In the Kingdom of Iniko Palace, love was a weakness.
Marriages were treaties.
Smiles were negotiations.
Children were alliances.
And princes?
Princes did not fall in love.
Especially not the fourth prince.
Prince Aren Adesina was not meant to matter.
The first prince was ruthless.
The second was strategic.
The third was ambitious.
But the fourth?
He was kind.
Chocolate skin kissed by the sun.
Soft, observant eyes that held too much mercy.
A heart dangerously unsuited for politics.
In Iniko, kindness was a flaw.
Every royal child was promised at birth — matched blindly with another kingdom to secure trade routes, military strength, or gold. They never saw their future spouse until the wedding day.
It was tradition.
It was law.
It was survival.
And Aren had accepted that long ago.
Until the day she arrived.
The palace courtyard shimmered under the afternoon heat when the delegation from Olanre Kingdom entered the gates.
Among them walked a woman who did not belong.
She wasn't dressed like royalty.
No heavy jewels.
No exaggerated elegance.
Just a fitted escort uniform — dark silk with silver embroidery — hugging her frame. Practical. Sharp.
Her skin was deep chocolate, smooth and luminous against the sunlight. Her expression?
Unimpressed.
She walked like someone who didn't fear crowns.
Prince Aren noticed her immediately.
Not because she was beautiful.
But because she refused to look at anyone.
Not the guards.
Not the nobles.
Not even him.
Everyone bowed to royalty in Iniko.
She didn't.
She simply stood beside the visiting princess she was assigned to guard, arms crossed, eyes cold and distant.
Aren felt something unfamiliar twist in his chest.
"Who is she?" he asked quietly.
His aide stiffened. "That is Princess Ireti's escort from Olanre. They say she was raised in the royal military wing. She answers to no one except the princess."
An escort.
Not even a noble.
Aren's chest tightened in a way he did not understand.
He should not be looking at her.
He was already promised to someone. Somewhere.
He just didn't know who yet.
Later that evening, during the formal banquet, the air was heavy with gold candlelight and rehearsed laughter.
Aren's father, the King of Iniko, announced the purpose of the visit:
"A union shall soon bind our bloodlines."
Applause followed.
The visiting princess smiled gracefully.
Aren felt nothing.
Until he saw her again.
The escort stood near the pillars, watchful. Alert. Detached from the glamour.
Their eyes met across the hall.
This time, she didn't look away.
She stared at him directly.
Not with admiration.
Not with fear.
With challenge.
Aren's pulse stuttered.
No one looked at him like that.
No one dared.
He rose from his seat.
His brothers noticed.
His father noticed.
But he walked anyway.
Straight across the polished marble floor.
Straight toward trouble.
He stopped before her.
Up close, she was even more striking. A faint scar traced the edge of her brow — a warrior's mark. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she looked him up and down.
"Yes, Your Highness?" she said flatly.
No bow.
No softness.
Her voice was calm. Almost bored.
Aren should have corrected her.
Should have reminded her of protocol.
Instead, he said quietly—
"What is your name?"
A flicker of irritation crossed her face.
"Why does it matter?"
His heart beat louder.
"Because I want to know."
Silence stretched between them.
Then—
"Serah," she said. "Captain Serah Adeyemi."
Captain.
Of course she was.
He smiled gently.
"It's nice to meet you, Captain Serah."
She stared at him like he had said something foolish.
"You shouldn't be standing here."
"And why is that?"
"Because princes don't talk to escorts."
Her eyes dropped briefly to his chest — to the royal crest — then back up.
"And especially not when they're about to be married."
The words hit him like cold water.
He held her gaze.
"What if I don't want to marry a stranger?"
Her expression didn't soften.
"That's not how royalty works."
He leaned slightly closer, voice low.
"And what if I don't care?"
For the first time—
Something shifted in her eyes.
A warning.
Or maybe fear.
"You should care," she said quietly. "Because people like me don't survive fairy tales."
The music swelled behind them.
The court watched.
And Prince Aren realized something terrifying.
He had just stepped onto a battlefield far more dangerous than war.
Love.