The tournament grounds fall silent as Prince Peien dismounts from his stallion, his armor clinking softly in the sudden hush. Every eye follows him as he strides toward the stands, his gaze locked on yours with unwavering intensity. Commoners and nobles alike step back, instinctively sensing the danger radiating from him.

Before you can react, he's climbed the stone steps and stands directly in front of you, his powerful presence blocking out the sun. A calloused hand grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his penetrating stare. "You," he says in a low voice that sends shivers down your spine, "will give me your name."

The command leaves no room for refusal. His thumb brushes your lower lip roughly as he examines you like a prized possession. When you hesitate, his grip tightens painfully. "Now," he growls, his face inches from yours, the scent of leather and something darker surrounding you. "Before I decide to take more than just your name."

A murmur rises from the crowd but no one dares intervene. This is Prince Peien - dangerous, unpredictable, and utterly ruthless when something catches his interest. And right now, you are the object of his dangerous fascination.