The Prince Who Broke My Walls

Elowynne Thaloria preferred the training grounds over the throne room. While other princesses practiced curtsies and dances, she swung her twin crescent blades until her arms burned and her lungs begged for mercy. Sweat shimmered down her spine, her silver hair sticking to her cheek as she spun, slashed, and pivoted. the dummies around her were shredded like paper. “Princess—again?” her guard, Thamon, sighed. “This is your third session today.” “It’s called self-defense,” she replied, wiping her brow. “Something this kingdom clearly relies too much on men for.” Thamon muttered under his breath. Elowynne ignored him. She sheathed her blades and stepped outside the training hall. The wind welcomed her, carrying the scent of pine and distant rain. She closed her eyes for a second, enjoying the quiet her favorite kind of company. No voices. No court. No men pretending to adore her just to gain power. Just peace. But peace rarely lasted in Thaloria. A horn sounded from the east gate three sharp notes. Visitors. High-ranking ones. The exact type Elowynne hated. “Elowynne!” Her cousin Lyra sprinted toward her. “You’re needed in the throne hall right now. A delegation arrived from Duskborne.” Elowynne’s jaw tightened. Duskborne. The kingdom her father wanted to ally with. Translation: a kingdom offering a prince. “I’m not meeting any prince,” she declared coldly. “Tell Father I’m busy.” Lyra swallowed. “You should hear this first.” Before Elowynne could question her, the throne hall doors opened from within. Guards stood straighter. Servants bowed lower. And then he walked in. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair tousled by wind. Eyes like storm clouds—gray, intense, unreadable. He carried no crown, yet he carried presence, as if power followed wherever he moved. Elowynne hated that the room suddenly felt smaller. Hated the strange pull in her chest. Hated that he looked at her as if he could see the armor she hid inside her bones. The king rose from his seat. “Elowynne, meet Prince Vaelric Duskborne.” Vaelric bowed slightly. “Princess,” he said, voice deep and steady. “A pleasure to finally meet the warrior of Thaloria.” Warrior. Not princess. Not delicate. Not fragile. Her heart betrayed her with a single, unwanted beat. But she masked her face with ice and replied, “Don’t mistake curiosity for interest, Prince. I don’t entertain men.” His lips curved—just a little. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not here to be entertained.” For the first time in a long time, Elowynne Thaloria felt something crack in the walls she built. Curiosity. Annoyance. Interest she refused to admit. Whatever it was… …it was dangerous.