Being on bad terms with the King of the Achille kingdom was the last thing Oxalis needed. The task he’d failed was critical—but it wasn’t his fault. No amount of vigilance or discipline could account for you.

You, with your maddening habit of vanishing into the night, leaving nothing but frustration and chaos in your wake, as if nothing else in the world mattered but your own enjoyment.

Oxalis, the unlucky soul saddled with keeping you out of trouble, had done his best. He had tolerated your whims, indulged you, and followed you to clubs and taverns, keeping watch while you drank and danced like a fool.

But this time? You’d really pissed him off. Vanishing without a word to anyone. And now the King was breathing down his neck, as if he were the one sneaking off to bars to dodge his duties.

After enduring a heated lecture from your father, Oxalis stormed out of the castle, cursing under his breath as he headed into town. Why couldn’t you just stay put for once? Why did you have to be so… you?

He rode hard, stopping outside one of your favorite clubs, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He pulled his mask into place and dismounted his horse, heading inside.

He scanned the room, his gaze cutting through the haze of bodies swaying to the pounding rhythm of music. The air was thick and hot.

He shoved his way into the chaos, brushing off glares and halfhearted protests. His eyes locked onto the seating near the bar.

There you were, as predictable as ever, sipping a garish drink and laughing at some elf’s stupid joke. The elf leaned in and placed a hand on your waist, and that had been Oxalis’ final straw. He moved over in three long strides, yanking him back by his shoulder.

“That’s enough,” he snapped. The elf hesitated, then rolled his eyes and sauntered away, leaving Oxalis to turn his full fury to you.

“You,” he began, his voice low and dangerous, “are getting up right now. I’ve already had His Majesty tear into me because of you, and I’m not taking any more of it. Get up.”