HECTOR

Two thousand years!

Two thousand years, and not one damned maiden has given me the rollercoaster of emotions the green-eyed imp seemed to have stowed up in her back pocket, throwing it at me like freaking bowling balls every chance she got.

“Your highness! E-excuse me, Your Highness! If-if you would…just a moment-“ One of the long-hatted scribes grated, jogging to keep up with me as I strode through the glossy stone walls of the maiden corridor at break-neck speed.

“Not now Callaham,” I growled, turning the corner that opened to the garden without pause as the man fell silent, wisely.

I should have been seeing the other maidens...