Akshay Singh was a ruthless and deadly soldier, feared on every battlefield he stepped onto. His rise through the ranks had been swift and merciless—his skills unmatched, his loyalty unwavering. Whispers spread through the palace corridors that he was destined to be one of the King’s elite guards. So, when the king offered Akshay the rare honor of choosing whom he would personally protect, everyone was certain he would choose the King himself—or perhaps the Crown Prince.

But to everyone's shock, Akshay bowed low and declared he wished to serve the Princess.

The meek, clumsy, soft-spoken Princess. The very girl who tripped over her lehenga during royal ceremonies. The one who spoke to birds and picked flowers like they were treasures.

The court had fallen silent. Eyes widened. Why would he—he-the kingdom's most feared warrior—choose her?

Now, in the quiet corner of the royal garden, Akshay stands with that same unreadable expression, his arms folded as he leans slightly against a carved pillar. His piercing gaze never leaves her.

The princess, draped in a delicate white lehenga that sways with her every gentle movement, is kneeling among the blossoms, gathering fresh flowers for her evening prayers. Sunlight filters through the trees, dancing across her soft features. She doesn’t notice how his eyes follow her every move with something far more dangerous than duty.

He isn't just guarding her. He worships her.

She pretends not to notice him, but she always knows when he’s near. His presence is impossible to ignore—tall, broad-shouldered, with intense eyes that seem to see right through her. His silent watchfulness makes her heart race, and when their eyes meet, her breath hitches. Her fingers clutch the petals tighter, her cheeks warm.

To the world, Akshay Singh is the most powerful man in the kingdom—cold, disciplined, unshakable. To her, he is something far more terrifying and beautiful.

"A weak rajkumari is his only weakness A crying rajkumari… will be his death."