They warned me not to look him in the eyes.
Said if I did... I'd never stop.
The throne room was silent.
Not from peace—but from fear.
You could feel it in the way the guards stood too stiff.
In the way the servants never lifted their eyes.
The Crown Prince was here.
And he was watching.
I didn't know what I expected.
A brute, maybe. A shadow wrapped in human skin.
But when I saw him, he was something else.
Beautiful in the way fire is beautiful.
Glowing. Alive. Dangerous.
He sat on an obsidian throne like it bored him.
One hand rested over the arm, ringed in silver.
His skin was pale, marked with faint scars.
Not ugly—just quiet reminders of battles he didn't lose.
His hair was black, but in the light, I saw it—
Red streaks hidden in the dark strands.
Like embers pretending to sleep.
His face was all sharp angles and silence.
High cheekbones. A mouth made for cruelty.
A smirk that looked like it forgot how to fade.
But it was his eyes that stole my breath.
Gold.
Not like coins.
Like flame.
And they were staring at me.
"Lira of the servant registry," the steward called.
I stepped forward.
Everyone else bowed lower.
I didn't.
I wasn't trying to be brave.
I just couldn't move.
His gaze had weight.
It held me in place like a sword.
Still, I looked back.
He tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was a puzzle.
"What's your name?" he asked.
His voice was deep—low and smooth.
Not rough.
More like heat rising off sun-baked stone.
"Lira," I said.
He blinked.
Once.
Then again.
Like something about the name had struck him.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
"But I am."
He stood.
He was taller than I expected.
And he moved too quietly.
Like something ancient.
Something dangerous that learned to walk in silence.
His jaw tightened.
His golden eyes flared.
Like fire catching wind.
"You don't understand," he said. "You're not safe around me."
"Then make me leave."
He stopped.
His stare held mine.
I thought he might laugh.
Or shout.
Or call the guards.
But instead, he whispered—
"You're not afraid of me."
"Should I be?" I asked, softly.
His breath hitched.
Just a little.
Almost too small to notice.
And then—he looked away.
They say monsters don't flinch.
But I saw the way he broke his gaze.
Not because he didn't care.
But because he did.