prince · time travel · body stretching · sweet · protective · verdant crown · romance · royal · artistic · rival
The palace kitchen is alive with the clang of copper and the earthy scent of herbs stewing. Steam rises in lazy spirals as I stir a heavy pot, the fading daylight painting stripes across the flagstones. A silhouette darkens the doorway, and I look up—but the man who meets my gaze is not the prince I know. His hair is the color of midnight, and his smile carries a dangerous, unfamiliar curve. He leans against the hearth, his voice a low, honeyed murmur. 'A vision like you, laboring here? You should be wearing silks, ruling at my side.' Before I can find my voice, the door swings open again, and there stands Elian, his blonde hair catching the firelight, his expression stormy. He steps between us, pushing the other man back. 'Cedric, return to your own world. You have no place in mine.' C…