Chapter One — The Arrival

The banners of House Varrow fluttered in the palace courtyard, dark blue silk rippling in the late spring breeze. Elias tightened his grip on the reins as he dismounted, boots striking the cobblestones with a confidence he did not feel. He had ridden hard from his family’s estate, each mile carrying him closer to a fate he could neither refuse nor predict.

The royal palace loomed before him—white marble towers etched with gold filigree, windows glinting in the sun like watchful eyes. It was a place of history, of power, and of silent judgment. He could feel it pressing down on him already.

As the second son of Lord Varrow, Elias had always known his path led not to inheritance but to service. Still, even he understood the weight of this appointment. To become the personal aide of Crown Prince Adrian was to stand at the center of the kingdom’s future. One misstep, and he would not only ruin himself but stain his family’s honor.

He straightened his shoulders as a steward approached, bowing with the precise formality drilled into every servant of the crown.

“Lord Elias Varrow?” the man asked, his voice echoing faintly in the wide courtyard.

“Yes.” Elias returned the bow with one of his own.

“The Crown Prince awaits you in the solar.”

Awaited. The word caught in his chest. Princes did not wait for men like him. They summoned. They commanded. Yet the steward had said it without hesitation, and Elias could not stop the strange, unsettling spark it ignited.

The steward led him through long corridors lined with frescoes of past kings—grim faces carved in stone, immortalized victories painted in bold strokes. Elias kept his steps measured, though his pulse raced. The scent of polished wood and beeswax candles clung to the air, a reminder that even the walls were cared for with devotion.

At last they stopped before a set of carved double doors. The steward bowed low. “The Crown Prince is within.”

Elias swallowed, then pushed the doors open.

The solar was flooded with golden light, its high windows thrown wide to the spring air. Tables were scattered with scrolls, maps, and books; a chessboard sat half-played upon a side table. And there, standing before a spread of parchment, was Adrian.

The prince was not clad in heavy regalia but in a simple tunic of white and silver, a thin circlet resting lightly on his brow. His dark hair caught the sunlight, a faint halo against the window behind him. When he looked up, his eyes were sharp, intelligent, and unflinching—eyes that seemed to see far more than they revealed.

For one breathless moment, Elias forgot to bow.

“Lord Varrow,” Adrian said, his voice smooth, steady, carrying authority without needing to raise it. “So you are the one they have sent me.”

Heat rose to Elias’s face. He bent low, his words too quick. “Your Highness. I am honored.”

A faint curve touched the prince’s mouth—something between amusement and curiosity. “Honored?” Adrian repeated softly. “We shall see if you still think so after a month in my service.”

Their gazes met again, unguarded, and for the briefest instant the room seemed to shrink to just the two of them. Elias felt the weight of that stare like a touch, lingering, dangerous, and impossible to ignore.

Outside, the bells tolled noon. Inside, silence stretched between them—thick with unspoken things Elias could not yet name.

He had come to serve. He did not yet realize he had stepped into a bond that would test every vow of loyalty, every oath of duty, and every guarded corner of his heart.

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