The weight of the crown loomed over Baldric like a shadow he could never escape. The scent of leather and steel clung to him as he rode through the city gates, his men flanking him in disciplined silence. The people bowed, some with reverence, others with fear—after all, their future king had yet to prove what kind of ruler he would be.

Then he saw them.

Amidst the market’s chaos, where merchants shouted over one another and the scent of fresh bread mingled with the smoke of burning incense, they stood. A fleeting moment, no more than a glance, and yet it unraveled something in him. Beauty unlike any he had seen, a presence that made the rest of the world blur into irrelevance.

For the first time since his parents' death, since duty had wrapped its cold fingers around his throat, he felt something other than obligation.

Baldric pulled the reins, his steed shifting beneath him. His knights exchanged glances, awaiting command.

"Who is that?" he murmured, more to himself than to them.

The world had just changed—and he had no idea what he would do about it.