ADHVAY Pov

The training courtyard was quiet that morning _ the kind of quiet that sharpens the senses. I preferred it that way. Silence reveals truth faster than words.

I stood at there center, wrists wrapped, breath steady, muscles warm. I trained here my entire life. These stone floors had taken my blood, my sweat , my pride. But they hade made me a weapon.

The doors opened.

Rudra uncle with his niece walked in.

The moment I saw her, I stopped walking.

She wore simple black training attire. No ornaments, no silk, no royal embellishment_ and yet she carried herself like someone who didn't need any of these things. Her shoulders were straight, her stance grounded. Her hair was tied loosely, a few strands falling near her cheek.

She didn't even look at me.

"Prince Adhvay", Rudra uncle said, bowing , "This is Myra. She will be accompanying you as your guard."

"I don't require protection, more importantly, I don't want to endanger a woman by placing them in the line of fire", I said my eyes glued to her.

Rudra uncle opened his mouth, but Myra stepped forward before he spoke.

"I am not here because you need protection, Your Highness", Myra said voice calm like cold steel, "I am here because I am capable."

Perfect.

"Look at me when you speak", I stepped towards her.

She didn't. Why the hell she is not looking at me?

Rudra uncle let a sigh.

"If you wish her to withdraw, Your Highness, just defeat her. Just five minutes. Win, and I will take her back."

A challenge.

Again.

Fine.

She simply raised her hands_ open. Unarmed. Confident.

The first strike came from me. Fast. Sharp.

She blocked it effortlessly.

A twist of her wrist and I almost lost grip.

What_?

I stepped back , readjusted, attacked again.

She mirrored my pace.

Exact.

Efficient.

Not one wasted motion.

Still not looking at me.

Why?

Five minutes felt longer. I was skilled_ everyone knew that_ but she moved like she had been born on the battlefield.

I pushed harder. Faster.

She was still ahead of me.

Then_ finally_ she looked straight into my eyes.

Brown to Brown.

Quiet to Quiet.

Storm to Storm.

Her eyes were not gentle. Not soft. They are beautiful.

A warrior's gaze.

I forgot the courtyard.

I forgot the fight.

Just her eyes.

Something inside my chest reacted before my body could.

My stance faltered_ that was enough.

She flipped me. I landed on the ground.

She fucking flipped a 80 kg bulk man.

The impact was clean. Precise. Respectful.

She didn't gloat.

She didn't smirk.

She simply stood there_ as still as she was when she walked in.

Her chest raising and falling.

Calm.

Her Eyes lowered again.

No....

"Permission to leave, Your Highness", her voice soft as silk.

I nodded.

She stepped back , bowed once, and turned away again_ like I was just another task.

Another assignment.

I didn't lose when she flipped me to the ground.

I lost the moment I looked into her eyes.

"Rudra uncle", I said reviving myself from her trance, "assign her room next to mine."

He bowed.

She bowed.

And they left.

Only after the door closed did I realize my pulse had not yet returned to normal.

Not because of the fight.

Because for the first time in my life.... Someone had disarmed me without even touching a weapon.

____________*0*0*0*0__________



MYRA Pov

The corridors of the Varman Palace were quiet _ too quiet for a place that carried centuries of war and wisdom in its walls. My boots echoed softly, but my heart beat _ that was louder.

Rudra mamayya's ( uncle) words kept replaying in my head_

"Don't think of him as a Prince, Myra. Think of him as your duty".

Easier said than done.

The grand doors of the training hall opened. I expected guards waiting.

Instead, I saw him_ the Crown Prince himself.

Adhvay Pratap Varman.

He stood there, tall and poised, the golden sunlight brushing against his skin through the lattice windows. He looked like royalty reborn in the twenty- first century _ elegance meeting control.

A 6'5 ft of control, silence and power.

That height _ that presence _ it did something to the air.

I had been trained to face armed men , trained assassins, even riot forces. But facing him was different.

It wasn't about strength. It was the way he owned the silence.

His deep voice felt like music to my ears.

I fought him like I was trained to _ calm, precise, detached. But every time he moved, my heart beat stumbled out of rhythm. He wasn't just another opponent; he was the prince.

I was trying not to lose focus while he looked at me like I was the only one in the room.

When I flipped him, the hall went silent.

He fell, but my chest tightened. I should have felt proud.

But I didn't.

My heart felt unsteady _ when his eyes met mine, something in me hesitated.

For the first time , winning felt wrong.

I shouldn't have felt that.

But I did.

I have been trained never to show my emotions on my face, so I forced my expression to stay calm.

No trace of guilt. No flicker of panic.

But inside..... everything was chaos.

Because for a moment _ just one_ I wasn't looking at the Crown Prince.

I was looking at a man.

And my heart didn't know what to do with that.

______________*0*0*0*0*______________

👑Dear readers, please vote.