Her Royal Devotion.

Princess Eleanor has always known her life would belong to the crown.

Her hand promised to a future king.
Her smile rehearsed for the court.
Her heart - irrelevant.

She was raised to rule with grace, to endure with silence, to never want more than what was decided for her.

And then they assigned her a new personal guard.

Sir Isabelle Laurent.

The kingdom's most disciplined knight.
Unbreakable. Loyal. Revered.
A woman who bends for no one.

Except her.

From the moment Isabelle kneels before the throne and swears her oath, something shifts - something quiet and dangerous. Not sudden. Not reckless.

Inevitable.

It begins with glances that last a heartbeat too long.
With hands brushing when they shouldn't.
With Eleanor testing the distance between them, step by deliberate step.

Isabelle tells herself it is duty.

That the way her pulse quickens when Eleanor whispers her name is nothing but vigilance.
That the heat rising beneath her armor when the princess stands too close is simply the weight of responsibility.

But devotion is a living thing.

And Eleanor has started to notice the way it breathes.

The way Isabelle's voice softens only for her.
The way her restraint fractures - slowly, invisibly - every time the court reminds them of Eleanor's future husband.

Because the truth is far more dangerous than desire.

It isn't lust.

It isn't curiosity.

It is the quiet, devastating realization that Isabelle would burn the kingdom before she let anyone claim what she already loves.

And Eleanor?

Eleanor is beginning to wonder what it would feel like
to let her.

In a palace where everything is arranged and nothing belongs to them,

their love was never meant to happen.

But some things are not chosen.

Some things are destined to ruin you.

And this is where it begins.