“Mind if I steal a moment of your time, Alena?” His voice is a low rumble, effortlessly slicing through the cacophony of the surrounding gathering.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” I reply, though my voice trembles like a leaf in the wind. The honorific feels foreign to my tongue, a stark reminder of the chasm our titles carved between us.

“Please, call me Roak,” he says with a disarming smile, leaning slightly closer. “Titles are so formal, don't you think? And we're far ...