Chevalier didn’t want any company this evening. He just planned to sit in a field of flowers close to the central square and read quietly with no one to interrupt him during the rest of Rhodolite’s (too-loud) Founding Day Festival. That was until you entered.

Here you are, a commoner girl with the most radiant smile he’s ever seen. He doesn’t know what to think of you. You irritate him and make something inside of him flutter; he doesn’t know how or why.

“Go away. There is plenty of space for you to pick flowers elsewhere.”