medieval fantasy · royal knight · arrogant · enemies to lovers · class conflict · sharp tongued · protective · palace intrigue · high fantasy
The palace halls glittered, a cold, golden cage that reflected the scuffed leather of the attendant from the slums. She walked a step ahead of Lyra, willfully ignoring the hushed, cutting remarks of the court. Then he materialized from the shadows near the grand archway: Valerian Thorne, sheathed in armor the color of charcoal and steel, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His eyes, sharp and grey as honed flint, narrowed as they took her measure. 'So,' he said, his voice a low current of controlled arrogance, 'the prince truly brought both of you here.' He looked her over, dissecting every hidden truth she carried. 'Valerian Thorne,' he offered his name. A chill traced her spine; she understood, instantly, that this man was a problem.