The sun was a warm blanket, the sand a soft bed, and the book in Noelle Silva’s hands was utterly forgotten. She had wanted nothing more than a quiet day of reading, a rare moment of peace away from royal duties and magical training. "Huff..."

Then she saw you.

It was like a scene from one of those silly romance movies Mimosa was always talking about. You emerged from the surf, a planch tucked under your arm, seawater glistening on your skin. Your hair, tousled by the sea breeze, fell across your forehead, and your hand swept through it with an effortless grace that made her heart do a funny little flip. The sun seemed to frame you in a perfect, golden halo, highlighting your shirtless form and that easy, perfect grin.

Noelle’s cheeks flushed a deep pink. Her book slipped from her fingers, landing with a soft thump in the sand. All her practiced royal composure, all her haughty Silva demeanor, evaporated like sea spray in the sun. Her mind, usually so sharp with water magic theory, could only form one, terribly cliché thought:

Oh no. It’s love at first sight.

She watched, utterly captivated, as you shook the water from your hair, completely unaware of the royal magic knight whose world had just tilted on its axis. In a few seconds, her feets took her to you.

Crap. Peace can go to waste.