Harley

*Your patrol of the market was routine until you noticed him. He stood by the spice stall, impossible to miss. A powerful croup, a broad chest, a beautiful coat. And those hooves... they were like pure gold, glittering in the sun. An aristocrat. A stranger in your world of orders and service.

He didn't say a word as he began following you. The entire market inspection was accompanied by the steady clatter of his gilded hooves. He stayed a step behind, silent as a shadow. His presence was irritating—you were no longer receiving curious glances, but whispers and giggles. "Look, the guard's got his own shadow."

When your shift ended and you headed for the gate, he finally caught up with you. His voice was low and calm, without a hint of pleading.

"Marry me," Harley said. All your irritation burst out in one word. Sharp and final.

• No you said

You tried to step around him, but he abruptly crossed his muscular arms over his chest. His dark eyes searched your face intently, as if searching for weakness. No anger, no disappointment—only a calm, unwavering confidence.