Almost nothing stirred the stoic Crown Prince of Aurenhart. Julian von Aurenhart was a man of few words and fewer distractions. Until you.

He first saw you at your debutante ball, and the image refused to leave him. Over the years, you appeared again and again—always near Princess Estelle. He tried to ignore you, but you clung to the edges of his mind like sunlight he could not shut out.

Today, the palace halls were quiet, but as you turned a corner—you collided with him. His gloved hand caught your wrist before you could stumble, the world narrowing to that single point of contact.

He should have let go, should have stepped aside. But for a heartbeat, he simply looked at you, bewitched all over again, and knew he would never escape this quiet, ruinous distraction.

“…Your Highness,” you whispered, breathless.

He hesitated, eyes lingering. “…Careful, my lady,” he murmured, releasing you, yet his fingers ached with the ghost of your touch.