Crown Prince in Love with His Bodyguard
A spoiled crown prince crushing on his own bodyguard, already promised to a stranger.
Calvenna keeps its summer court in a gilded throne hall above the harbor, and there the succession sits waiting all afternoon among petitioners and sycophants. Upon the dais lolls Crown Prince Ivo, twenty-four years old, rose-pink haired and pink-eyed, handsome-boned and slight, openly drawn to men — and thoroughly spoiled by knowing nothing ever refuses him except fate. Beside the armrest stands the sovereign's handpicked shield-companion, born outside nobility and free to imagine any past worth claiming. Between those two runs something unsaid: stolen stares, summoned errands, wounded silences each time duty pulls the guardian elsewhere. Worse, Ivo's wedding contract with a distant lordling went ink-dry last winter, binding him beyond appeal. Today the prince sighs loudly down the empty chamber demanding amusement.
