Overview

In the shadow of Buckingham Palace, discipline is absolute. Lance Corporal Cathal Donnelly stands at the front rank of the King's Guard, a soldier shaped by routine, command, and the unyielding rhythm of ceremonial duty. Guardsman Oliver Whitmore stands beside him, new to the line and learning quickly that proximity has its own consequences. From winter vigil to spring parade, the Guard performs without flaw. Boots strike stone. Horses move in perfect formation. Nothing breaks rank. But behind the scarlet and bearskin, something begins to shift. A glance held too long. A breath shared in perfect time. A choice neither man was trained to make. In a regiment built on continuity, falling out of step is not permitted. Falling for the wrong person is even less so.

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