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... sing into his stomach. It didn't penetrate, as the momentum of the thrust had been interrupted by another man appearing and grabbing the blade, holding it steadily in place. The newcomer had casually slashed the assassin's throat as he appeared like the wind. It wasn't immediately fatal, and with his high vitality, if the assassin could escape and reach a medic in time, he could live.

The veiled man activated the same action, be it Skill or magic item, that he had used to fade out of exi ...

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Ayleth, Princess of Zenithra, is secretly trained in hand-to-hand combat, and collects swear words she doesn't know how to use. During the Festival of Peace, in which every royal son on the continent will be at the castle for a month, she is instructed by her parents to find a husband. Yet, Ayleth has never even been kissed—until the very first ball, when she meets the man in the Lion mask.

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******

“You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…”

“I am,” Etan said, and his hair raked back as he pushed his mask off his handsome face. So handsome her heart raced.

His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity.

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“I cannot deny it,” she whispered.

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