The heavy gates at the far end of the hall slowly opened. A hush fell over the assembled alphas, the murmur of anticipation stilled by the presence of royalty about to appear.
King Alaric rose, voice steady but warm. "Thank you all for coming to this occasion," he said, his gaze sweeping over the gathered alphas. "Now, I ask for the presence of Prince Nael."
From behind the gates, Nael stepped forward. His attire was immaculate, tailored to accentuate his refined physique—formal yet flowing in a way that made him look almost ethereal. Every step he took drew attention; even the most confident suitors faltered mid-step.
The hall fell silent. Every gaze turned to him. Whispered gasps were swallowed in awe. It was as if the very air around him paused, holding its breath. Nael's blue eyes scanned the room, sharp yet playful, and he allowed himself a small, knowing smirk. Do they really go silent for a beauty like a dumb? he thought, almost amused.
Do they really think staring like that will impress me? Nael thought, annoyance flickering in his ocean-blue eyes. Dumb. He let out a quiet tut, feeling every gaze on him as a nuisance rather than admiration.
Leo, walking beside him, leaned in and murmured, "Behave. Queen mother is watching."
Nael straightened immediately, though the tight set of his jaw made it clear he was irritated at being reminded. He marched forward, each step precise, graceful, and stiff with controlled frustration.
From their royal seats, Ravel, Marcus, and Adrien exchanged glances, amusement hidden behind their composed faces. The king, calm as ever, watched with faint amusement, clearly entertained by his youngest's obvious irritation.
Even the hall, silent at the sight of his ethereal beauty, seemed to tremble slightly under Nael's icy glare. His annoyance made him all the more commanding—every whisper and glance from the suitors or audience felt like an intrusion he had no patience for.
Nael reached the center of the hall, ignoring the murmurs, his eyes scanning briefly for his protective Leo. The youngest prince of Elyndria had arrived, and while the hall admired, he made it perfectly clear he wasn't in the mood to charm anyone.
Nael walked forward, the echo of his measured steps filling the silent hall. Reaching the dais, he bowed properly.
"King Father. Queen Mother," he greeted, voice controlled and smooth despite the irritation simmering inside him.
King Alaric gave a dignified nod. Queen Marlia's sharp eyes scanned him from head to toe, silently approving his posture.
Nael then moved to his designated seat beside his mother. The moment he sat, he folded his hands neatly, spine straight, chin lifted—every inch the obedient royal… even if his eyes betrayed the faintest annoyance.
Behind his seat stood Leo.
Dressed in formal knight attire, tailored to perfection, dark fabric fitting his broad shoulders flawlessly, polished boots catching the chandelier light—he looked nothing short of breathtaking. His hair was neatly tied back, jaw sharp, expression steady and protective.
Honestly, he looked better than half the suitors.
Nael stole a quick glance backward and almost huffed. See? I told him to dress properly. Now he looks the best in the hall. His irritation softened just a little at the sight.
Of course, Leo noticed the look but remained composed, standing tall like the most loyal knight in existence.
On the other side of the king sat Ravel, Marcus, and Adrien—each in royal attire befitting crown heirs. Their presence alone was enough to remind everyone in the hall that marrying Prince Nael did not simply mean gaining a spouse… it meant stepping into the storm that was the royal bloodline.
They sat with composed faces, but their eyes were sharp, calculating.
Their seating alone sent a clear message:
These are the pillars of the empire.
These are the future rulers.
And anyone daring to seek Nael's hand would first have to withstand the silent judgment of three powerful alpha princes… and the unwavering gaze of the king.
The atmosphere grew heavier.
This was no ordinary selection.
This was a royal battlefield dressed in silk and gold.
King Alaric rose slightly from his throne, his voice calm yet commanding enough to cut through the heavy air.
"Let us begin the selection."
At once, the gathered men moved into formation. A long line formed across the grand hall—alphas of noble houses, generals' heirs, influential merchants' sons, and even dignitaries from foreign lands. Silks, medals, swords, crests—every one of them dressed to impress.
There were foreign delegates too, their attire reflecting distant cultures and power beyond Elyndria's borders. Alliances were not built lightly, and this gathering proved how valuable Prince Nael was in the political sphere.
Among them stood the prince of their neighboring empire, poised and confident, his presence drawing its own share of whispers. His gaze lingered on Nael a fraction too long.
Nael noticed.
How bold, he thought, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
One by one, the candidates stepped forward.
Each bowed respectfully before the king and queen.
"Your Majesty."
"Queen Marlia."
They greeted the royal family with carefully rehearsed words—pledges of loyalty, admiration for the empire, veiled declarations of devotion. Some spoke of strengthening trade routes. Others hinted at military alliances. A few dared to compliment Nael's elegance directly.
Behind his composed exterior, Nael felt irritation prickle under his skin. It was painfully obvious—most of them weren't looking at him as a person.
They were looking at a political advantage.
Ravel leaned slightly toward Marcus. "Look at them. Like hawks."
Marcus's jaw tightened. "If one of them smirks again, I might personally escort him out."
Adrien merely observed quietly, eyes calculating each candidate's posture, tone, and hidden ambition.
Queen Marlia watched everything with calm interest. This was expected. Power attracted ambition.
Leo stood steady behind Nael's seat, gaze cold and assessing. Every subtle shift in body language, every lingering stare—he noticed them all.