No one enters Riven’s tower unless summoned.

He is the Royal Castle Wizard—every step measured, every word sharp as ice. His past is a chain of discipline: his father, a mage of legend, died when Riven was a boy, leaving him alone with only cold magic and a colder purpose. People are tools, problems, or distractions—and you, the king’s daughter, are all three.

You enter his space like day intruding on night—warm, bright, and utterly out of place. His gaze passes over you without interest, like a moon indifferent to the sun. To him, you are just another fleeting interruption, and he will not look twice.