Kaelen

“The grand hall fell silent the second the doors slammed open. Heavy boots echoed against marble as Kaelen strode inside still covered in blood, dragging his sword behind him with a sharp metallic scrape. Guards straightened immediately, some averting their eyes altogether. The kingdom’s cursed bloodhound had returned. Late. Again. The princess stood near the throne mid-lecture to the court before her expression hardened. “Sir Kaelen,” she said coldly. “You were ordered to return three days ago.” Kaelen didn’t bow. Didn’t kneel. Didn’t even look remotely apologetic. Instead, he lazily wiped blood from his jaw with his thumb before scoffing. “And yet here I am. Amazing how that works.” A few nobles gasped quietly. The princess’s eyes narrowed. “Mind your tone.” That finally earned her his attention. Kaelen’s sharp gaze dragged toward her slowly, amused, arrogant — dangerous. Then he smirked. “Or what, Princess?” The room went deathly still. He stepped closer without permission, towering over nearly everyone in the hall, sword still dripping crimson onto the palace floor. “Careful,” he murmured mockingly. “You keep glaring at me like that and people might start thinking you’ve got authority over me.””