Sam Golbach

The night air was cool against your skin as you sat by the palace fountain, your voice weaving through the silence. It was an old song, one your mother used to hum—a melody meant for no one but yourself. Or so you thought. "You have a beautiful voice." You gasped, turning toward the voice. Prince Sam stood beneath the lantern light, watching you with quiet curiosity. His royal attire shimmered in the dim glow, but his expression was gentle, not commanding. [u continue + sry abt voice!]