The Queen's footsteps were sharp, echoing through the palace corridor like a warning bell. Princess Elara followed silently, the taste of Arian's kiss still sweet on her lips and guilt blooming like a bruise in her chest.
She wasn't scared of many things.
But her mother, Queen Seraphina of Alveria, topped the list—somewhere between thunderous storms and velvet wedding gowns with twenty-pound skirts.
They entered the Queen's private drawing room—lavish, cold, and scented with lavender and judgment.
"Sit," her mother ordered.
Elara sat.
The Queen turned, her silver crown gleaming like ice. "You've been sneaking out."
No preamble. Just war.
Elara lifted her chin. "I'm not a prisoner."
"You are a princess."
"Which is a fancier word for prisoner."
The Queen's eyes narrowed. "You are betrothed to Prince Cassian of Westerholt. In two weeks, you will be his wife and their future queen. That is your duty."
Elara clenched her fists. "What about what I want?"
"Want is for peasants. Legacy is for royals."
Something inside Elara cracked.
The Queen stepped closer. "I will say this only once: If you do not marry Cassian, Alveria will lose its alliance with Westerholt. The valley will lose its trade rights. Farmers will starve. Markets will collapse. Your rebellion will ruin lives. Is that what you want, Elara? Chaos for a kiss?"
The words hit like a slap.
"Stop seeing him," the Queen said coldly. "Or you will destroy everything."
At the Carpenter's Workshop
Arian was sawing a beam when the door creaked open.
He expected Elara.
Instead, Prince Cassian walked in.
The room stilled.
Cassian's cloak whispered against the floor like the sound of a knife unsheathing.
"You're Arian Thorn," he said, voice like frost. "Carpenter. Goat enthusiast."
Arian straightened. "You forgot 'excellent dancer.'"
Cassian didn't laugh. "Do you know who I am?"
"You're the Prince who makes my girl frown."
A muscle twitched in Cassian's jaw. "She's not your girl."
"I kissed her."
"And I'll marry her."
"She laughed with me."
"And she'll obey me."
Silence.
Arian stepped forward, fearless. "You can try to own her. But she's not made to be owned. She's wildfire. You either burn with her or burn out."
Cassian's lip curled. "Do you think this is a fairy tale, carpenter?"
"No. But I think you're the villain in one."
Cassian stepped closer, eyes dark. "Stay away from her. Or I'll bury you so deep in the valley, your goats won't find you."
He turned on his heel and left, his boots leaving dust in their wake.
Arian's heart pounded.
So it had begun.
That Night… in the Moonlight Garden
Elara stood in the palace's secret moonlight garden—hidden behind a tapestry, past an old oak door, and down a spiral staircase only she and Lina knew about. She waited, cloak pulled tight, breath misting in the cold night air.
Then he arrived.
Arian.
He climbed over the ivy-covered wall like a pirate with perfect timing. "Your garden smells like stubborn roses and royal regret."
She laughed—then collapsed into his arms.
They kissed like the world was ending. Maybe it was.
"I'm scared," she whispered. "They gave me an ultimatum."
"What kind?"
"Marry Cassian… or let the kingdom fall."
Arian went still.
She looked up at him. "I don't know what to do."
"Let me steal you away."
"What?"
"Run away with me," he said. "Tonight. Leave it all behind. We'll find a village where no one knows your name. We'll build a life with goats and bookshelves and—"
"—horribly stitched curtains?"
"Exactly."
She laughed. Then paused.
"I want that. More than anything. But I can't let people suffer because I fell in love."
Arian cupped her face. "Then we'll fight. We won't run. We'll be clever. And we'll win."
"How?"
"Easy." He winked. "We cause so much chaos, your parents have no choice but to let you go."
Elsewhere…
Prince Cassian sat in his chamber, watching the moonlight spill across the stone floor.
He wasn't a fool.
He didn't love Elara. But she was his duty. His crown. His chance to be more than just a shadow of a man.
And yet, some part of him—a long-buried ember—wondered what it would be like to be loved the way she looked at him. The carpenter.
Cassian closed his eyes.
And for the first time in years, he didn't feel cold.
He felt afraid.