The morning light had barely warmed the halls of the palace when a messenger arrived, bearing an elegant invitation. Eliana held it delicately, fingers trembling—not from nerves, but from the lingering warmth of last night.
"It's… an invitation," she murmured, glancing up at Sebastian. "From my family."
He raised a dark brow, intrigued. "Your family?"
She nodded, heart thumping. "They're hosting a gathering… a celebration. They want us there."
Sebastian's lips curved into a rare, soft smile. "Then we'll go."
The carriage ride was quiet, intimate, a rare stolen moment where the world fell away. But as they approached the sprawling estate, Eliana could feel the atmosphere shift. Whispers fluttered through the crowd even before she stepped out.
There were eyes on them—curious, incredulous, admiring.
The grand ballroom shimmered under golden chandeliers, casting light over polished marble floors and ornate decorations. Musicians tuned their instruments, and noble families mingled, sipping from crystal glasses. Every eye lingered on the entrance when Eliana and Sebastian arrived.
Eliana's fingers brushed lightly against Sebastian's arm, feeling the warmth there steadying her heartbeat. Whispers rippled through the crowd almost immediately.
"Do you see him?" a lady murmured to her friend, voice low. "The way he looks at her… not just as a bride, but as her?"
Another added, "And yet… she's barely noble. Illegitimate, some say. How could he…" Her words trailed off as Sebastian's gaze swept the room with that cold, controlled elegance he was infamous for—except when it rested on Eliana, soft, protective, utterly hers.
Eliana's chest warmed. Exactly. Everything was falling into place.
From the far side of the room, the queen's daughter entered. Princess Fiona. Her emerald eyes immediately fell on Sebastian, and for the first time, she felt it — an undeniable pull she hadn't expected. He's… perfect. And she's… with him? Her mind raced, regret prickling at her heart. If I had attended the day he came to choose his bride… maybe he would have chosen me…
Her usual composure faltered as she watched him glance at Eliana with a tenderness reserved for no one else. She straightened her gown, drew a deep breath, and walked toward him, steps measured and deliberate.
"Your Highness," she said, voice smooth and rehearsed, extending her hand. "I'm Princess Fiona."
Sebastian looked at her, polite but distant, bowing slightly. "I'm pleased to meet you," he said evenly. Then, without another word, he turned back to Eliana, whose quiet smile met his gaze. The subtle exclusion stung more than any harsh words could have.
She forced a tight-lipped smile, masking the shock at how easily he had shut her out of their private bubble.
The music shifted, signaling the start of the first dance. Noble couples twirled gracefully across the floor. Princess Fiona, desperate to reclaim any fragment of her imagined chance, approached Sebastian once more.
"Would you honor me with a dance, Your Highness?" she asked, attempting charm and flattery.
Sebastian's eyes softened, but his answer was firm, unwavering. "I'm afraid I must dance with my wife," he said, voice low and steady.
The room seemed to hold its breath. Princess Fiona froze, face paling as the words sank in. Gasps rippled across the crowd; all eyes were on her. She stumbled, flustered, muttering apologies that no one truly heard, and retreated in humiliation.
Meanwhile, Sebastian extended his hand to Eliana, a private, quiet smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Shall we?" he murmured.
Eliana placed her hand in his, warmth spreading through her chest. Together, they moved gracefully onto the dance floor, the whispers of the crowd fading into nothing. Around them, the palace shimmered, but their world had narrowed to just the two of them.
Even from the shadows, Princess Fiona couldn't tear her eyes away. She had seen the undeniable truth: Sebastian's heart had been claimed, and it was claimed with love.
Eliana, for her part, felt a quiet, victorious thrill. This night, this moment, this dance — it was theirs. And the palace could whisper, doubt, and speculate all it wanted. In Sebastian's arms, she was chosen. She was safe. She had never felt more at home.