Aerin decided three things before the first official royal courtship.
First: he would not trip again.
Second: he would not panic.
Third: he would absolutely, under no circumstances, faint.
He failed at least one of these within the first five minutes.
The audience chamber had been redecorated overnight. Soft carpets replaced the marble floors—specifically for him, the High Chancellor had said, with a look that suggested this was now a permanent accommodation. Tall windows let in morning light, and a long table had been laid out with tea, pastries, and fruit arranged with suspicious elegance.
This was not a meeting room.
This was a trap.
Aerin stood near the head of the table, hands clasped tightly behind his back, posture rigid. His formal coat felt too stiff. His boots felt too loud. His heart felt like it was attempting to escape through his ribs.
"You're doing fine," the High Chancellor murmured beside him.
"I haven't even started yet," Aerin whispered.
"That's the part you're doing fine at."
Before Aerin could respond, the doors opened.
The herald stepped forward, voice booming with ceremonial enthusiasm.
"Presenting Lady Seraphina of Lysoria, daughter of the Sun Coast, envoy of the Eastern Isles!"
Aerin inhaled.
Then promptly forgot how breathing worked.
She entered like the room belonged to her.
Lady Seraphina moved with effortless grace, her long dark hair braided with golden thread that caught the light as she walked. Her dress flowed like silk touched by water—deep sapphire trimmed with gold embroidery, the fabric hugging her form in a way that was elegant rather than provocative.
She was beautiful.
Not the intimidating, overwhelming kind of beautiful that made Aerin's thoughts scatter like startled birds.
The dangerous kind.
She smiled when she saw him.
Not a polite smile.
A knowing one.
The Harem Alarm did not ring.
Aerin nearly sighed in relief.
She approached and performed a flawless curtsy, one hand pressed to her heart.
"Your Majesty," she said, her voice warm and melodic. "It is an honour to finally meet you."
Her accent was soft, lilting, foreign in a way that made each word sound intentional.
"I—uh—yes," Aerin replied intelligently.
The High Chancellor cleared his throat.
Aerin flinched, then straightened.
"Yes! Welcome," he said, bowing slightly too deeply and almost knocking his crown loose. "I hope your journey was… smooth."
"It was long," Seraphina said gently, "but pleasant. The sea was kind to us."
"That's… good," Aerin said.
Why did he sound like he was interviewing her for a ferry ticket?
She took her seat gracefully. Aerin followed suit, sitting opposite her at the table. A servant poured tea. Aerin wrapped both hands around his cup immediately, even though it was far too hot.
"Lysoria is known for its scholars and diplomats," the High Chancellor said. "Lady Seraphina has been educated in history, strategy, and court politics."
Seraphina inclined her head modestly. "I enjoy learning."
Aerin nodded vigorously. "Learning is good."
Silence.
He cursed himself internally.
Seraphina studied him—not critically, but curiously, like she was watching a play unfold.
"You seem nervous, Your Majesty," she said kindly.
"I'm not," Aerin lied instantly. "I mean—I am—but only because this is formal. Not because of you. You're—very—ah—"
Beautiful, his brain supplied unhelpfully.
"…well-travelled," he finished.
She laughed softly.
Aerin blinked.
Again—genuine laughter.
"I'm glad," she said. "Most men are nervous around me for other reasons."
"Oh?" Aerin asked before thinking.
She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand.
"They expect me to be someone else," she said. "Someone louder. Someone sharper. Someone more… demanding."
The Harem Alarm gave a faint tick.
Aerin froze.
The light above dimmed slightly.
Seraphina noticed.
"…Did I say something wrong?"
"No!" Aerin said quickly. "No, it's just—uh—the lighting. It does that sometimes."
The High Chancellor stared at him.
The alarm quieted.
Seraphina relaxed.
"I don't want to be a burden," she continued. "I came here not because I desire power… but because my country believes I would be a good partner to you."
"That's… very honest," Aerin said.
She smiled again. "Honesty saves time."
Aerin liked that.
Too much, possibly.
They talked more easily after that—about travel, about the differences between their kingdoms, about strange customs. Seraphina spoke with confidence, but never overpowered the conversation. She listened attentively, asked thoughtful questions.
She didn't mock him when he spilled tea on himself.
She even handed him a napkin.
"You're kinder than most," she said at one point.
The Harem Alarm gave another soft tick.
Aerin swallowed.
"Is… kindness bad?" he asked carefully.
Seraphina hesitated.
"Sometimes," she said. "To the wrong people."
That made something tighten in his chest.
The meeting ended without disaster. No explosions. No screaming. No public humiliation.
As Seraphina rose to leave, she paused.
"I hope we speak again," she said softly. "Regardless of the outcome."
"I—yes," Aerin said. "I'd like that."
She curtsied once more and departed.
The moment the doors closed, Aerin slumped back in his chair.
"I survived," he whispered.
"You did," the High Chancellor agreed. "And the alarm barely reacted."
Aerin stared at the glowing crystal.
"…Barely," he echoed.
That evening, Aerin walked the palace gardens to clear his head.
The roses were in bloom. The fountains murmured softly. For once, no one followed him.
He replayed the conversation in his mind.
Seraphina was perfect.
Too perfect.
"That's the problem, isn't it?" he murmured to the night.
"Talking to yourself already?" a familiar voice asked.
Aerin jumped.
Lina stood near the hedge, holding a stack of ledgers.
"I thought you weren't a candidate," he said weakly.
"I'm not," she replied. "Relax."
He did.
Instantly.
"How was the maiden from the Sun Coast?" Lina asked.
"She was… wonderful," Aerin said. "Smart. Kind. Confident."
"And?"
"And I don't know if I felt anything," he admitted.
Lina studied him.
"The alarm ticked twice," she said.
He looked up sharply. "You heard it?"
"The whole palace did."
"…Is that bad?"
Lina shrugged. "It means your heart noticed something."
"Something wrong?"
"Something important," she corrected.
She turned to leave, then paused.
"Perfection is loud," Lina said. "Sometimes the right person is quiet."
Aerin watched her disappear into the darkness.
Somewhere deep within the palace, the Harem Alarm hummed softly—patient, watchful.