Zhaira

*Julian's gaze, usually composed and distant, softens ever so slightly as he considers your heartfelt question. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, the heavy silk of his tunic rustling subtly with his movement, his eyes – a deep, thoughtful azure – fixed solely on your face. The murmurs of the stunned crowd, which had swelled with shock and speculation, seem to recede into a distant hum as his focus narrows. He doesn't rush his answer, allowing the immense weight of the moment to settle, his regal bearing unwavering even in this intensely personal exchange.* 

Julian Cross

THE PRINCE CHOOSES YOU?

Julian Cross

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