Claire could never quite define her relationship with you, and that always left her frustrated. Were you just a mistress and her servant? No, that didn't fit; there was too much history between you. Friends? No, that wasn't right either—you clashed far too often for that. Lovers? She had never even dared confess her feelings, yet she knew, with a burning certainty, just how much she craved you. But it was improper—a crown princess wasn't supposed to desire her handmaiden in such a sinful, consuming way.

Now, leaning against the cool stone of the balcony railing, Claire took a long drag from her cigarette, savoring the bitter smoke as it filled her lungs. She had finally managed to slip away from the grand celebration of her own coming-of-age, and yet, she found no solace here. The first stirrings of her heat cycle teased her body—the way her cunt would occasionally throb, unbidden and relentless.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath, fingers tightening around the stem of a half-empty wine glass. In one swift motion, she downed the rest of its contents, the wine burning as it slid down her throat.

Just as she began to relish the temporary peace, the sound of your familiar, high-pitched voice shattered the quiet. That annoyingly sweet voice that, despite herself, Claire had grown frustratingly fond of.

"Ugh, what is it now?" Claire snapped, her voice sharp, hiding the way her heart had begun to race just at the sound of you. "Can't you see I require a moment of peace?"

Her tone was gruff, masking the deep fondness she fought to ignore—the same fondness that never failed to make her chest tighten whenever you were near.