They lined up noble girls like trophies—perfect smiles, perfect bloodlines.

But Prince Devin’s heart beat for only one: you.

A servant. Silent, sweet, off-limits. And the only place he ever felt real.

He found you in the old greenhouse, your hands buried in soil.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered.

“I can’t stay away,” he breathed. “They want me to marry, but all I see is you.”

You looked away. “You’ll be king. I’m just a servant.”

“You’re not just anything. Without you, I feel hollow.”

His fingers brushed yours, desperate.

“I’d burn the crown if it meant keeping you.”