4. Caelum
I should be paying attention.
That thought repeats itself like a quiet command in the back of my mind, steady and insistent. I'm standing exactly where I'm supposed to be, at the center of the ballroom, beside Princess Aethylla, under the careful watch of nobles who are already deciding what this moment means.
What it will become.
What I will become.
And yet,
I can't focus on any of it.
Because my mind keeps returning to something else.
Someone else.
Dark hair, just long enough to fall out of place like it refuses to obey. Blue eyes, sharp, clear, almost unnervingly direct. Not soft. Not careful. Not like everyone else here.
Not like anyone I've ever known.
I exhale slowly, forcing my attention back to the present.
Aethylla is speaking.
I realize that a second too late.
"...it's a lovely evening," she says, her voice smooth, practiced.
"It is," I reply automatically.
She smiles.
It's beautiful.
Perfect.
And completely hollow.
I wonder if mine looks the same.
"Your wrists."
The words come from my father, low and deliberate.
I stiffen.
We're standing just outside the main crowd now, the music muted behind heavy doors. Torches flicker along the walls, casting shadows that stretch and twist in ways I don't like.
My father's gaze is fixed, not on me, but on my hands.
On my wrists.
I resist the instinct to hide them.
"Yes?" I ask, careful.
"I saw it."
Of course he did.
He sees everything.
My throat tightens slightly. "Saw what?"
He doesn't answer immediately.
Instead, he steps closer, his presence filling the space in a way that feels suffocating.
"The glow," he says finally. "Pink."
The word lands heavier than it should.
Because I know what it means.
Everyone does.
Fatedmates.
Fate.
A bond that cannot be broken.
I feel it again, sharp and sudden, that flicker of panic I tried to ignore earlier.
Because yes,
I saw it too.
On Aethylla.
Clear.
Undeniable.
But that's not what's unsettling me.
"That confirms it," my father continues, almost satisfied. "You and Princess Aethylla are exactly what this kingdom needs."
Something in my chest twists.
Exactly what this kingdom needs.
Not what I need.
Not what I want.
Just... what's useful.
"I expected as much," he adds.
I force myself to meet his gaze.
"Expected?"
"A match like this isn't coincidence," he says. "It's design."
Design.
The word echoes in my mind, pulling something darker with it.
My mother's voice.
My mother's blood.
I swallow hard, pushing the thought away before it can fully form.
"You will not waste this opportunity," my father says sharply. "Do you understand?"
"Yes."
The answer comes automatically.
Because it always does.
I leave him as soon as I'm allowed.
Not fast enough.
Never fast enough.
The ballroom feels smaller now, tighter, like the walls have shifted closer without warning. The music is louder, sharper. Every laugh feels forced. Every glance feels like scrutiny.
And still...
My mind drifts.
Back to him.
The waiter.
No.
Not just a waiter.
There was something wrong with that.
Or maybe... something right.
I close my eyes briefly, trying to steady my thoughts.
It doesn't work.
Because I can still feel it.
That moment.
The way our hands brushed.
The heat.
The connection.
And...
The glow.
I inhale sharply.
No.
That's not possible.
It doesn't make sense.
I saw Aethylla's wrist.
I know what that means.
So why,
Why can't I shake the feeling that I saw it on him too?
"Caelum."
I don't need to turn to know it's my brother.
His voice always carries that edge when he's angry.
Which is often.
"You're avoiding me."
"I'm busy."
"With what? Pretending this is fine?"
I sigh, finally facing him.
"Not now."
"No, now," he snaps. "Because apparently, later doesn't exist anymore."
I glance around, lowering my voice. "You're making a scene."
"Good."
He steps closer, his expression tight with something I don't want to name.
"Did you see it?" he asks.
My stomach drops slightly. "See what?"
"The bond."
I go still.
"I saw it on her," he continues. "And on you."
I don't respond.
Because I don't trust what I might say.
"That's not right," he adds, quieter now. "Something's wrong."
"Or maybe it's exactly what it's supposed to be," I say, though the words feel hollow.
"You don't believe that."
"Do I have a choice?"
His jaw clenches. "You always say that."
"Because it's true."
"No," he says sharply. "It's convenient."
Something cold flickers in my chest.
"You think I want this?" I ask.
"I think you're giving up too easily."
I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "You think this is easy?"
"I think you're letting him win."
The words hit harder than they should.
"Careful," I say quietly.
"Why?" he shoots back. "Because it's dangerous to say what we're both thinking?"
Silence falls between us.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
"Something's wrong with this," he says again, softer now. "I can feel it."
I look away.
Because I can feel it too.
I don't return to the center of the ballroom.
Instead, I move toward the edges, where the crowd thins and the air feels slightly less suffocating.
But it doesn't help.
Nothing helps.
Because no matter where I go, my thoughts follow.
Back to that moment.
Back to him.
I can still see it.
The way he stood, too steady, too composed for someone who just made a mistake like that. The way he looked at me... not with fear, not with reverence, but with something else entirely.
Something... equal.
No one looks at me like that.
No one dares to.
And yet, he did.
Like my title meant nothing.
Like I was just...
A man.
The thought unsettles me more than it should.
I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly.
This is ridiculous.
He's a waiter.
Nothing more.
Whatever I thought I saw,
It was nothing.
It has to be.
Because the alternative...
The alternative makes no sense at all.
But then...
I remember.
The heat.
The way it surged through me when our hands touched.
The way my wrist burned, just for a second.
And the look in his eyes.
Like he felt it too.
I stop walking.
My heart picks up slightly, uneven in a way I don't like.
No.
That's not possible.
It can't be.
Because if it is...
If I'm right...
Then what does that mean?
That everything I've been told... is wrong?
That fate doesn't work the way it's supposed to?
That the bond my father is so certain of...
Isn't what he thinks it is?
Panic rises again, sharper this time.
Because I don't have answers.
And I don't like not having answers.
I glance down at my wrist.
Nothing.
No glow.
No sign that anything happened at all.
Just skin.
Normal.
Unremarkable.
I almost laugh.
Of course.
It was nothing.
It has to be.
And yet...
I can't shake the feeling.
That something shifted tonight.
Something small.
But irreversible.
"Prince Caelum Aurelius"
I look up, the voice pulling me back again.
Another noble.
Another conversation.
Another performance.
I straighten slightly, forcing the thoughts down, locking them away where they can't interfere.
This is what I do.
What I've always done.
I smile.
I speak.
I play my part.
But beneath it all...
The questions remain.
Louder now.
Sharper.
More dangerous.
Because for the first time in my life...
I'm not sure the path laid out for me is the right one.
And worse....
I'm not sure it ever was.