The king and queen stood there in a welcoming manner, their only son positioned between them.
The king had a strong build—broad and imposing.
The queen was gorgeous, her beauty graceful and sharp.
But their son… he was something else entirely.
He didn't look like he came from her.
He was overweight, his face sagging in odd places, and yet, somehow, he was surrounded by beautiful women.
They clung to him with stiff smiles, their eyes wide and distant—like dolls posed for display.
The moment Sylas and the others stepped out of the cart, the prince's gaze locked onto Ana.
He didn't blink.
His eyes dragged across her like claws—slow and possessive, like he had just spotted something he thought already belonged to him.
"Welcome, King Kael," the King of Selvaran muttered.
His tone was soft—yet deceiving.
He wore that grin—that smug little curve that screamed: Don't trust me.
Then the king turned to Sylas.
"And who do we have here?"
