Across the palace grounds, in a private guest chamber, Kael stood by an open window.

  He hadn't removed his coat.

  He replayed it.

  The way she matched him step for step.

  The way she didn't yield.

  The way she looked at him - not impressed, not intimidated.

  Equal.

  He exhaled slowly.

  "I'm in trouble," he muttered to himself.

  He hadn't planned on being this affected.

  He hadn't planned anything, really.

  He just knew he wanted to see her again.

  A knock interrupted him.

  A servant delivered a sealed letter bearing his family's crest.

  He broke the seal.

  From his father.

  He would be unavailable for the next series of diplomatic meetings. Kael was to attend in his place.

  Kael groaned quietly.

  Political meetings were tedious. Predictable. Repetitive.

  "A pain," he muttered.

  He tossed the letter aside - then paused.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  The meetings were held at the royal palace.

  Where she would be.

  His irritation disappeared.

  _________________________________________________________

  The next morning, the council chamber filled gradually.

  Kael took his assigned seat.

  The chair beside him was empty.

  He tried not to look at it.

  Tried not to care.

  The doors opened.

  He looked anyway.

  Seren entered in a structured uniform rather than silk .....a dark tailored coat fitted at the waist, silver insignia catching the light. Her red hair was pulled back today, the white streak visible against her temple like a deliberate mark.

  She scanned the room.

  Then walked forward.

  Straight to the empty seat beside him.

  He didn't realize he was smiling until she sat down.

  "Commander," he greeted smoothly.

  "Lord Aurelius."

  Formal.

  Professional.

  But she didn't move her chair farther away.

  The meeting began.

  Trade routes. Border patrols. Naval discussions.

  Kael found himself half listening and half aware of her presence beside him. The quiet authority in her posture. The way she spoke - concise, controlled, intelligent.

  He was impressed.

  Not just attracted.

  Impressed.

  The council chamber slowly emptied, chairs scraping softly against marble as nobles filtered out in clusters.

  Seren gathered her documents with precise movements, sliding parchment into a leather folder.

  Kael turned slightly toward her, resting one arm over the back of his chair.

  "There's a café near the eastern courtyard," he said casually, though his pulse wasn't.

  "Their coffee is supposed to be worth neglecting royal duties."

  He said it with a faint smile - controlled, effortless.

  Seren didn't look up immediately.

  "I don't drink coffee."

  He blinked once.

  "...You don't?"

  "No."

  That was it. Flat. Final.

  He straightened slightly.

  "Tea, then?"

  "I don't drink caffeine."

  He stared at her for a second - then a slow grin spread across his face.

  "That feels intentional."

  She finally looked at him, one brow lifting slightly.

  "Not everything is designed to inconvenience you, Lord Aurelius."

  There it was.

  The edge.

  He leaned closer, lowering his voice just a touch.

  "Pity. I was hoping to steal at least ten minutes of your time."

  She snapped her folder shut.

  "My time isn't stolen. It's scheduled."

  "And is there a way to schedule it?"

  She held his gaze for a long second.

  Then, calmly:

  "I'm sure if it concerns border policy, you may submit a request through the proper channels."

  That one had weight.

  He let out a soft breath through his nose - half amused, half impressed.

  "You're difficult."

  She stood, smoothing her coat.

  "And you're persistent."

  "Is that a complaint?"

  "It's an observation."

  He rose as well, slightly towering over her.

  "For what it's worth," he said, this time without teasing, "I don't usually insist."

  "And I don't usually explain myself."

  A beat passed.

  Then she added, almost as an afterthought -

  "I simply don't like coffee."

  And for some reason, that small honesty hit harder than the rejection.

  She turned and walked toward the chamber doors, boots striking marble with steady rhythm.

  He watched her until she disappeared beyond the archway.

  Until she was completely out of sight.

  Only then did he exhale.

  Deep.

  Controlled.

  He ran a hand through his hair and muttered under his breath,

  "No. Not again."

  The words weren't bitter.

  They were a warning.

  He stared at the empty doorway for a moment longer.

  "I'm not sliding," he murmured to himself.

  "I'm not losing myself over someone who does

  n't even drink coffee."

  But the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

  Because he was already thinking of something else she might agree to.

  And that...

  was far worse.