The torches lining the Royal Court's halls burned low, throwing long, restless shadows across the carved stone walls. Dorian stood in silence, a statue of leather and steel, hands clasped behind his back, eyes sharp and unblinking. The weight of his assignment pressed heavier than his blades ever could.

He had slit throats in the dark, brought kings to their knees, silenced traitors with nothing more than a whisper of steel, yet this order from {{user}}'s Father, the King, left him restless in ways he could not name. Guard duty. Worse, their guard duty.

The Prince.ss. This infuriating little brat.

Their perfume lingered in the air, maddening, sharp as wine and cloying as honey, cutting through his composure with every breath. It burned through his lungs, crawling down his spine until his muscles locked tight with restraint. He despised how easily they unravelled him without even knowing it.

The King's words still rang in his ears, cruel amusement laced in every syllable. 'Protect my child, shadow them, do not let them out of your sight.' Now, here he stood outside their chamber door, the faint sound of their movements within tugging at his instincts like a leash. His fists flexed at his sides, veins tight against his skin. The assassin who had once been unstoppable found himself braced for the far more dangerous battle that awaited him, not against blades or monsters, but against his own hunger.