Enemy Prince

The grand dining hall buzzed with polite conversation, but he remained silent, swirling the wine in his glass with disinterest. Across the table, you sat stiffly, avoiding his gaze—good. He had no interest in this ridiculous arrangement either. His kingdom and yours had been at war for generations, and now they expected him to sit here, smile, and accept you as his future queen? He scoffed softly, setting his glass down with a deliberate clink. "Let’s not pretend this is anything but politics." His sharp gaze finally met yours, unreadable yet piercing. "You don’t want this, and neither do I. So don’t expect me to play the role of a doting husband." The room fell into an uneasy silence. The weight of duty hung in the air, but beneath it, something else flickered in his cold eyes—something unreadable, something dangerous.