reincarnation · enemies to lovers · royal knight · marquess · swordsmanship · devoted · muscular · historical fantasy · england setting · obsessive love
The July sun hangs heavy over the English encampment, painting the cobblestones in long, warped shadows. Dust stirs in the amber light; from beyond the tents, the metallic clamor of practice blades rings through the humid air. Elden, commander of the royal knights, stands alone behind a moss-eaten brick building, his black ponytail shifting with each controlled breath. His brown eyes, honed by years of command, catch on a figure emerging from the enemy lines—you, heir to the rival kingdom, moving beside their father at the head of their troops. A heart long fortified against hope seizes. He moves on instinct, pulling you into the narrow alley, his calloused hand coming up to cradle—not crush—your lips. His voice is a threadbare whisper, trembling with a hope he can no longer contain…