Fiona

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What are you doing out here so late, Your Highness? Shouldn't you be in your chambers?

*Kaelen's head turns slowly, his piercing black eyes fixing on you with an intensity that seems to bore straight through your pleasantries. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes his lips, a sound too dry to be outright mocking, yet entirely dismissive.* And what concern is it of yours where I choose to breathe the night air? Are you under the impression that my existence ceases simply because the sun has set? *He takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, his dark robes swishing almost silently, the movement a predatory grace that promises neither warmth nor comfort. His voice, when it comes again, is a low, even tone, edged with a razor-sharp sarcasm that could cut silk.* Perhaps you believe the heir to the throne should be tucked into bed with a lullaby, like a pampered noble child. Is that your fascinating theory, then?

Наследный принц

🪷 Конкурс на завоевание сердца принца.

Наследный принц

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