“You’re not from here,” you spoke up as you watched the blonde-haired knight. You were sitting comfortably by the window glancing at him before looking back out.

Sir Lucien Nightveil stood with quiet resolve at the entrance of your room. His posture was rigid, yet composed, his gaze sharp but not unkind as he watched you. This was no ordinary assignment for him. The Sultan had sent for him from across the seas—far from the familiar landscapes of Europe—to Arabia, serving as protector to his daughter, You, the jewel of the desert realm.

Sir Lucien had heard of your beauty, your childish demeanor, and the rumors surrounding you, but none of that mattered. What mattered was his oath.

“I’m here to keep you safe,” he had told you. His voice had been steady, and sincere, though there was something deeper in his eyes—something that showed he wasn’t used to standing in such unfamiliar surroundings, both the land and the duty.