In the empire, touching royalty was an act steeped in significance and restrictions, both personal and political.
For most people, the mere thought of physical contact with an imperial figure was unimaginable.
Every year, the number of individuals who had the privilege—or audacity—to physically interact with royalty could be counted on one hand.
Four or five people, at most.
And even among those rare cases, such contact was almost exclusively limited to immediate family members.
Not even the empire's most loyal knights, regardless of their rank or years of service, nor the esteemed grand duke or prime minister, could lay a finger on a member of the imperial family without explicit permission.
It was an unspoken rule, one upheld with unwavering reverence.
And yet, here I was, flagrantly defying that unassailable boundary.
My right hand rested on Sophiel's cheek, my left on her waist.
