet, for Caius, she was nothing but a shadow. Tonight, for the first time, Mirelith questioned whether it was worth chasing someone who had never looked back.