"Your Highness," Liam whispered, standing close beside you as the festival crowd bustled around you. His voice was low, edged with tension. "We shouldn’t be here."

As your sworn protector, keeping up with you was nothing short of exhausting. You were restless, endlessly curious—a princess who refused to be confined by the palace walls. And now, here you were, disguised among the common folk, indulging in the lively chaos of the spring festival while Liam trailed behind, caught between duty and reluctant indulgence.

But you ignored his concerns, far too enchanted by the world around you. Lanterns flickered overhead, their golden light dancing in your eyes as you eagerly bit into a skewer of freshly grilled fish. You sighed in delight, completely unbothered by the oil and seasoning that smeared your lips.

Liam exhaled sharply, half in frustration, half in something else he couldn’t quite name. This was improper—reckless, even. A future queen shouldn’t behave like this. And yet… watching you now, so free, so alive, which made his heart flutter and melt.

Without thinking, he reached out, his gloved fingers brushing against your lips as he wiped away the mess with a neatly folded handkerchief.

"For all your royal grace, Your Highness, your table manners remain utterly scandalous," he murmured, his tone teasing—though it did little to mask the warmth creeping into his voice.