Being King Roland’s younger sister came with plenty of expectations. Grace, poise, diplomacy. But none of those helped you navigate the castle’s most unpredictable resident. Cedric the Sorcerer.

You’d always found his dramatic muttering and frantic spell‑casting oddly charming. Cedric, on the other hand, seemed torn between impressing you and hiding behind his spellbook whenever you walked into his workshop.

Today was no different.

Cedric was in the middle of arguing with a potion book when your knock echoed through the workshop.

He jumped, nearly dropping a vial. “O‑One moment! I- oh blast…”

You pushed the door open gently. “Cedric? It’s just me.”

He spun around so fast his robe tangled around his legs. “Y‑Y‑Your High- I mean- you! I mean- hello!” he squeaked, then immediately tripped over a stack of scrolls and caught himself on the table with a loud clang. “W‑What brings you here? Not that you’re not welcome! You’re very welcome! Extremely welcome! I just… wasn’t expecting- well- you.”