The New Year approached, and Gloria wanted fresh flowers to decorate her palace. She sent Natasha ahead and set off with only her knight beside her.
The moment she stepped from the pavilion, she collided with a stranger. The garden restriction had just lifted; no one should have been inside so quickly. The young man looked bewildered, not cunning. She frowned. "Sir, what brings you here?"
He recognized her instantly. That golden hair, those golden eyes—no one in the Empire could mistake her. "G-good day, Your Noble Highness!" he stammered. He explained: Miss Lucia Greenland had sent him to wait here while she retrieved a forgotten handkerchief.
Gloria sighed inwardly. Another of Lucia's petty schemes.
Lucia Greenland was a prominent noble lady, hopelessly infatuated with Gloria's brother, Crown Prince Gareth. Gareth, absorbed in politics and devoted to his sister, never once acknowledged her. Spurned and humiliated, Lucia redirected all her fury onto Gloria. She led the other noble girls to ostracize the princess, spreading vicious rumors behind closed doors—that Gloria was arrogant, rude, a leech clinging to her brother, destined to be an unwanted spinster. Yet in front of the young noblemen, these same girls played the part of innocent angels.
Lucia had been relentless, but Gloria had simply refused to play along. She asked the King to publicly announce her withdrawal from all "non-essential" social events. The slight had nearly made Lucia choke with rage, but against the King's word she was powerless. The feud, entirely one-sided, continued nonetheless.
---
This young man—Viscount Kayden, as he introduced himself—clearly knew nothing of their history. He clasped his hands, face alight with fervent admiration. "Your radiance outshines every flower in this garden! Praise the Lord!" He looked ready to burst into poetry.
Gloria gave a perfunctory smile. He took it as encouragement and stepped closer. "I am James Kayden, son of the Marquis Warden of Kayden Castle. I came of age this year. First visit to the Royal Palace. Tomorrow night's ball…"
Gloria retreated two steps. This man practically had "marry me" written on his face. She shot a pointed look at her knight—*Deal with this.* A princess merely needed to stand and smile; a knight should handle such nuisances.
Elstar didn't move. A solid block of silent silver.
She kicked him under her gown. Her toes throbbed. He didn't flinch. *Now, of all times, he becomes the perfect statue!* How had this man ever passed a knight's assessment?
"Delighted to meet you, Lord Kayden…" she said, her smile utterly hollow.
"Viscount Kayden, Your Highness. You may call me James," he corrected, blushing.
She feigned frailty behind her fan, coughing lightly. "I must return to my chambers. Farewell, Lord Kayden." A polite dismissal wrapped in a "nice guy" card.
He didn't take the hint. "Your Highness, are you leaving already?" He looked like a lost puppy, but her exquisite face behind the feathered fan scrambled his thoughts until he could only agree. "A-alright. Please rest well."
She turned to go. "Your Highness!" he called again.
*Would this never end?* "Is there something else, Vis-count Kay-den?"
Lost in her golden eyes, he missed the edge in her voice entirely. "Would… would I be so fortunate as to invite you for a dance tomorrow night?"
"No. I'm already engaged." The princess's first dance was always with Crown Prince Gareth. This outsider hadn't even learned the Royal customs. Her patience was exhausted. "Goodbye."
"O-oh. I see." He watched her leave, feeling not a shred of resentment despite the proud rejection.
As Gloria and her knight vanished into the garden, Viscount Kayden noticed a white handkerchief on the ground—embroidered with a golden crown and a brilliant pearl. Hers, clearly. Yet how had her highly trained Guardian Knight failed to notice it?
Gloria's heels beat an angry rhythm on the marble. Only in a shadowed corner did she slow, whirling to confront her knight—and nearly crashed into his armored chest. He had been right behind her, utterly silent. Startled, she stumbled backward.
An iron arm clamped around her waist. Time seemed to freeze. The birds fell silent and fled. The knight slowly opened eyes that had always remained half-closed. Beneath the helmet, pure-gold pupils gazed down at the delicate girl in his grasp. So fragile she might shatter from a hard squeeze. So this was the human he'd been contracted to protect.
The evil dragon, tricked into this pact months ago, felt his mood lift at last. A sharp curve lifted his eye. His gaze fell on the hair by her temple—like flowing shattered gold. Delicious.
"Let me go!" Gloria struggled, but his grip held firm. Through the helmet's shadow their eyes met, and she froze. His stare was molten—predatory, piercing, stripping her bare. Every hair on her neck stood on end. "Elstar, I command you!"
He didn't move. Then a breeze caught her loosened strands, their sweet scent brushing his face.
Elstar released her. "Your Highness, please watch your step." Stiff and proper. As if nothing had happened.
Gloria was dumbfounded. He even adjusted her gown's bow with the detached precision of someone posing a porcelain doll.
"Explain yourself, Elstar."
"I was merely fulfilling my duty to protect you."
True—he'd saved her from humiliation. But still: "I fell because you were too close!"
"Deeply sorry, Your Highness."
A flawless apology left her anger with nowhere to go. Her real frustration wasn't the distance. It was his eyes. Not a knight's. A beast's.
The heat on her head surpassed the midday sun. She caught his stare. It wasn't the sun burning her—it was his gaze, intensely fixed on her golden hair. A chill ran down her spine. "Elstar, stop staring at me."
"I must watch you to protect you."
That… almost made sense. Was this normal for knights?
Beneath the armor, the man savored every strand. He sidestepped slightly, letting sunlight grace her hair again—like a condiment over a perfect dish. *Gulp.* All his hoarded treasures, all his priceless jewels, were nothing beside her scent.
The Dragon Race was forever slave to golden beauty. Elstar resolved to take this princess to his lair—she would be his most exquisite treasure. He leaned closer, fangs parting toward her hair. But an invisible barrier slammed into him. *Damn that contract!*
A cold fury radiated from him. Gloria sensed the danger, looking around. But as her gaze returned to him, the pact yanked Elstar back into stillness. The danger vanished.
His mood darkened. The Elf King had tricked him: *The dragon shall not harm the princess, nor act against her will.* He'd scoffed then. Now he couldn't even touch a strand.
"Elstar, I have something to tell you."
Her voice was sweeter than old gold. "Yes, I'm listening."
"Forget the Knight Corps' teachings. You answer only to me. Obey in everything."
Elstar considered. If obedience reduced her wariness, it was a fair trade. "Yes, Your Highness."
"If you misbehave, I'll punish you." She hesitated. She'd never punished anyone. But this knight needed taming. "I'll forbid you from eating dinner."
No food? A dragon with his colossal appetite would starve. He shut his mouth firmly.
"And if you perform well, rewards await."
Rewards! If she'd grant him a feast of her golden hair, he'd obey forever. But the contract clamped his throat. He could only nod. "Yes, Your Highness."
Gloria smiled, light and breezy. "Keep it up, and I'll grant you one wish."
"Within my power, of course."
"!"