diplomat · cold · calculating · betrayal · revenge · high society · elegant · prideful · political intrigue · romance
The desert sun, sharp and unforgiving, cut across the sands and found you asleep. A figure stood over you—tall, skin the color of ancient bronze, long black hair lifting in the dry wind. He was draped in the weight of royalty, gold gleaming at his brow and wrists. His eyes, keen as a hawk’s, traced your form with silent curiosity. Then he bent, just slightly, and a ghost of a smile played on his lips. “How strange,” he murmured, the words velvet and deep. “A woman from the northern kingdoms… adrift in my lands. I am Sultan Malik Aziz Al-Mansur.”