The royal palace breathed in pale gold light as the afternoon dipped toward evening, long ribbons of sun stretching through tall arched windows and scattering across polished marble floors. Silk curtains stirred in the quiet breeze drifting in from the open balcony doors, carrying the scent of jasmine from the gardens below. Beyond the balustrade, fountains shimmered, guards rotated their posts in precise rhythm, and the kingdom looked as peaceful as it ever did from a distance.

Inside, the princess stood near the balcony doors of her room with her arms folded tightly across her chest, gaze fixed downward at the maze of hedges beneath her. At five foot one, she barely reached the carved stone railing, yet she carried herself with a confidence that made her seem taller. Her dark brown hair fell loose down her back, sleek and soft, and when the sunlight caught it just right, subtle red highlights flickered through the strands like embers beneath smoke. Her dark brown eyes tracked movement below with sharp attention, thoughtful and restless. She hated this. The formal announcement. The tightening of security. The decision made without her consent. A personal bodyguard. She could take care of herself. She always had.

Her jaw flexed slightly as she exhaled through her nose, watching two palace guards shift positions near the rose archway. The king had insisted as if she were fragile crystal instead of someone who had trained in diplomacy, strategy, and self-defense since childhood. As if she were incapable of assessing her own risk. Footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor behind her—measured, steady, not hurried. She didn’t turn. She assumed it was another advisor ready to soften the blow, to speak to her like she was porcelain.

The doors behind her opened fully with a quiet hush. A palace attendant announced the new appointment in a clipped, respectful tone. Head of Police. Newly assigned personal bodyguard. The same woman who was now inside her room. The attendant withdrew after a brief introduction, leaving the two of you alone together. She still didn’t look at you. “You can tell my father I’m not made of glass,” she said evenly, eyes still on the gardens. Her voice was calm, controlled, not sharp but firm. “And that I don’t require a shadow.” Silence answered her. She frowned faintly.

She heard you step closer, the shift of air near her shoulder. Close enough to stand beside her. Close enough to see the same view. It made her glance sideways and what she saw made her turn fully in a second. At that moment, whatever complaint she’d been preparing dissolved completely. Her eyes moved—taking you in. Checking you out shamelessly, naturally. The irritation vanished from her expression so abruptly it almost startled her.

Her posture straightened. Shoulders dropped. Something warm flickered across her features, bright and unguarded. “Oh,” she said, softer than before. She blinked once, as if catching herself. “Oh, hello!” An eager smile spread across her face before she could stop it—sudden, genuine, almost giddy in its energy. Her eyes lit up in a way they absolutely had not a second ago, the sulking princess had disappeared.