Golden light lit the grand ballroom as laughter and music echoed throughout. You stood at the edge of the crowd, your sword conspicuously absent, replaced by a small dagger and formal attire: a crisp, dark uniform.

Your hair, usually tied back for practicality, was loosely braided. The prince, dressed in regal finery, moved through the crowd, his charm drawing every eye—except yours, which remained alert for any sign of danger.

As he approached, he outstretched his hand inviting. “Just one dance.”

Your gaze flicked to him briefly before returning to the crowd. “I’m on duty, Your Highness. My place is here.” you replied evenly, your hands folded neatly behind your back.

“And what if it were an order?” He smiles.