Have you met Rory?

I seem to have a bad habit of developing little crushes on my major male characters. Since Daniel Harricourt there's been Dominic Wellsby, Quinn Tanner and of course the adorable Eric Stanhope. And that's just the leading men, not even including the countless other supporting characters I've created.

The point is - they're all pretty dreamy to me.

And now, I'd like to introduce the lastest to the fold:

Prince Aurorion Odell, crowned and reigning monarch of...this bit is still a secret ! But suffice it to say his home is within the walls of the City of Wonder and before the start of the story, he doesn't spend much time actually getting to know his kingdom outside of publicity trips and official business. Basically, he's a bit of a tool in the beginning - but he gets better.

So, Aurorion (but he hates the formality of his name and goes predominately by Rory) joins up with Eleanor Price reluctantly in the start of the story and the two set out on an adventure. There's not much else I can say really without giving too much of the story away except for this:

Rory is 28, he has dark mahogany hair and dark blue eyes, and is a master swordsman for all his years of training with the royal army. Despite his bratty and rich-boy tendencies, Rory loves swordplay and thoroughly mastered it - he's got to be good for something. You know, as well as being the rightful king...But other than that he's a work in progress - not just as a character but in terms of his personality. He and Eleanor don't get along to begin with, but they grow on each other.

And just for fun, he's a little teaser that doesn't include Rory:

She wasn’t sure, thinking back, when exactly things started to get a little weird.

                Some unknown forced compelled her to carry the pocket watch on her at all times, and by the end of the following day she rarely went anywhere without the slight weight of the brass idol comfortably against her chest. She even took to wearing the few button down shirts she owned so that she could loop the chain of the watch through the button hole closest to her heart. It just seemed right that way.

                Even odder, though, than her sudden and compulsive co dependence on the presence of the watch was the fact that no matter what approach she took or technique she applied Eleanor could not get it open. By the end of a week Eleanor had grown bizarrely accustomed to having a watch on her at all occasions but never once being able to tell the time. It was like the brass had sealed itself shut.

                But what was starting to really weird Eleanor out was the constant feeling of being watched almost from the moment she left the alley with the watch. She mused that it was magical and had more than once referred to it as the ‘precious’ when she thought no one was looking.

                On a more serious note, becoming the entrusted protector of the pocket watch had given Eleanor a sudden purpose her life hadn’t truly felt like it had held before. It sounded mental, even to herself – for she hadn’t really told anyone about the whole saga – but somehow looking after this clockwork lump of brass made Eleanor feel...important. Like she was part of some big secret.

                But she was definitely being watched.

                Waiting at the corner table of the Starbucks across from the British Museum where she worked most days, Eleanor stared at the single sunflower sitting in a ceramic pot on the counter. It was glacial outside, but the franchise owner had apparently decided that the sunny yellow flower brought a sense of summer fun to the post-Christmas hum-drum. Most people, Eleanor noticed, just glared at it like the flower was responsible for the Ice Age.

                But snowfall or not, that was not why Eleanor was staring at the sunflower.

                No, Eleanor was staring at the sunflower because she was pretty positive that it was staring at her.