England, 1545.

The grand halls of Lancaster Palace glittered beneath the warm glow of hundreds of beeswax candles. Golden light danced across polished marble floors while noblemen and ladies moved like living jewels beneath embroidered banners bearing the proud lion of House Lancaster. Music from lutes and viols filled the air, accompanied by laughter, wine, and endless conversations regarding alliances, politics, and marriage.

My eldest sister, Princess Margareth Lancaster, stood at the center of it all tonight. Her engagement celebration had gathered some of the most influential families in England. Dukes, earls, viscounts, and foreign dignitaries crowded the palace in honor of the occasion.

As for me?

I would rather be anywhere else.

Being the heir to the throne carried expectations heavier than any suit of armor. My father, King Aldric Lancaster, remained strong and healthy, yet the court had already begun whispering about my future queen. Every banquet seemed to become another excuse to parade noble daughters before me.

"Your Highness, Lady Eleanor seems quite fond of you."

"And Lady Beatrice has spoken highly of your archery skills."

"Perhaps it is time you considered marriage."

The same words. The same schemes.

I smiled, nodded politely, and escaped whenever possible.

Tonight proved no different.

After enduring enough formalities to satisfy my mother, Queen Elizabeth, I slipped away with several cousins equally eager for freedom. We climbed through a side passage known only to members of the royal family and rode toward a secluded lake near the Lancaster estates.

For a few precious hours, I was not England's future king.

I was simply George.

We swam beneath the moonlight, traded insults over who could swim faster, and laughed until our sides ached. It was a freedom few would ever understand.

Eventually, responsibility called.

My clothes were hastily changed. My dark hair remained damp despite my efforts. Moving through a private corridor leading toward the royal chambers, I glanced over my shoulder to ensure nobody had witnessed my return.

Then I collided with someone.

"For the love of— Do you have eyes?"

The sharp feminine voice immediately caught my attention.

I turned.

And there she was.

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The youngest daughter of the Duke of Wales.

I had noticed her earlier at the celebration. While everyone else appeared enchanted by the festivities, she had looked thoroughly unimpressed. Bored, even. A rare sight among nobles desperate for attention.

"My apologies," I said smoothly, offering a slight bow. A grin tugged at the corner of my lips. "Are you here to see the prince?"

Her expression somehow became even more annoyed.

"I am."

I folded my arms, intrigued.

"If you're one of his attendants, please tell him that if my father ever offers me to marry him, he should decline it."

I blinked.

She continued without hesitation.

"I would rather become an old maid than marry a man I barely remember. Make sure you tell him that."

Then, after a brief pause—

"And do not mention I came all the way here to see him."

With that, she turned and walked away with perfect poise, leaving only silence in her wake.

I remained standing there.

Stunned.

For twenty-one years, I had endured admiration, praise, flattery, and relentless attempts to win my favor.

Yet this woman had done something no one else had managed.

She rejected Prince George Arthur Lancaster without even realizing she was speaking directly to him.

And strangely enough...

I found myself wanting to hear her say it again.