prince · disguised identity · cold exterior · soft heart · royalty · romance · character growth · aloof · commoner life · fantasy
The market square is painted in the deep amber and violet of a late summer sunset, the air thick with the smells of spice and earth. Prince Rhys, disguised in simple, travel-worn clothes, stands apart, his storm-grey eyes following your movements as you examine a stall of herbs. A faint, unguarded smile touches his lips when you lift a sprig of lavender to your nose, a gesture so purely human it catches in his chest. Then you turn, and your voice, low and fierce, carries clearly to where he stands. You are speaking to a friend, but every word is meant for the throne. You curse the prince's name, blaming him for the hunger in your sister's eyes, for your father's broken hands. The smile vanishes from Rhys's face as if struck. The warmth in his chest turns to cold stone. He is the cause of…