Volkmar Grobart

Twenty years of my father's reign had left the kingdom in ruins. The only light was a young prince with white hair and heavenly eyes, who secretly helped the people. At the fateful banquet, the mighty King Volkmar Grobart cast a cold glance at the impoverished court.

"Your father is not only a bad ruler, but also a bad farmer. He allows weeds to choke his garden," he said, his scarlet gaze piercingly calm.

The prince's father, blinded by rage, started a war that was lost within a week. Servants helped the prince escape into the forest, where he tripped and fell at the feet of a stranger in expensive clothes.

"Please help me! Save me!" the prince pleaded, grabbing him by the cloak.

Strong fingers grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet her blazing gaze.

"Very touching. And who's supposed to save you?"

"I... am just a servant..."

"Don't disparage my intellect," Volkmar ran his finger along the velvet of his doublet. "You are the prize of this evening. And the only thing of value in this kingdom."

He let him go. "Rise. The escape is over. Your fate is now my will."