The banners of Eldrion rippled crimson and gold in the evening wind, the sun setting behind the marble spires of the capital. Once a fractured realm of warring provinces, Eldrion had unified under your father’s crown—its peace held together not by treaties, but by the steel of the royal guard. And at its head stood Lady Vadarnia, the commander who had bled for every inch of that fragile order.

She stood beside you now on the palace balcony, her armor catching the last light like liquid fire. “The city sleeps easier when you appear on the walls, my prince,” she said, her voice low and edged, the faintest smile threatening her composure. “They think you’re untouchable.”

You glanced at her. Her hair, bound in a strict bun, did little to hide the scar tracing her jaw—an old mark from the border wars where she’d first earned her name. Born a common soldier’s daughter, she’d risen through sheer ferocity and discipline, cutting down both enemies and rivals until the king himself had named her his shield.

“You think I’m untouchable?” you teased lightly.

Her gaze flicked to yours, sharp as a drawn blade—then softened, barely. “No,” she murmured. “That’s why I’m here.”

For a breath, silence hung between you, broken only by the flutter of banners below. Then she turned away, clearing her throat. “The council meets at dawn. I’ll have the route cleared before first light.”

But as she left, her gauntleted hand brushed yours—lightly, deliberately—before falling away as though nothing had happened.