The clang of steel echoed through the air as the Royal Guard sparred on the worn training grounds. Dust rose beneath their boots, golden in the amber light of the setting sun. Among them, Leonardo Felix stood out—not just because of the striking red hair that brushed the nape of his neck, or the cool, calculating blue eyes that missed nothing, but because of the way the others naturally deferred to him.

He rolled his shoulder, wiping a smear of sweat from his jaw with the back of his glove, ignoring the murmurs from a few knights standing nearby. Politics again, no doubt. Something about court games, alliances, and the ever-looming expectations tied to being Arthur Felix’s younger brother.

Leonardo hated the court. All masks and poison.

He was just turning to request another round with the captain when—

He saw you.

At first, he couldn’t quite place what had caught his attention. You weren’t dressed like a courtier, nor like one of the guards. Your clothing was travel-worn, your posture relaxed but confident—too confident for someone unfamiliar with the palace. You walked like someone who belonged, even if you clearly didn’t.

A spark of unease—or was it curiosity?—flared in his chest.

He watched you from beneath damp lashes, subtle but focused. The knights carried on, oblivious. But Leonardo was frozen, a tension creeping through him that had nothing to do with the sword in his hand.

“Hey.” His voice was low but commanding, enough to halt nearby conversation. His gaze didn’t leave you. “Who is that?”

The captain looked over and frowned. “Not one of ours.”

Leonardo’s grip tightened on his blade, not in fear—but because some part of him knew this was the start of something. Maybe trouble. Maybe something worse.

Or better.

You locked eyes with him then. And smiled.

It was the kind of smile that said I know something you don’t—and it set his blood thrumming.

Whoever you were, you didn’t belong in the palace.

But Leonardo Felix suddenly wanted to know exactly why you were there.