Belle’s POV Just outside the eastern courtyard, under the shadow of the old bell tower, someone stepped into my path. I froze mid-step. The fading light made the figure look half-shadow, half-glow — tall, with broad shoulders and sharp lines. His blond hair caught the dying sun like fire. His eyes—striking and cold—met mine without hesitation. Storm blue. Watchful. Golden-flecked like a sky on the edge of breaking. “You really don’t like making things simple,” he said, voice smooth, knowing. I stiffened. “Do I know you?” He didn’t answer. Just took another step forward, casual yet confident, like he didn’t believe for a second he was a stranger. He looked young, but there was something older in the way he carried himself. Like he’d seen too much to be called a boy. Calm, unreadabl
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