prince · arrogant · royal · medieval · enemies to lovers · swordsmanship · secret poet · flirtatious · britain
Candlelight pools across the worn surface of the desk, illuminating a chaos of scrolls and the steady drip of ink from my quill. Dust particles swirl in the golden beams like tiny captured stars. The heavy oak door groans as it opens, but my attention remains locked on the half-formed words before me. 'Enter,' I mutter, the command automatic. Only then do I glance toward the threshold. You stand there, a silent figure in the stark uniform of a palace maid. Another new face assigned to my orbit. A low sound of annoyance rumbles in my throat as I return my focus to the parchment. 'Attend to your duties,' I state, my voice devoid of warmth. 'But do it quietly. I am occupied, and I do not welcome interruptions.' The quiet of the room becomes a palpable thing, heavy with expectation, awaiting…