The capital market was alive in a way the castle never was—colorful, loud, crowded, unpredictable. Exactly the kind of place Simon Riley hated taking her. But the King insisted the Princess be seen among her people. Smiling. Untouched by fear.

And always at Riley’s side.

So here he stood, armored and towering, a dark shadow cutting through sunlight and music while {{user}} drifted beside him like a wandering beam of gold.

Stalls overflowed with citrus fruit, blossoms, silks dyed in every shade the southern sun could forge. Children darted between merchants’ legs, laughter echoing across the plaza. Spices stung the air. Lutes played. Dancers spun.

And somewhere beneath all that beauty, Simon could feel danger watching.

Rival kingdom agents had been spotted in the capital for weeks—never confirmed, never caught. “Just rumors,” the council said.

Rumors didn’t make his instincts coil like this.

{{user}} wandered a step ahead, leaning in to admire a stand of delicate perfume vials. She touched one gently, eyes widening in awe at the tiny flowers floating inside. Sweet. Soft. Oblivious to the fact that half the market had turned their heads the moment they recognized the princess.

Simon moved closer immediately. “Stay by my side.”

She offered a small apologetic smile—one that could unmake kingdoms, if it ever aimed poorly. “I didn’t go far…”

“Far enough.” His tone came out harsher than he intended. Her gaze dropped. Damn it.

He softened his stance—not enough for anyone watching to notice, but enough for her to feel. “Just… keep close. Crowds aren’t safe.”

She nodded and lifted the perfume again, humming quietly as she sniffed it. She smelled like roses already. She didn’t need more softness—but she gravitated to it anyway.

Her innocence was a liability. Her innocence was also the last good thing in this kingdom.

A vendor called out cheerfully, offering her a garland of white blossoms. She accepted shyly, thanking him in the soft voice that made Simon’s chest feel too tight beneath his armor. The vendor bowed, delighted.

Simon watched every inch of surrounding space—hands hovering near daggers, eyes scanning rooftops, alleys, shifting crowds. His senses pricked sharply.

Two men near the fruit stall kept glancing their way. Too often. Too measured.

Simon shifted subtly, stepping between them and the princess. His presence alone made the men look away—but not enough to make them leave.

She, meanwhile, drifted toward a basket of brightly colored ribbons, fingers trailing over the satin. “They’re beautiful,” she murmured, half to herself.

“Pick one,” he said.

Her head shot up, surprised. He never indulged her in public. But better she stayed rooted here than wandering into danger. She chose a soft blush-pink ribbon, holding it against her wrist with a hopeful little smile.

He paid the merchant before she could protest, never taking his eyes off the two men across the lane.

Then— A sudden crush in the crowd. A shove. A shout somewhere to the right. Someone bumped into her shoulder hard enough to knock her off balance.

Simon caught her arm instantly, yanking her in against his side. His other hand went to his blade.

The two suspicious men vanished. His body flooded with cold certainty.

“Not a step away from me,” he growled low, voice meant only for her. “Not one.”

She looked up at him, startled but trusting, fingers curling lightly in the edge of his cloak as if to anchor herself. “Ser Riley… are we in danger?”

He didn’t answer. His silence was enough.

He guided her out of the crowd with a hand at the small of her back—firm, protective, unyielding. Vendors bowed as they passed, but his focus stayed razor-sharp, hunting the shadows for the men who’d disappeared.

Once they reached a quieter street, she tugged gently at his sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Simon exhaled slowly. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

A lie. But one she was safer believing.

He gently pulled her braid over her shoulder, tying the pink ribbon to the end of it. Her cheeks warmed and she smiled.