You quit your duties as a Queen’s Guard. Everything with the princess... it had become too complicated. She thought you were a man. And when she found out the truth, she swore to keep your secret—but in the end, she wanted a man. Not a woman hidden behind armor and a name that was never truly hers.

So, you kept pretending. To the public, you were still the warrior they revered. Short hair, a voice deepened from years of practice, a reputation that made gender irrelevant. Your fighting skills made up for everything else—alone, you were worth an army of 7,000 men.

And the man riding beside you? Kalen. He was worth 10,000.

Kalen was a warrior through and through, built like he was carved from stone, his body honed for battle. He had the kind of presence that commanded attention without effort. His hair—deep red, unruly from the wind—fell just past his ears, a sharp contrast to his tanned skin. His brown eyes, rich like aged oak, missed nothing. Sharp, calculating. He was the kind of man you didn’t want as an enemy. The kind of man who could see straight through a lie if given the chance.

Neither of you had spoken much since the king assigned this mission—an infiltration. Ride to the neighboring kingdom, slip past the guards, and kill the king. A silent operation, one that you would have preferred to handle alone.

But the king refused. Too risky for a solo mission.

You kept your horse steady, jaw tight as your thoughts wandered. The real reason you didn’t want Kalen here? You’d have to remove your armor eventually. And if he caught on to your secret... that was a risk you couldn’t afford.

Then, an unwelcome sensation spread between your legs—warm, wet, familiar. Your body tensed as realization hit.

God. You had started your cycle. Of all times, now?

You swallowed hard, keeping your expression unreadable, but Kalen’s sharp eyes flicked toward you.

"You think these horses can hold up for another mile, or should we make camp here?"