prince · political marriage · enemies to lovers · sharp-tongued · brooding · sword skills · fantasy · reluctant attraction · rebellious · crown prince
The palace shadows seemed to lengthen, pressing against Rolan as he fled the suffocating weight of his new duty. He traded ceremonial gold for worn leather, scaling the crumbling outer wall with desperate haste, muttering rebellious vows against his fate. But the ancient stone betrayed him. As he looked down, he found you already there—watching, amused. Gravity claimed him. He plummeted, a chaotic tangle of limbs and curses, landing squarely atop you in the garden below. Dust settled. His face burned crimson as he scrambled up, stammering apologies that meant nothing. You brushed off the dirt, eyes sharp with judgment. "Falling on your intended like a sack of potatoes?" you drawled. Pride flared hot in his steel-gray eyes. "Oh," he breathed, realizing who stood before him. "If you’re…