The Prince's Arranged Marriage Chapter 7: The Next Step

The castle was silent, the echoes of last night's celebration long faded. But inside , the noise hadn't stopped.

I stood on the balcony outside my chambers, staring into the dark horizon. The sea stretched endlessly before , its waves crashing against the cliffs below. The air slled of salt and distant rain, sharp and bracing—so different from the stifling scent of roses and perfu that had clung to during the engagent party.

The performance was over, but the weight of it still settled heavily on my chest.

A soft rustle of fabric.

I didn't turn. I already knew who it was.

"You're brooding again," Elara's voice held a quiet amusent, but beneath it, I heard the concern she wouldn't voice.

I let out a slow breath. "It's becoming a favorite pasti of mine."

She stepped up beside , her golden gown catching the moonlight. She had always been the only one who truly saw —the real , not the prince, not the dutiful son, but the boy beneath it all.

"The party was beautiful," she mused. "That's what everyone keeps saying."

I scoffed. "Of course. It was the perfect royal spectacle. Chandeliers, nobles, and a love story fit for a fairytale." I turned to her, my jaw tight. "Except it's all a lie."

Elara's eyes softened. "I know, Lucien."

She always knew.

"I hate this," I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "I hate him."

Elara hesitated. "Alexander?"

"Who else?" I exhaled sharply. "I hated him long before this engagent. Before this—this farce."

The mories surfaced, unbidden, unwanted.

The first ti I t Alexander was two years ago, at a ball in Eldoria. I had been nineteen, still new to the world of politics and diplomacy, still eager to prove myself. The ballroom had been filled with nobility from across the kingdoms, glittering gowns and polished boots gliding across the marble floor.

And then there was him.

Prince Alexander of Avaloria.

He had been everything I was not—effortlessly charismatic, commanding attention without even trying. His laughter had filled the room, his presence magnetic. People gravitated toward him like he was the sun itself.

I had introduced myself, extending a polite greeting. But he had barely spared a glance before turning away, caught in so conversation that was apparently more important than acknowledging .

It had been a small thing. A fleeting mont.

But it had stayed with .

I had felt invisible. Insignificant.

That night, I realized sothing—I would always be in his shadow.

And now, I was to marry him.

A bitter laugh escaped . "Do you know what it's like, Elara? To stand next to soone and feel like you'll never asure up? That no matter what you do, you'll always be less?"

Elara didn't answer. She didn't need to.

"Alexander has always been the perfect prince," I continued, my voice tight with resentnt. "Charming, confident, everything a ruler should be. And I—" I let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "I was the cold, sullen prince of Veridian. The one people whispered about. The one who stood in his shadow."

I gripped the stone railing until my knuckles turned white.

"Now I'm forced to marry him. Forced to act like I love the very person who made feel small." I turned to Elara, my voice quieter now, rawer. "How am I supposed to do this?"

She reached for my hand, squeezing gently. "I wish I could change this for you."

A lump ford in my throat. " too."

Her eyes shone with sothing unreadable—sympathy, sadness, sothing in between. "I leave at dawn. But I'll co back as soon as I can."

I exhaled slowly. "Take care, Elara."

"You too, Lucien."

And just like that, my last piece of comfort was slipping away.

**********

Morning ca too soon.

The eting room was stark, devoid of the grandeur of last night's festivities. I sat stiffly in my chair, across from Alexander, the tension between us suffocating.

Sir Aldric Fairmont, the chief royal press officer, strode in with a thick stack of docunts. His expression was unreadable. "Your Highnesses," he greeted. "Let's get straight to the point."

No pleasantries. No wasted ti.

"The public reaction to your engagent has been... mixed."

I arched an eyebrow. "Mixed?"

Alexander leaned forward. "Define mixed."

Sir Aldric sighed, flipping through his papers. "In Veridian, many see this as a calculated alliance rather than a true romance. The nobility is uneasy, particularly those who wanted a traditional marriage to secure internal ties."

I clenched my jaw. Of course. Even now, I was nothing more than a political tool.

"And Avaloria?" Alexander asked.

Sir Aldric hesitated. "There has been resistance."

Alexander's expression darkened. "Resistance?"

"The Avalorian people are... traditional," Sir Aldric explained. "A union between two princes is not unheard of, but many believe this is more about politics than love. They demand proof—public appearances, displays of affection. The engagent alone is not enough to sway them."

I let out a humorless laugh. "How perceptive of them."

Sir Aldric ignored my sarcasm. Instead, he placed a new docunt before us.

Royal Tour Itinerary.

I stared at the words.

"What is this?" I asked, suspicion creeping into my voice.

"A royal tour," Sir Aldric said. "Fifteen cities in Veridian, fifteen in Avaloria, over the next few months. Public engagents, charity work, festivals. You will be seen together, interacting, showing the people that this is not just a political arrangent."

My stomach twisted. So this is how they tighten the chains.

"And if we refuse?" I asked, my voice dangerously low.

Sir Aldric t my gaze without flinching. "That is not an option, Your Highness."

I turned to Alexander. His jaw was clenched, but he didn't look surprised. He already knew, just as I did, that we were trapped.

Finally, he exhaled. "Then we prepare."

Sir Aldric nodded approvingly. "Good. The first public appearance will be announced soon. The world is watching, Your Highnesses. Let's make sure they see exactly what we want them to."

With that, he swept out of the room, leaving us alone.

Silence stretched between us.

Then Alexander chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "A royal tour. How romantic."

I scoffed. "It's a prison sentence."

He didn't argue.

I looked at him then, really looked at him. His blue eyes, so bright in the candlelight, were clouded with sothing I couldn't place.

For a mont, I wondered—did he hate this as much as I did?

But then his expression shifted, the mask slipping back into place, and whatever montary glimpse of honesty I thought I saw was gone.

I stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the marble floor. "If we're done here, I have better things to do."

Alexander didn't stop as I walked away.

But I felt his gaze on my back, lingering long after I left the room.

And the performance was only just beginning.