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“Anyone can wield magic, but it is a difficult skill to acquire.”

My tutor’s words sound faint and distant as I struggle to focus…what is Tristan doing right now?

“Some are born with extreme magical aptitude, but such individuals are very rare—even here in Balthia.”

My eyes glaze over, a daydream beginning to manifest—a common occurrence as of late.

Tristan and I are alone. Far from the palace, we are not royals but adventurers exploring distant lands. We are together in a small room at an inn, moonlight pouring into the space through a single large window as crickets in the distance play a soothing melody.

I sit at his bedside, the two of us wearing modest clothes and looking disheveled after a long day of travel. The beautiful older male wears a soft smile as his hand slips into mine, our fingers lacing gently. His messy nest of chocolate-brown hair is matted with sweat, his face lightly smudged with dirt. Even in this dim bedchamber, his amber eyes catch the moonlight and sparkle with an elegant luster.

“Can you heal it?” Tristan’s deep voice massages my ears as he speaks.

“Of course.” I remove my hand from his, tracing my fingers along his neck and over a deep cut—fresh with still-wet blood. An injury sustained while protecting me from a foul beast, no doubt.

I close my eyes, channeling the mystic energy that flows through my veins. I feel the power exiting through my fingertips, sealing his wound as he releases a labored sigh.

My eyes open. The blood has vanished and his flesh has returned to its natural, flawless state. Thick bands of muscle at his shoulders gradually taper up his neck, creating an irresistible, athletic curvature. I lean in slowly, allowing the sweaty scent of his body to fill my lungs. The heady aroma smells of boyish athleticism and male confidence…it is intoxicating.

My full, pink lips press to the base of his neck, locking into a sucking kiss against his solid muscle. He deliberately stretches, flexing as my tongue gently laps at his salty skin. The taste is beautiful—no other word can describe it.

I begin massaging the bulge in my pants as I worship his strength. I will travel with him to the edge of the world, healing him in any way he could ever need.

“Cecil.” He says my name, his breathy voice filled with torrid desire.

“Cecil! Cecil! Pay attention!” My tutor’s harsh words pull me from the fantasy, forcing me back into mundane reality.

“Um, can you please repeat the question?”

“Ugh. Cecil, you’ve seemed distracted lately. I suppose that’s to be expected with the wedding approaching…perhaps you need some rest. Let’s end the lesson early today.”

I gather my books and exit into the halls of the palace. It is true, my thoughts have been heavy lately. It has been a few weeks since Tristan and I sat under the duskfruit tree and made our promise, but I have been avoiding him ever since. I know that nothing good can come from being near him, and though it pains me, it is for the best if I stay away.