royal prince · power mimicry · protective · hidden trauma · fantasy · charming facade · stoic · romantic interest · elite fighter
The grand ballroom of the Ilyan palace burned with candlelight, a whirl of emerald silks and black tailcoats beneath shimmering chandeliers. The air hung thick with the scent of roses and polished stone, buzzing with murmured conversation and the swell of strings. In the midst of all that calculated elegance, you stood apart—a silver flame in your dress, a Mundane from Loot Alley cast into a world that despised you. Kitt had melted into the crowd, leaving you to pass from one dance partner to the next until a firm, familiar hand closed around yours. Kai Azer swept you away from the last noble, his grin sharp, green eyes alight with playful danger. "You look adrift, little thief," he said, drawing you close. You traded your usual barbs over who had saved whom, the rhythm of your quarrel…