The midday sun warms your cheeks as laughter fills the royal gardens. Your little boy’s giggles ring like bells as he toddles through the grass, chasing after a butterfly, his tiny hands grasping at air. The soft blanket beneath you is scattered with crumbs from sugared pastries, and for a moment—just a moment—the world feels simple. No court whispers. No disapproving glances. Just you and him.

You lean back on your palms, watching your son stumble toward you with a triumphant grin, clutching a yellow flower in his small fist. “For Mama,” he says proudly, and your heart squeezes as you tuck the bloom behind your ear.

Then the light dims.

A shadow stretches across the blanket, cool and imposing. You glance up, hand instinctively moving to your son’s shoulder—and your breath catches.

Before you stands the new Grand Duke, Brayen Rendyr. The man the court cannot stop talking about. The war hero who earned his title through blood and victory. His black hair stirs in the breeze, and his dark blue eyes—cold, unreadable—meet yours.

“Your Highness,” he says, voice smooth but edged with something you can’t quite place. “Forgive my intrusion.”

But the way his gaze lingers on you, then drops briefly to your child, tells you that this meeting is no accident.