It had been a long day.

Maya was overseeing final arrangements for the palace’s upcoming charitable banquet—a program she had designed herself, meant to uplift young women from desert villages with education scholarships.

She refused to let anyone else handle the final walkthrough.

The venue was a glass pavilion built into the edge of a raised courtyard. Majestic, beautiful—and under construction in one corner.

“I’ll just take a quick look,” Maya said, ignoring the hesitant glance from the guards.

She stepped over a wooden plank, brushing past scaffolding. Her heel slipped on a patch of stray marble dust.

And suddenly—

She fell.

A sharp cry escaped her lips as she collapsed, her elbow slamming into the edge of the step, her palm scraping against the jagged edge of a support beam. Dust flew. Her bangles shattered.

Blood pooled quickly.

The guards ran toward her, calling for the medic, but Zayed got there first.

No one had called him.

But it didn’t matter. He had felt it.

He kneeled beside her, eyes locking on the blood staining her fingers.

“Maya.”

His voice was barely a whisper, but it trembled like a volcano about to break.

“I’m okay,” she began.

He caught her hand, gently but firmly, inspecting the wound. His jaw tensed.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he growled. “You weren’t supposed to come here without me.”

“I had to check the—”

“You had to stay safe!”

She flinched—not from the pain, but the raw intensity in his voice.

A medic arrived, but Zayed didn’t let go of her hand. “Leave us. I’ll treat her myself.”

“But Your Highness—”

“Out.”

Once they were alone, Zayed dipped a cloth in water and began cleaning her wound.

His fingers were precise but trembling. His face was unreadable. Until he spoke.

“This blood…” he said, barely above a whisper, “should never have touched you. Never. Not while I breathe.”

“It was an accident.”

He looked up sharply. “There is no such thing as accident when it comes to you.”

Maya sat still as he bandaged her palm, his touch as reverent as it was possessive. When he finished, he cradled her hand in both of his, pressing his forehead to her knuckles.

“I will destroy this courtyard. Every piece of it. And I’ll replace it with gardens so soft, even roses won’t dare grow thorns.”

Her lips parted in shock. “Zayed…”

He looked up. “You don’t understand. I can’t breathe when you’re in pain. I can’t think. You are not just mine, Maya. You are my entire world. And when the world bleeds—I lose control.”

Her eyes burned.

She had seen his obsession. His fury. His control.

But today she saw his fear.

And it broke something open in her.

She leaned forward, cupped his face in her injured hand, and whispered, “Then protect me. But let me live too.”

He closed his eyes.

And nodded.

Only once.

But that single gesture carried the weight of all the kingdoms he would burn… and rebuild… just to keep her breathing.