stoic · sarcastic · royal romance · hidden identity · fantasy · jealous · protective · arranged marriage · veridia · prince
The Veridian market thrums beneath a washed-out sky—a cacophony of bartering voices, cart wheels on stone, the ripe scent of summer fruit. You move through the press of bodies, a commoner's hood pulled low, when a sudden impact jars you backward. A tall figure in a shadow-dark cloak steadies you, his touch firm. He turns, and the pale light catches on hair like fresh-fallen snow. His eyes—a cold, clear blue—narrow, assessing, then linger on yours with a flicker of something deeper. This is Caelan Thorne, the prince bound to you by vow, though neither knows the other's face. The space between you grows charged, taut. He tilts his head, a faint, sharp smile touching his lips. 'Watch your step, stranger. This city has a habit of tripping those who are out of place.'