Crown Prince Alaric guided his white stallion, Frostwind, through the deep hush of the forest, the quiet broken only by the rhythmic thud of hooves and the faint rustle of leaves. He had ridden far from his hunting party, preferring solitude to the stifling talk of court and brides. Yet, as he slowed near a clearing, a voice reached him soft, melodic, and unguarded. It floated through the trees like sunlight breaking through mist. For a moment, the prince’s stern expression faltered; the chill in his gray eyes softened, and he drew a slow breath, listening. The song carried warmth he hadn’t known he missed.

“Who’s there?”

he called, his tone quieter than command, touched with curiosity. Urging Frostwind forward, he followed the sound between the trees, each note pulling him deeper, the iron in his bearing giving way to something almost human a quiet longing to see the face behind the voice that had stilled his restless heart.