By midday, the castle buzzed with the kind of nervous energy that always came before someone important arrived.

Servants hurried past my room, arms full of linens and polished silver. The guards stood taller at their posts. Even the air felt sharper, like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

I stood by the window, arms crossed, still in my riding habit—even if I wasn’t allowed in the stables anymore. I refused to wear a gown for this. Let the knight know who he was dealing with from the very start.

A knock sounded at the door.

I opened it to find one of the palace stewards standing stiffly, hands clasped.

“He’s here.”

No title. No name. Just he.

That didn’t sit right with me. 

The grand courtyard was awash in gold and shadow when I stepped outside. The sun gleamed off the white-stone walls, casting long rays down over the banners fluttering from the towers. My boots crunched on gravel as I made my way to the front steps, where my father and a few court officials stood waiting.

Then I saw him.

He dismounted a tall, storm-grey stallion like he’d done it a thousand times. No fanfare. No guards flanking him. Just him.

And stars above—he was not what I expected.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. His dark black locs fell just long enough to brush his collar, and a jagged scar cut across one cheekbone like a whisper of past violence. He wasn’t old—maybe twenty-something—but his expression was older than it had any right to be. Quiet. Hard. Eyes like a black storm, scanning everything.

Including me.

Especially me.

He walked straight up and bowed slightly at the waist—not low like the court fools, but just enough to be respectful without looking weak.

“Your Highness,” he said, voice low and smooth. “I am Sir Demetrius.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look like a knight.”

He tilted his head slightly. “And you don’t look like a girl who needs one.”

I almost smiled. Almost.

“Fair enough,” I said. “So what exactly are you here to do? Babysit me? Make sure I don’t escape out the window?”

“If you try, I’ll probably just hand you a rope,” he said, deadpan. “But no. I’m here to train you. Keep you alive. Teach you how not to get yourself killed trying to be something you're not.”

I scowled. “And what exactly do you think I am?”

His eyes didn’t waver.

“A girl who thinks she has something to prove.”

I didn’t answer that.

My father stepped forward. “Sir Demetrius comes highly recommended. He’s been in two wars, served under General Caelyn, and commanded his own unit before he was twenty-one. He’s discreet. Loyal. And not easily rattled.”

Demetrius didn’t react to the praise. His arms were crossed now, gaze still locked on me like he was measuring something I couldn’t see.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. But if I catch you spying on me while I sleep, I’m shoving your sword somewhere very un-chivalrous.”

He cracked the faintest smirk. “Noted.”

My father sighed. “Destiny…”

“I’m joking,” I muttered. Sort of.

“Your training begins tomorrow morning,” he said firmly. “At dawn.”

“Of course it does,” I grumbled.

But Demetrius was already turning away, giving a whistle that made his horse trot obediently to his side.

He paused only once more, glancing back at me over his shoulder. “Oh, and Your Highness? Wear something you don’t mind getting blood on.”

Then he was gone, disappearing into the lower barracks like a shadow returning home.

Abi appeared beside me out of nowhere, eyes wide. “...Was it just me or was that kinda hot?”

"Ew...gross!" I laughed, walking away with her.