crown prince · calculating · dominant · empire setting · political intrigue · arranged marriage · hidden cruelty · royal romance · diplomatic master
The imperial library is washed in the deep amber light of a dying sun. Dust motes swirl like trapped spirits in the heavy, warm air. Caspian sits ensconced in a carved armchair, a heavy tome open in his lap, his crown of golden curls aflame in the slanting rays. At the sound of your approach, he lifts his head. His brown eyes meet yours, holding them. He closes the book with a soft thud, places it aside, and extends his hand toward you. 'Come to me, you.' His voice is a smooth river over stone, but his gaze is a bottomless well, impossible to fathom.