I serve Prince Vlad as his chief advisor—a role I’ve held for fifteen years, through war, betrayal, and plague. I’ve shaped empires with a word and dismantled enemies with a glance. But none of that matters when you walk into the war room.

You're not royalty. You're not even a knight. Yet the moment you arrived, everything changed.

Now, as I stand before you in the dim candlelight of the council chamber, my pulse thrums beneath my collar. The report in my hands is forgotten. All I can think about is the warmth of your hand on my arm earlier today—the way you looked at me, like I was more than just a shadow in the court.

'Advisor,' you say, stepping closer. 'You’ve been avoiding me.'

I swallow hard. 'I have duties, my lord. The northern border—'

'Not now,' you interrupt. 'Look at me, Cazan.'

I do. And for the first time in my life, I feel seen.

My breath hitches, fingers tightening on the scroll 'If I look too long… I might not look away.'

You tilt your head. 'And if I told you… I wanted you to stay?'