Chapter 3 Eyes Across the Ballroom

The Grand Hall of Eldoria had never glittered like this before. The biggest royal ball that happens every decade is about to take place.

Chandeliers bathed the ballroom in golden light, their flames caught in a thousand hanging crystals. Music swelled and shimmered through the high-arched ceilings, while nobles and royals from across the realms floated across the marble floor in silken hues of gold, crimson, and midnight blue. Royalties from all tribes stepping in in Grand styles. Guards were armed and alert. Courtiers whispered, drank, and danced, their laughter like chiming bells.

But beneath the glitter and charm was a different rhythm-one of caution, tension, and strategy.

For the first time in decades, Eldoria and Virelia stood side by side in celebration. An uneasy truce-painted over with pleasantries and wine-was in place. But everyone in the room knew this ball wasn't just about diplomacy. But they kept it that way.

It was a test.

Kael stood on the upper landing, expression unreadable, dressed in dark navy robes embroidered with silver threads. A ceremonial sword was belted to his side-not for defense, but tradition. He had always hated these events, but he was never absent. The empty formalities, the fake smiles, the way nobles clung to power through whispers and silk, he hated it all.

He didn't belong here. He never had.

And yet, they all stared at him-some in awe, others in fear. The Champion of Eldoria. The Stormblade. The warrior who had shattered the Frostborn. The prophecy made flesh. He was adored.

He felt the weight of every gaze, but kept his expression unreadable.

Then the music shifted.

The Grand doors of Eldoria hall was opened wide for another Grand entrance.

And she walked in.

Flanked by her attendants, Princess Elara of Virelia entered the ballroom with the air of someone born to command attention. Her gown was a vision of twilight-deep indigo layered with silver constellations that shimmered with every step. Her posture was regal, chin slightly lifted, eyes scanning the crowd with bored curiosity.

Until her gaze met his.

Kael froze.

The golden light caught her face just so, illuminating her silver-gray eyes-the same eyes he had seen on the balcony the night after his victory with Frostborn some years ago. The stranger cloaked in mystery. She had stood before him like a dream, then vanished into the night. And now she was here. Real. Standing before him, again.

Royal.

His jaw tensed, but he said nothing.

Elara tilted her head slightly, recognizing something in his gaze. The faintest flicker of recognition. But it was gone as fast as it came, hidden behind the cold mask he wore like armor.

She raised a brow.

So, this was the great Kael.

He looked exactly as the rumors described-tall, sharply built, and entirely too composed. Power radiated off him, quiet but unmistakable. But there was no warmth in his eyes. Just... stone. She hated him already.

A herald's voice broke the tension.

"Presenting Princess Elara of House Virelia, heir to the Sapphire Throne."

Applause followed as she smiled and walked majestically. Kael looked away first.

---

The night deepened. Wine flowed, music played, and the dance floor became a swirl of color. Alliances were made in whispers and glances. Deals struck behind fans and under the guise of politeness.

Kael remained on the edge of it all, as always. Watching. Measuring. His duty tonight was clear-be present, be polite, say nothing of consequence and be on guard.

So naturally, she came straight toward him while the dance floor was busy.

"Your reputation precedes you," Elira said coolly, stopping just in front of him.

Kael didn't move.

"Stormblade, is it?" she added. "Or should I call you something else? The Slaughterer of the North, perhaps?"

He turned to look at her, his expression unchanged. "And you must be the crown jewel of Virelia. Pretty, polished, and kept behind glass."

Her eyes narrowed. "You don't speak like a man raised in a palace."

"And you don't carry yourself like someone who's seen a battlefield," he said.

"You don't know me. But at least I haven't bathed in blood and called it glory."

Kael's eyes darkened slightly. "You think war is a choice?"

"I think some people enjoy it too much."

Elara just hated this man and wants to get on his nerves.

The music shifted again, rising into the beginning of a formal dance. Pairs gathered on the floor, positioning themselves with practiced elegance. A ripple of excitement moved through the crowd-this was the opening waltz, traditionally danced by the most prominent figures of each kingdom.

Kael's name had already been whispered as the Eldorian pick.

Which meant...

Elara leaned closer, just enough to be heard over the swell of strings. "I suppose you'll pick some noblewoman to twirl around while pretending to tolerate her."

He said nothing.

"Let me guess," she said, her voice a little sharper now. "You think I'm arrogant. Soft. A puppet stitched with embroidery and empty titles."

"I think," Kael said evenly, "that you talk too much."

Elara's lips parted, a retort on her tongue.

But Kael leaned in, low and unexpected, his voice like a shadow wrapped in velvet.

"Will you dance with me?"

It wasn't a request. It wasn't a taunt. It was... something else. A challenge? A shield? She couldn't tell.

Elara stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone.

She was the first to recover. "Is that how you win battles, Kael? Catch them off guard and ask them to waltz?"

His hand was already extended.

Despite herself, she placed her hand in his.

The crowd parted as they stepped onto the floor. Every eye turned to them now-Virelia and Eldoria, dancing in a fragile rhythm. Music swelled, and their bodies moved in perfect time, but their gazes stayed locked, unblinking.

"I still don't trust you," she murmured.

"I don't need your trust," he replied.

"You don't seem like the kind of man who dances."

"I'm not."

"You're stiff," she said, smiling faintly. "You fight better than you lead."

He stepped in closer, voice low. "I've led enough to know when someone is testing me."

Elara arched her brow. "And am I?"

"You know better."

The dance turned, their movements sharper, more fluid, the air between them electric. It wasn't just a performance anymore-it was a duel of wit, of posture, of something unspoken.

By the final spin, she was closer than before, her hand against his chest.

"You're not what I expected," she said softly.

"Neither are you."

"You don't know me." she said

"This is the second time you're saying this,"

"Well that's because you don't."

The music faded.

They parted with a graceful step, applause filling the air-but their eyes remained locked. Here comes more curiosity.

Kael turned before anyone could speak to him, disappearing into the crowd without saying a word.

Elara stood still, her heart pounding for reasons she couldn't explain.

---

Later that night, as Kael strode through the palace gardens, the moonlight breaking through glass and marble, he stopped beneath an arch of silver ivy.

Something was wrong.

He reached for his blade just as a shadow darted behind the pillar. A glint of steel in the dark.

And then-

A flash of silver eyes.

But not Elara's.

These were colder. Emptier.

A second figure stepped from the shadows, cloaked in Virelian royal colors, a sword in one hand, and a smirk on his face.

"The queen sends her regards," the stranger said.

Kael raised his blade.

The garden bloomed with tension.

And the night was no longer about diplomacy as swords began to clash.