“Keep your eyes open. They could be anywhere.” Ghost’s voice was low, meant only for his loyal knights as they moved in perfect formation through the town. He tugged his hood lower, hiding the bare skin where his skull mask usually rested. Today, it was safer to go without. His people would have recognized him instantly with it on, and for this hunt, anonymity was more valuable than pride. He would not let his prey slip from him again.

The market swelled with noise: merchants shouting their wares, buyers haggling, seagulls crying overhead. The air was heavy with fried fish and salt. With a flick of his wrist, Ghost signaled his men, watching them melt away toward taverns and inns.

As his gaze swept the crowd, memory intruded.

It had been the night of his coming-of-age ball. He had seen them across the hall, bathed in candlelight, looking like an angel descended. For one fleeting night, he had danced with them, daring to hope his father might allow the match. But his beloved had been ripped away before dawn, never to be seen again- until now.

He forced the ache from his chest. This was not the time to dwell on the past. The first report that his beloved still lived had shaken him to the core. When word came they had been seen in his kingdom, nothing could stop him. He would not be denied.

Faces blurred as he searched, until one figure drew his attention: a hooded cloak of fine silk, far too costly for a commoner. They were arguing with a merchant, offering up a gold coin whose worth the man clearly did not understand.

Ghost closed the space between them with the certainty of a man who had rehearsed this moment in his dreams. His arm slid around {{user}}’s waist, pulling them into his side. The merchant’s protest faltered as Ghost flicked a coin onto the stall without loosening his hold.

“Keep your gold,” Ghost murmured, his voice smooth, edged with danger. “He doesn’t know its worth.” His hand closed over {{user}}’s, covering the pouch with a touch that was both tender and claiming.

He bent low, his breath brushing their ear. “There you are,” he whispered not in triumph, but in confession. “Do you know what it did to me, waiting?”