October Windsor was irritated, restless, and one breath away from throwing a velvet pillow at the next portrait her sister sent over. Another suitor—another disappointment. After several days of polite refusals and increasingly outlandish reasons to reject them ("He had a mole shaped like a banana" was her last excuse), she'd had enough.
"I need fresh air," she announced, flinging open the windows of her chamber dramatically.
Gloria, her ever-loyal maid, blinked in mild panic. "Madam, it would be wiser to take the carriage."
"I've been locked indoors for days. I need to breathe something other than rose oil and nobles' desperation." October sighed, tying a scarf around her head.
"But must you dress like a commoner?" Gloria asked, casting a wary glance at October's plain skirt and linen blouse.
"Yes," October answered simply. "I don't want attention. I want peace."
And so, the two of them slipped quietly into the city.
The market square was a blur of activity—merchants shouting out their wares, children chasing each other between stalls, and the scent of roasted almonds hanging sweet and thick in the air. October took a deep breath. It felt… real. Grounded. A far cry from the stiff etiquette of the Windsor estate.
She tugged Gloria toward a sweets stall. "Come on. You owe me after that last suitor."
Gloria didn't even argue—she knew better by now. Isabella's sweet tooth had no equal. They sampled candied violets, sugar-dusted buns, and a suspiciously pink jelly tart that made Gloria gag but October grin in delight.
By late afternoon, they'd wandered from the market to the quieter districts of the city. The streets began to clear as dusk rolled in, painting the world in hues of orange and lilac. Lanterns flickered to life, and the stone path they strolled on curved gently past the palace.
The Royal Palace loomed in all its gilded grandeur—ivory towers catching the last light of day like polished gold. October slowed to admire it.
"Okay, this is definitely Buckingham Palace on fantasy steroids," she muttered to herself. "Still not as cozy as the Windsor mansion, though."
Lost in her musings, she didn't notice the man standing still a few paces ahead.
Thwack.
"Oof!" October stumbled back, clutching her nose. "What in the—did I just run into a brick wall?"
Gloria gasped softly. "Milady—!"
October blinked, her hands still over her face. She looked up, and the breath in her lungs vanished.
The man she had bumped into turned around slowly. He was tall—easily over six feet—with broad shoulders clad in a sharply tailored black suit. His jawline looked like it had been chiseled from marble. Thick, dark hair fell just slightly over his brow, and his skin held the warm tone of sunlight filtered through glass. But it was his eyes that struck her most—deep ruby red, glowing faintly even in the fading light.
She couldn't breathe. He looked like a character pulled straight out of a manhwa—no, straight from the mind of a god who specialized in heartbreak and dangerous beauty.
"I think… my nose is broken," October muttered, dazed.
The stranger frowned slightly, his voice a smooth, velvet baritone. "Are you alright, young miss?"
Young miss.
God, even his voice could melt bone.
October opened her mouth to answer with something clever, maybe even sarcastic. But her mind, foolish and frantic, chose that exact moment to betray her. She stared at him for a second longer, her brain compiling everything—his posture, his wealth, his good genes, the way he clearly wasn't from around here.
He would make beautiful children. And more importantly, he could get her far away from this doomed life.
So she said the first thing that came to her lips.
"Marry me."
Silence.
A breeze whispered past them, lifting the edge of her scarf. Gloria made a sound that might have been a stifled scream.
The man tilted his head. "What?"
October's heart plummeted to her feet. "I mean—I—wait—uh—"
She waved her hands like she could physically swat the words out of the air. Her cheeks flushed crimson.
"I didn't mean to say that. Well—I did, but not like that. Not now. Not… randomly… I think you broke my brain," she stammered.
The man's eyes crinkled at the edges. Was that amusement?
"You asked me to marry you, and now you're blaming your injury?"
"No," she blurted, then paused. "Yes. I mean—I don't know who you are, and I'm not insane, I swear. But I'm looking for a husband. For very reasonable and personal reasons, and you just happen to look like you could help with that. You know what? I'll stop talking."
The man was silent for a moment longer, eyes unreadable.
Then, to her horror and confusion, he smiled. It wasn't cruel or mocking—it was warm. Amused.
"Most women don't propose to strangers in the middle of the road," he said calmly.
"Well," October sniffed, trying to recover a shred of dignity, "I'm not most women."
"That much is clear."
Another pause. He looked her over—not in a lecherous way, but with curiosity, as though trying to place her. "You're not from the town, are you?"
"No," she admitted. "Just visiting."
"Ah." He nodded, offering a gloved hand. "Kael."
She hesitated for only a heartbeat before placing her hand in his. His grip was warm and firm.
"October," she replied, careful not to give her full name.
His eyes flickered at the sound of it. "Like the month?"
"Like the storm," she said.
Kael chuckled—a low, rich sound that made her spine tingle. "I'll keep that in mind."
And with that, he turned and walked away.
October stared after him, pulse racing.
"Madam," Gloria finally managed to whisper, voice shaking, "did you just propose to the emperor of the Northern Kingdom?"
October's head snapped toward her maid. "WHAT?"