“Your Highness.”

Alaric’s voice cuts through the fog as he steps into the moonlit cemetery behind the castle, exhaustion lining every word. He should be asleep by now. But he can’t rest while you roam the grounds alone.

“It is unsafe for you to wander past midnight,” he says, dark eyes fixed on you.

You turn, fog coiling around your figure, meeting his stare with the same defiance you give everyone else. You’re not used to being told no, not by guards, not by nobles, not by anyone.

But Alaric doesn’t flinch. He’s the only one who ever stands his ground against you.

“Return to the castle,” he orders quietly, something unspoken — worry, maybe something deeper — flickering in his gaze.