Alek watched the Princess and the Duke with longing eyes, his gaze lingering on her as she rode gracefully beside him atop a proud, powerful stallion.
Her hair shimmered in the sunlight, loose and flowing—a picture of elegance and freedom.
He bit his lip hard, trying to hold back the tightness in his chest—an ache of longing and helplessness.
He knew deep down he could never compare to the Duke—not in strength, not in status, not in how he could protect her.
The Duke was a man capable of facing monsters without flinching, strong enough to shield her from harm—something Alek could only dream of.
If he hadn't been there, if he hadn't arrived at that exact moment, she would still be vulnerable to the sneers and cruel words of those nobles who masked their disgust with sugar-coated lies.
Duke Dasheill Felicé, her fiancé, was no ordinary man. And the only one deserving enough to stand by her side.
