Chapter 3 CHAPTER THREE

ELLA

Steady, Ellie.

I muttered the words silently, trying to anchor myself in the middle of the storm I had willingly walked into. My heart was hammering so violently I was genuinely shocked the entire hall couldn’t hear it.

Steady, Ellie.

This was supposed to be simple. 

Except nothing felt simple anymore.

I was sitting in a vast dining hall inside Stormhold, directly across from the most terrifyingly attractive man I had ever encountered in my life. My nerves had been manageable, right up until he had looked at the assembled court staff and attendants with those dark eyes and said, quietly, leave us.

And everyone had.

Now it was just us. No advisors. No servants hovering nearby. Just the crackling tension in the air and the weight of his storm-grey eyes fixed entirely on me.

I am stronger than this.I can overcome this.I just need to be horrible enough that he wants nothing to do with me.

I straightened my spine and folded my hands on the table the way I had seen my mother do a thousand times when she was performing composure. I focused on the space just beside his face rather than directly at it, because looking straight at him was proving to be a tactical error of catastrophic proportions.

An idea sparked in my panicked mind.

Men hated women who were too materialistic. Too demanding. Too obsessed with surface-level luxuries. It was shallow, off-putting, and exactly the kind of personality that killed courtship meetings before the second course.

I could do shallow. I could do off-putting.

I was going to be magnificent at this.

The first course arrived… a dark, hearty broth with chunks of something I didn’t recognize floating in it. It smelled rich and deeply savory, the kind of dish people in this territory probably grew up eating and felt proud of.

I picked up my spoon, stared at the bowl, then looked at him.

He was watching me

Still and composed.

The kind of face that gave absolutely nothing away and had probably been doing so for so long it had forgotten how to do anything else.

Right.

Here we go.

“Is this—” I tilted my spoon toward the broth with the expression of someone who had just discovered something unpleasant in their shoe. “Is this what you typically serve at formal occasions?”

One beat of silence.

“It is,” he replied. His voice was low, rough, like distant thunder rolling over cliffs.

Do not think about his voice, Ellie.

“Hm.” I set my spoon down with a small, deliberate click. “At home, we usually start with a chilled citrus bisque. Very refined. Light and elegant.” I looked at the broth again, letting polite disappointment color my face. “This is very… rustic.”

Rustic.

I had just called a  traditional dish rustic to the High Prince’s face.

Something flickered across his expression… there and gone too fast for me to name it.

“Rustic,” he repeated, tone flat.

“Mmm.” I picked up the spoon again, took a small sip, and maintained the disappointed expression even though the broth was actually delicious…rich, complex, and warming in a way that felt almost comforting. “Yes. Very… practical.”

The word ‘practical’ sounded like an insult in my mouth, and we both knew it.

He said nothing.

A small, horrible thrill ran through me.

Good.

Terrible first impression established. 

Proceeding to phase two.

Phase two was décor commentary.

I let my eyes drift slowly around the grand hall with the critical assessment of someone doing an appraisal. The soaring ceilings, the dark stone walls, the heavy iron fixtures, the enormous windows looking out onto the churning grey sea and cliffs.

“It’s very dramatic in here, isn’t it?” I said conversationally. “All this stone. Very… intense. Dining rooms should feel lighter, don’t you think? Gilded ceilings, imported marble and soft lighting. My mother had our main chandelier commissioned from a master artisan in the eastern territories.” I paused for effect. “It cost more than most people’s entire estates.”

I smiled at him pleasantly.

Damon leaned back slightly in his chair, wings shifting with a soft rustle. “Is that so.”

It wasn’t a question. Just two words delivered with the dangerous calm of someone exercising significant restraint.

Excellent.

Emboldened, I reached for my wine glass with too much enthusiasm. My fingers clipped the decanter. Deep red wine splashed across the front of my expensive storm-grey silk gown in a dramatic, spreading bloom.

I shrieked…loud, sharp, and completely undignified.

“Oh no — my dress!” I shot halfway out of my seat, frantically dabbing at the stain with my napkin. “This is brand new! It cost a fortune! Mother had it specially made and altered just for tonight. The fabric alone is worth more than some people’s entire homes. If this ruins, I swear I’ll—”

I stopped, took a breath, and kept going

“I hope that you have a decent laundry facility. Because my dress requires very specific care and I will not be responsible for what happens to this fabric if it’s treated with anything common.”

I sat back down with a huff, still clutching the wet patch of fabric and deliberately pressing it against my chest for emphasis.

The glamour on my ears was straining badly now. The veil felt suffocating. My bracelet grew warmer against my wrist, fighting the heavy electric pressure radiating from Damon.

He still hadn’t said much. He simply watched me with that calm, unnerving intensity. Like he was studying every single word. Every reaction.

Why isn’t he throwing me out yet?

I swallowed hard and leaned forward again, lowering my voice into what I hoped sounded like a conspiratorial whisper.

“Between us… I’m not really the faithful type. I get bored very easily. And I like being spoiled. Constantly. Expensive gifts, constant attention, trips to the best parts of Nexveil. If we did this, you’d have to keep me very, very happy.” I let my gaze drift slowly over his shoulders and chest before flicking back up to his eyes. “Though I have to admit… you do look like the kind of man who would be very good at keeping a woman satisfied. Physically, I mean.”

I bit my lip, holding his gaze a second too long.

The blue veins in his wings pulsed brighter.

My stomach twisted with panic.

This was supposed to be working. He was supposed to be disgusted. Offended. Ready to send me back to Silk in disgrace.

Instead, the corner of his mouth twitched…very slightly  in what looked dangerously like the beginning of a smile.

Oh no.

This was not going according to plan.

Not even a little.

I needed to escalate.

Immediately.

I leaned forward again, resting my chin on my hand in what I hoped looked flirtatious. The wet wine stain on my dress clung coldly to my skin, but I ignored it.

“You know,” I said, voice dropping into a conspiratorial purr, “I’ve heard things about men from your court. All that raw power… all that electricity.” My gaze drifted deliberately down to his broad shoulders, then lower, before snapping back up. “Is it true what they say? That when things get… heated… you can actually feel the sparks? Like, literally?”

I bit my lip again, slower this time. “Because I have to admit, that sounds intriguing. A little dangerous, but intriguing. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be with someone who could make my skin literally tingle. Everywhere.”

Damon’s eyes darkened. The electric blue veins in his wings pulsed brighter, casting faint shadows across the table.

I kept going, heart racing, words tumbling out before I could stop them.

“I mean… I’m not shy about these things. If we were to get married, I’d expect a very… active bedroom life. I like being touched. A lot. Hands, mouth, wings… whatever you’ve got. I’d probably be all over you. Constantly. Some men find that overwhelming.” I shrugged one shoulder, trying to look casual while my face burned. “Just thought I should be honest upfront. I’m very demanding in that department. Very greedy, actually.”

I reached for another sip of wine, missed slightly, and spilled more on my already ruined dress. 

“Oops. See? This is what happens when I get excited. I get clumsy. And when I get clumsy, I get handsy.” I gave him a slow, deliberate once-over again. “Though looking at you… I don’t think I’d mind getting my hands on all of that. At all.”

Steady, Ellie. You’re being repulsive. Any second now he’s going to snap.

But Damon didn’t snap.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. The movement made the muscles in his shoulders and arms shift under his dark formal tunic. A low crackle of electricity danced across his knuckles before disappearing.

“You’re being very… forthcoming, Lady Mira,” he said. His voice had dropped lower, rougher. Almost amused.

Oh gods.

I swallowed hard. This was not the reaction I wanted. I needed disgust. 

So I doubled down even harder.

“Honestly,” I continued, voice breathy, “if we agree to this marriage, we might as well skip all the formal nonsense. Why waste time with more dinners and contracts when we could just… move things to your room right now and finish what we’re both clearly thinking about?”

I leaned in even closer, batting my lashes and giving him my most shameless, pervy smile.

“So tell me..” I purred. “How would you like us to move into your room and finish things up tonight? Because I’m more than ready if you are.”