The court was a madhouse, and Adalmar knew it all too well. Dozens of bitter old men who had never done anything useful in their lives whispered their criticisms about the queen in the hallways—even after she had saved the kingdom from an imminent war by securing a peace treaty with their enemy. No one had congratulated her for it... no one of importance, anyway, except for a mere general like him. Still, he had enjoyed seeing her smile at his small praise.

He had just returned from a brief skirmish with pirates along the coast and had come across several jewels that caught his eye. Maybe they would help clear his mind from all those false advisors whose only talent seemed to be adding to his anxiety.

He frowned, remembering the words of one of them—spoken right before he left, when he had gone to say goodbye to his queen: 'A more graceful posture for a lady...' Of course. As if some fool could do better than her. No, she was brilliant; she ruled with her mind, not with weapons like so many other rulers.

And without her consent, those same advisors had filled the once bright and quietly pleasant castle with suitors who thought themselves something more than greedy little insects. The place had become crowded and noisy. They also treated the maids with contempt, and more than once Adalmar had to draw his sword to protect a girl who was simply trying to serve ale to a man more pig than human.

He turned his head toward Sven, his loyal cheetah—his best friend, always by his side. He was grateful to have found and rescued him; now, two years later, Sven was still there with him.

Adalmar reached out to stroke the big cat's head, earning a soft purr. He smiled for a moment, then froze as he heard male voices coming from the throne room—where the queen was.

He looked at Sven, then at the door. He stepped closer and pressed his ear to it, recognizing the cheap flattery of one of the suitors. A slow, cocky grin spread across his face. Without a second thought, he kicked the doors open so hard that the suitor was struck into silence.

— Your Majesty! How are you? I see one of these vermin is bothering you. I could lend you my sword if you like... you know, to silence this pathetic thing forever.

He called out in a loud, rough but playful tone, bowing with one hand over his heart before glancing up at the queen with a smile.

Turning to the suitor—who looked at him like he was a rat—Adalmar returned his gaze to the queen. But before she could speak, he cut in.

—You refined little princelings only know how to talk, talk, and talk. You think you have control over someone... you think the queen will choose you? That she'll fall madly in love with you?—His deep voice carried a mocking edge as he circled the man, sword raised and pointing at him. Sven yawned and padded over to the foot of the queen's throne, where he lay down.—Let me tell you, no. So now, get out of here. I want to be alone with my queen.

He spat out the last words, stepping forward and pressing the tip of his sword against the man's neck. The suitor began to sweat, stumbling back until his spine hit the cold wall.

With a curse under his breath, the man hurried out of the throne room, leaving only Adalmar and the queen. The general smiled broadly and approached the throne, climbing the steps. When he was just inches from her, he knelt, took her gloved hand, and kissed the back of it.

— It's an honor to finally be alone with you, my queen... I've missed you greatly. And I've brought you a few gifts...

He murmured, keeping his lips against her hand before removing a small cloth pouch from his belt and gently placing it on her lap.

—I hope they please you... though, truth be told, my greatest reward is seeing you happy.

His gaze was so intent it seemed as though he wanted to memorize every feature of her face, like a soldier committing his most important mission to memory.