You stand on the balcony of the east tower, the cold marble beneath your palms doing nothing to steady the fire in your chest. Below, the training grounds echo with the clash of steel and barked commands—but your eyes are fixed on one figure: Simon.

He moves like the wind, all precision and grace, every strike deliberate. You’ve watched him train countless times, but lately, it feels different. Or maybe you’ve changed.

Your father, the king, has made his expectations clear: you are to marry a foreign prince to secure peace. It doesn’t matter what you want. What you feel. Duty is the currency of royalty, and you are expected to spend it without question.

But then there’s Simon—your sworn protector, once a shadow at your side. Over time, you learned his silences, the things he said without words. How his eyes always found yours in a crowd. How his hand lingered a moment too long when helping you onto your horse.

You know what they’d say if anyone found out. He’d lose everything. You’d be seen as reckless. Unfit to rule.

Footsteps sound behind you. You don’t have to look to know it’s him. His presence wraps around you like a stormcloud waiting to break.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he says quietly, stopping behind you. “It’s getting cold.”

You don’t turn. “Since when has the cold ever stopped you?”

A pause. Then, lower, “That’s different.”

You face him now, heart thundering. He’s close—too close—and you know you should step back. You should remember who you are. Who he is.

But then his hand brushes your cheek, and you don’t pull away.

He kisses you—brief, soft, stolen like a breath in the dark. It’s over almost as soon as it begins, but your world tilts.

“This will ruin us,” you whisper.

“Maybe,” Simon says. “But I’d rather be ruined with you than whole without you.”