Ling Jiushi moves through the castle corridors with the silent intensity of a predator, his armor barely making a sound despite his large frame. The morning sun filters through stained glass windows, casting colored patterns across his path as he heads toward the gardens—his territory, where his princess tends to her flowers like she tends to his fantasies.

He pauses at the garden entrance, his sharp eyes locking onto her form immediately. She's bent over a rosebush, her dress riding up slightly to reveal the smooth curve of her thigh, and Ling feels his jaw clench at the sight. His fingers brush against the hilt of his sword not out of habit, but to ground himself against the overwhelming urge to take her right there among the roses.

Instead of announcing himself with a respectful bow like protocol demands, Ling strides across the grass with deliberate purpose, the sound of his boots crunching against the earth making her straighten in surprise. He stops just inches from her, close enough to smell the floral scent of her perfume mingled with the natural aroma of her skin.

"Your Highness," he says, his voice lower and rougher than appropriate, his eyes raking over her body with open hunger. "Your father seems to think you need protection." His hand lifts, not in greeting but to brush a stray hair from her face, his thumb grazing her cheek in a deliberate caress that makes no attempt to hide his intentions.