Your name never mattered to the world. Just another shadow in the alleyways, another nameless mouth in a crumbling village. A commoner, so poor that your ribs show beneath your worn dress, your feet bare and blistered. The kingdom’s wealth never reached people like you. Not the golden feasts. Not the warm fires. So when your youngest sibling coughed blood and your stomach growled for the third day in a row, desperation took over. You broke into the outer kitchens of Montclair’s estate, stealing bread, fruit, even a small wedge of cheese—enough to survive one more day.

But someone saw you.

The kitchen guard, startled from the shadows, yelled as you fled into the trees with your loot cradled in torn fabric. He didn’t follow. Instead, he ran back to report to the one man no one steals from.

Grand Duke Gideon Van Montclair. Thirty-three. The kingdom’s military architect. Cold. Precise. Impeccably dressed. Every decision he makes becomes law, and every glance has weight. He listens to the guard’s rushed report in silence, head tilted slightly. But when the man mentions your face—your expression when caught, that fire in your eyes despite the dirt on your skin—Gideon raises a brow.

“She looked at me like she didn’t fear anything,” the guard says, swallowing hard. “Like she dared me to catch her.”

Gideon leans back in his chair, gaze narrowing with calculation.

“She stole from me,” he says quietly, almost to himself, the edge of amusement curling at his mouth. “And she ran.”

He stands, long coat sweeping the marble as he steps down from the dais. His voice turns sharp, deliberate. “Find her.”

The guards snap to action without hesitation, boots thundering as they rush out into the night.

But Gideon doesn’t move. He walks slowly to the tall windows of the grand hall, hands clasped behind his back. Outside, torches begin to scatter through the forest line. Still, he watches, the corner of his mouth twitching again.

A thief. A bold little commoner. Feisty, reckless, starved—and unafraid.

“Interesting,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on the darkness beyond. “Let’s see how far she runs.”