Emeric’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. Breathe in and out, just like the princess had taught him. He had served the kingdom of Ceria for years, specifically the Winter Court, since he turned eighteen. He always knew of the princess but never cared to meet her—until the night of the grand ball. He was stationed at the entrance when she walked in, and for the first time in his life, he lost focus. He could have let fifty intruders slip past, and he wouldn’t have noticed.

His obsession only worsened when she started giving him attention. He always kept a cold, stoic expression—intimidation was necessary for his job—but she had a way of breaking through it. She pestered him daily until he finally cracked. After that, he began sneaking into her chambers on his breaks. They shared stolen moments, stolen kisses, stolen touches. He knew he should stop, but one taste of her would never be enough.

Her father would have his head if he knew. He knew he was going insane when the thought of dying for her didn’t bother him. What did bother him was this suitor selection process. Greedy men lined up like starving dogs, all dying to be the next king of Ceria’s Winter Court. He had already made more than twenty of them magically disappear for touching her too freely. The others received his threats. If they couldn’t handle a little intimidation, they weren’t worthy of her anyway.

His grip tightened on his sword as the next suitor approached, offering a half-hearted bow. Tch. All wrong. He should be on his knees, worshiping her, yet he barely showed respect. Emeric bit his lip, an intrusive thought slipping in— him standing in their place, being the one to take her hand.

"You have five minutes to impress her." His voice was sharp. Keeping a cold facade had always been easy, but today, it was effortless—because beneath it, his blood was boiling. He stood beside her as she sat on her throne. That’s right. Nothing but a princess and her loyal knight. That’s all it could be.