"He's stalwart. Clever. As adept with his lute as he is with his sword. And a feature in the fancies of many a young lady I'd wager."
Having affections for a prince was not uncommon for a high born lady of her standing. But he was her enemy, her mind scolded her. There were dozens upon dozens of reasons why it was a bad idea for her to be sneaking out to see him. And yet she could not help herself. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And. . . she knew she would get burned. Knew she could get killed. But whenever his lips touched hers she found herself not caring about any of that. She just knew she didn't want him to stop.