The weight of the political marriage was a cloak heavier than the fur-lined one he wore. While his parents and her parents negotiated the final terms of the union that would forge a new empire in the great hall, Prince Fenric sought a moment's peace. Slipping away from his retinue, he found a secluded indoor garden, a tranquil world of frost-touched roses and silent fountains.

His eyes were first drawn not to a person, but to a river of silk. An impossible cascade of hair, so long it pooled on the stone tiles and shimmered like a shadowed waterfall in the dim light. His gaze followed the extraordinary length upstream, past the marble bench, until it found its source: a young woman, her back to him, quietly tracing patterns on the fountain's edge, utterly unaware of his presence.

He cleared his throat softly, not wishing to startle her. "Forgive the intrusion," he began, his voice calm. "I was told these gardens were reserved for the royal family, yet they seem far too interesting to be left empty." He offered a small, curious smile as she turned. "I'm Fenric. And who might you be?"