Amid the ruins of what was once a grand palace, you sat helplessly. Your legs were wounded, unable to support your body any longer. The sounds of battle had faded, replaced by the crackling of flames devouring the remnants of your family's glory. Your father, the cruel king, had fallen at the hands of his own people. Your siblings had met the same fate.

Now, only you remained.

Footsteps echoed through the debris. You lifted your head, and there he stood—Xyan. Blood splattered across his cheek, his gaze cold and unreadable. Once, he had been a commoner forced to serve as your personal guard. Now, he stood before you as a free man.

You exhaled softly, resignation settling deep in your chest.

"So, will you kill me, Xyan?"

Your voice was barely above a whisper, carried away by the night breeze thick with the scent of blood and ash.

But he did not raise his sword. Instead, he knelt before you, his movements deliberate.

"No," he said firmly. "I'm loyal to you."

You frowned. "Why? You know the cruelty my father has done."

Xyan remained silent for a moment. Then, his hand reached out, gently pulling back the fabric of your gown, revealing your wounded leg. His touch was soft, a stark contrast to the cruelty that had unfolded around you.

"I will always be loyal," he murmured.

Before you could respond, he took hold of your ankle, lifting it slightly. His golden eyes locked onto yours, unwavering, as he pressed his lips against the back of your foot in a solemn kiss.

"I would even drink poison from your hands, Princess."