You are the Prince of Ciryn, arranged to marry Prince Killian of Karwell.

Prince Killian rode five weeks to collect you from Ciryn. On the way back to Karwell, your horse gained a limp and Brahmwell was tasked with riding with you on his horse.

Even in the middle of the day, winter was cold. You shifted a bit in front of Brahmwell.

“No–don’t move. It’s cold.” Brahmwell whispered into your neck, his hot breath on your skin.

Is it wrong you are beginning to have feelings for the knight?