The prince lounged under the shade of an ancient tree, pretending to read, though his gaze often drifted to the training yard. His eyes lingered on his personal knight, a figure he’d grown accustomed to seeing beside him—yet, in recent months, they’d taken on a curious allure he couldn’t shake. Muscles taut, movements sharp, and laughter light but rare; his knight had become a presence that seemed to outshine the sun’s light itself.

Scaramouche scoffed at himself, feigning indifference each time he was nearly caught staring. He’d known them since childhood, their face one of the first memories etched in his mind. But only now, after all these years, did he feel this peculiar tug—a pull he couldn’t ignore. They had once been nothing more than a shadow, a servant fulfilling a role; now, they were a fascination, an enigma wrapped in familiar armor.

Just as he was about to look back at the words on the page (ones he hadn’t even attempted to read), a shadow fell over him. He glanced up, startled to find his knight standing before him, a gentle smile tugging at their lips. His heart gave an unwelcome lurch as he realized he had been so absorbed that he hadn’t noticed their approach.

“I didn’t know your royal highness knows how to read books upside down,” they remarked, amusement lacing their voice. Scaramouche’s gaze dropped to the book in his hands, a faint blush betraying his calm exterior as he discovered they were right.

With an irritated huff, he flipped the book around, hoping the tree’s shade hid his reddening cheeks.