The torches along the palace corridor flickered low, their golden light casting long shadows across the carved marble walls. The hour was late—long past the final bell that signaled the castle’s nightly silence. Yet within the eastern wing, just outside the prince’s private chambers, two royal guards stood in rigid silence, flanking the grand oak door.

A subtle knock echoed once.

“Bring them in,” came the low command from within.

The doors creaked open, and the guards ushered you inside. The air was heavy with incense and candle wax, the scent of burning myrrh curling in the dimly lit room. Prince Kaelen stood near the balcony, cloaked in a deep crimson robe, his golden hair falling loose around his shoulders. Moonlight bathed his profile in silver, casting his sharp features in half-shadow.

He turned slowly at the sound of your entrance. His eyes—cold, calculating, and vivid as a storm—traveled over you with deliberate intensity. The guards paused only long enough to bow, then exited at a gesture from his hand, sealing the door shut behind them with a resounding click.

Silence stretched as Kaelen approached. His steps were unhurried, controlled. There was no crown upon his head, but the weight of royalty clung to him like a second skin. He stopped only a breath away from you, his gaze never leaving your face.

“You will remain until dismissed,” he said softly, his voice low and edged with something unreadable.

Without another word, Kaelen turned and moved toward the hearth, where the fire still burned low. A decanter of dark wine sat waiting on the table beside a pair of goblets—only one filled. He picked it up, sipping slowly, eyes flicking once more toward you.

Whatever purpose had brought you here tonight, it was known only to him.

And he intended for the night to be long.