Morning light pours through the dormitory window like pale gold, but I don’t feel its warmth. My thoughts turn circles before I even leave the bed. Mira sleeps beside me, her small frame tucked under blankets Ysabet left behind, her breath soft and steady. I trace a curl from her forehead and whisper, “Just one day, love. Just one day to see something beautiful.”
But one day feels impossibly far.
By the time I reach the palace gates, my mind is already busy with names—people I’ve asked, people who said no. Liora can’t. Ysabet’s gone to the village. Brina and Lise both shook their heads, eyes full of apology. We’ll be working until the night, they said. We won’t see the festival either.
So here I am, walking through the market stalls with no plan at all.
The city is alive today—bright banners flutter above the streets, musicians warm their instruments, and bakers shout over the smell of honeyed bread. Madame Fleetlace walks beside me, humming cheerfully, her arms full of folded silks. She’s in her element, bargaining with vendors like a general leading a war.
“Not that shade,” she says to a merchant, pointing at a pale blue cloth. “I said moonlight silver, not mourning sky. You’re selling sadness, dear.”
The man laughs nervously, changing the fabric. I manage a smile, though my mind is far away.
“Now, Lara,” Liora turns to me, her voice bright, “what do you think of this red? Too bold for the gentlemen’s vests?”
“Mm,” I murmur absently, eyes following the stream of people moving past.
“Lara!”
I blink. She’s frowning slightly. “Are you all right?”
I force a small laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry. Yes. I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.”
Her gaze lingers, sharp enough to see through excuses. But she doesn’t push. She never does. “Go fetch us some bright yellow fabric from that side of the street,” she says kindly. “I’ll look for new needles. Meet me by the baker’s stall when you’re done.”
I nod and turn toward the crowded lane.
The market is chaos made alive—colors, laughter, arguments, the clang of coins. I weave between people, clutching my pouch of palace coins, but my thoughts are elsewhere. Who can take Mira? I repeat the question over and over until it becomes a rhythm, a plea.
That’s why I don’t see the man until I collide straight into him.
The impact jolts through me, and I stumble back, nearly dropping the fabrics. “I’m so—” I begin, but the apology dies on my tongue.
Because the man under the dark hood and plain clothes is him. Prince Aldric. For a heartbeat, my mind refuses to accept it. The prince doesn’t belong in crowded streets. He doesn’t smell of spice and rain. He doesn’t wear a cloak of common cloth. Yet here he stands.
His eyes catch mine, warning sharp, and he presses a finger to his lips. “Do not dare expose me,” he whispers. “I swear to heaven…”
I freeze, half in shock, half in awe of the absurdity. “What are you doing here?!” I whisper back, incredulous.
His mouth twitches, almost a smirk. “I’m human, too, Venn. I can go out when I want to. I don’t always wish to be the cold, scary king-to-be.”
That earns him a blink from me. He knows that’s how people see him—and he doesn’t deny it.
“Isn’t it dangerous for you to leave the palace like that?” I ask, glancing around nervously. “Anything could happen.”
“That’s the thing about leaving the palace,” he says dryly. “Dangerous is fun.”
I nearly laugh. Fun is not a word I ever expected from his mouth. For a moment, I see something different—someone different. Someone less prince, more man.
Dangerous is fun.
The words tug at something deep inside me, an echo of another voice long ago—the voice of a man I once knew beneath carnival lanterns, the man who vanished before I could even learn his name. Mira’s father.
I push the thought away. It’s madness to compare them.
“Right,” I say, trying to steady myself. “Anyway, I have to go. Liora’s waiting.”
“Wait a moment, Venn.”
His hand catches my arm—not rough, just firm enough to stop me. The contact sends a shiver down my spine. I turn to face him. “What?”
He hesitates, looking almost… uncertain. “You seem rather tense lately.” His eyes soften. “Is Mira all right?”
The question knocks the air from me. “She’s the same as before,” I answer quietly. “I just…” I glance down, twisting the edge of the fabric in my hands. “I want her to be a child, too. Not just sick.”
He doesn’t speak, just waits. The silence feels patient, not cold.
Finally, I sigh, giving in. “There’s a festival tonight. I wanted her to see it, but I can’t go.” My voice trembles slightly. “I thought maybe someone could take her. Just for an hour. She deserves that much.”
Aldric watches me closely, expression unreadable. Then, something shifts—so small it almost isn’t there. His lips curve, faint and real.
“I could go with her,” he says.
I stare at him. “You? But—you’re the prince!”
“Shhh!” He presses a finger to his lips again, eyes darting around. “Not so loud, Venn. I’m not wearing a crown today, am I?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Entirely serious,” he says, straightening. “I have no public duties tonight. If I go as I am now, no one will recognize me. I can take her, and we’ll blend in.”
I blink at him, speechless. “Why would you do that?”
His answer comes softly. “Like you said… she deserves it.”
For a long moment, we just stand there amid the hum of the market—the prince disguised as a commoner, the seamstress holding a bundle of cloth, and the air between us charged with something unspoken.
Finally, I nod, voice barely a whisper. “Then… come to our dormroom when the festival begins. I’ll have her ready.”
He gives a brief nod, almost a bow, and disappears into the crowd before I can say another word.
***
When I return to the stall, Liora waves a handful of gleaming needles triumphantly. “Found them! Took me three vendors to get this price.” She studies my face. “You look pale, dear. What happened?”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly. “Just the crowd.”
She squints, unconvinced. “Hmm. The crowd, you say.”
I manage a weak smile. “Yes. The crowd.”
But as we walk back toward the palace, I keep glancing over my shoulder, half expecting to see that dark cloak again, half afraid of what I’ve agreed to.
Because tonight, my daughter will walk through the festival lights.
And the man beside her will not be just anyone.
He’ll be the prince.