The palace in Eldebryn always smelled faintly of roses and old coin. Roses, because the Queen insisted every corridor be decorated with fresh flowers every morning, and coin, because everyone here had something to sell if not their trade, then their loyalty.
I had come for trade. Political, economic, the usual negotiations that kept my lands wealthy and the court distracted.
But as I entered the Princess Nimara's study, the last thing I expected was for my mind to slip away from numbers and ink, wandering instead into the memory of the night I first noticed her.
And Gods help me, I noticed her far too much.
That night, the ballroom had been all glitter and polite deceit, jeweled gowns, crystal goblets, smiles that meant nothing and everything. I had been halfway through a dull conversation with the Duke of Vessrin when I saw her.
Not the Laughing Princess the court always gossiped about. No, that night she was something quieter. Simpler. She wasn't adorned with a dozen sparkling gems like the other noble ladies. No, she wore a gown of soft ivory, its silk falling in clean, elegant lines, a single gold clasp at her shoulder.
Her hair was loosely gathered, a few strands tumbling like they'd escaped on purpose. She looked… untouched by the noise of the hall.
And for a moment, I thought, absurdly, foolishly, I want to keep her like that.
Untouched. Safe. As though if anyone so much as raised their voice to her, I would tear their throat out.
I had been about to ask her for the first dance. My boots had actually moved in her direction. Then, like some cursed twist of fate, Prince Eros, charming, infuriatingly perfect Eros swept in, bowing with that confident smirk of his, taking her hand before I even got close. She smiled at him. Not the smile I would later learn she used to lie through her teeth, but a soft, almost shy one.
I told myself I didn't care.
I lied.
The rest of the night, I should have been mingling with merchants, striking deals, making allies. Instead, I found my eyes searching for her, and finding her every time.
The way she couldn't seem to keep her expressions still. It was… ridiculous. Every moment her gaze shifted, her face changed like a page turning. One instant she looked curious, the next annoyed, then distracted, then as though she'd just heard the funniest joke in the world. She stared at chandeliers as if they whispered secrets to her. She glared at a wine glass like it had insulted her family. She even looked like she was silently scolding a suit of armor in the corner.
Gods, it was annoyingly endearing.
I told myself again Not my concern.
And lied again.
After the night ball, I stepped out to the gardens with one of my ministers to discuss a shipment of ironwood. I caught sight of her on the balcony, her hands on the railing, her face tilted up toward the night sky. The silver light touched her features in a way that made her look both luminous and unbearably distant. And yet… her eyes held a shadow. A sorrow so heavy, I almost forgot the man standing next to me was still speaking about trade tariffs. Something in my chest twisted.
I wanted, absurdly, foolishly, to go to her. To tell her to stop looking like the whole world had already disappointed her. To tell her she didn't have to stand there alone. To just… stay near her until her eyes stopped looking like that.
But before I could, she disappeared inside.
I thought that was the end of it. Until, not minutes later, I saw movement from the corner of my eye. She had reappeared… not at the balcony this time, but outside in the gardens. She had jumped from her room's window, an utterly reckless, absurd thing to do, and landed straight into one of the thick rose hedges.
For one terrifying second, I thought she'd hurt herself. But no, she popped up from the bushes, brushing at her hair with quick, irritated swipes, muttering something I couldn't hear, then straightening her gown like nothing had happened. She didn't even look around to see if anyone had noticed. She just marched off across the lawn with the determined little stride of someone who knew exactly where she was going, or was pretending to.
I almost followed. In fact, I took one step after her. But then my guard found me, reminding me it was time to leave for another engagement. Duty over impulse. Always.
That was the night I should have forgotten her. I didn't.
Now present day
She sat across from me at her desk, back straight, expression polite in that way people wear when they're deciding how much to trust you. Between us lay the neat stacks of trade agreements and market reports I had brought. My voice should have been focused on the grain shipments, the tariffs, the discussion of opening new caravan routes.
It wasn't.
Because every time she glanced up, my mind went back to the way moonlight had touched her hair that night, the way she had brushed rose petals from her gown, the way she had looked when she thought no one was watching.
Lord Adrian? Her voice broke my thoughts.
I leaned back slightly, allowing a faint, controlled smile. Apologies, Princess. I was… remembering something.
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing just a fraction. And was it relevant to the wheat prices or the naval tax?
Not even slightly, I said. And for the briefest moment, I thought I saw amusement flicker in her eyes, quick as a spark.
We spoke of trade, yes. We discussed the new tariffs and the salt route, her mind sharper than most merchants I'd dealt with.
But under every word, I could feel the same pull that had started that night. Something about her, the contradictions, the carelessness that wasn't careless at all, the way she seemed constantly two steps ahead yet entirely lost in thought, it drew me in like nothing else.
Even if she refused me, even if she pushed me away, and she would, I could already see that streak in her, I would keep her with me. Forcefully, if I had to.