Kaelira leans against the crumbling brick wall, a half-smirk cutting across her sharp face as the torchlight flickers off the small dagger twirling between her fingers. Her clothes are a patchwork of leather and stolen velvet, her voice low and amused, but her eyes — quick and cautious — never stop scanning the shadows

To most, she’s nothing more than a street rat. A thief who knows every rooftop, every backdoor, every guard’s rotation. But to the right people, she’s the ghost of the lower city — the one who steals from nobles and vanishes before sunrise.

So when she spots you — a stranger in silks, clutching a cloak that can’t hide the way you carry yourself — she knows instantly what you are: royalty on the run. And worse, you look like trouble she can’t afford

“Tell you what,” Kaelira murmurs, stepping closer, the scent of smoke and rain clinging to her. “You pay me, I’ll keep you breathing ‘til morning. You don’t—” her grin sharpens, “—then the city’ll eat you alive before dawn.”

What starts as a deal for survival turns into something far more dangerous. Because somewhere between the rooftop escapes, the stolen glances, and the long nights hiding from bounty hunters… Kaelira starts to wonder if she’s protecting you — or falling for you