The mask itched slightly against her cheek, but Aurelia couldn't stop smiling.
It was silly, really, just a painted piece of fabric and a borrowed cloak from Mirelle's cousin, but it felt like freedom. Like adventure. Like she was someone else entirely, if only for a while.
The village was alive.
Lanterns floated above cobbled streets, casting soft light over the faces of the townsfolk. Musicians played quick, cheerful tunes on lutes and pipes, their melodies swirling through the night air. Children ran past with ribbons in their hands, their laughter ringing like chimes. Vendors shouted over each other, trying to sell candied apples, spiced meats, and bright glass trinkets, their voices blending with the hum of the crowd.
She moved among them unnoticed, her hood low, her steps light.
No titles.
No eyes following her.
No destiny weighing on her shoulders.
Aurelia stopped at a stall and bought a piece of honey bread; she laughed when the warm syrup stuck to her fingers. She spun in the street when the music swelled, letting the scent of flowers and fire swirl around her, letting herself be swept up in the simple, glorious moment. For once, she wasn't a princess. She wasn't the youngest of eight siblings, or the illegitimate daughter of the king and his favorite mistress. She wasn't a pawn to be married off at her father's command. She was just Aurelia—a girl enjoying the night with no cares or obligations.
So this was what it meant to be free.
But freedom never lasted long.
Aurelia turned down a quieter path, away from the main square, chasing the sound of wind chimes in the distance. The streets here were less crowded, and the air was cooler, tinged with the smell of something unfamiliar, something sweet. She followed the sound, her curiosity drawing her deeper into the village.
And that's when she felt it.
Eyes.
She didn't know why she felt it, but something in her gut twisted. Shadows seemed to move behind her; footsteps too quiet, too deliberate. Her heart beat faster, her senses heightened. She tried to shake the feeling, telling herself it was nothing, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
She quickened her pace, glancing over her shoulder. But the street was empty, the shadows nothing but darkness. Her chest tightened as she turned into an alley between two buildings, hoping to lose whatever—or whoever—was following her.
The moment she stepped into the shadows, rough hands grabbed her from behind and yanked her into the alley. She gasped, a cry strangling in her throat. A cloth pressed over her mouth, the scent of sweat and oil suffocating her. Her heart thundered in her chest.
"Quiet, pretty thing," one of the men growled, his voice gruff and low. "Royal or not, you'll fetch a fine price."
Aurelia's pulse thudded in her ears, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She twisted in the man's grip, but it was useless. He was too strong.
And then, a flash of silver.
The man who held her froze, his grip loosening just a fraction before he collapsed with a groan. The other men barely had time to react before a cloaked figure appeared from the shadows, moving faster than she could follow, silent as the night itself.
In two swift strikes, her attackers were on the ground, groaning or unconscious. The cloaked figure didn't even pause. It was like watching a shadow fight—an extension of the night itself. The figure turned toward her, and for a moment, Aurelia's breath caught in her throat.
A tall man. Midnight cloak. Gloved hands. His face was half-hidden by a dark mask, but his eyes—those eyes—were silver. Bright and inhuman. Like moonlight caught in storm clouds, like stars shining through a darkened sky.
She couldn't look away.
And for a heartbeat, neither could he.
The silence between them was thick with something she didn't understand. Something ancient, something deep. The air was electric, charged with an unspoken connection, and the hairs on her arms stood, but not from fear. There was something oddly familiar about him, something that stirred a memory she couldn't quite reach.
The man stepped forward slowly, his voice low and smooth.
"You shouldn't be here, Princess."
Her breath hitched, her heart skipping in her chest. "How do you—"
Before she could finish, the distant sound of guards shouting broke the spell. The man glanced toward the noise and then back at her.
"Go. Now."
His voice was commanding, but there was something else in it—something that made her obey. She didn't know why. She didn't want to, but before she could say another word, he vanished into the shadows as quickly as he had come.
Aurelia stood frozen for a long moment, the pounding of her heart still loud in her ears. Her attackers—no, they weren't just men, they were more than that—lay groaning on the ground, unconscious or worse. She swallowed, her mind whirling. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached under her cloak to clutch the necklace she had kept hidden. The cool crystal grounded her, its familiar weight a comfort against the chaos.
But those eyes.
She would never forget those eyes.
Aurelia stood there for what felt like an eternity, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Her mind raced, her thoughts tumbling over each other like waves crashing against the shore. Who was that man? Why had he saved her? And why did she feel so… connected to him?
The sound of guards grew closer, snapping her out of her daze. Her instincts kicked in then. She wasn't supposed to be out here. She wasn't supposed to be in danger.
She ran.
She darted from the alley, pulling her hood low, weaving through the crowd with a speed and desperation she hadn't known she had. The night air stung her cheeks, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop.
She reached the outer gate of the village and found Mirelle's cousin waiting with a horse-drawn cart, a nervous look on his face. He hurried her onto the cart, and before long, the castle walls loomed in the distance, bathed in the pale light of a waning moon. It wasn't until they were nearly back inside the castle's high gates that Aurelia realized she was holding her breath, as if the world would stop if she exhaled.
No one had seen her slip back through the servant's entrance.
No one except him.
From the shadows of a nearby rooftop, the cloaked figure watched her go.
LUCIEN
Lucien stood in the darkness, his silver eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. His mind raced as he processed what he had just witnessed.
So that was the princess.
The one wearing the sacred crystal he'd been sent to retrieve. The one who unknowingly carried his kingdom's future around her neck.
He had expected a spoiled, frightened noble girl, a human barely worth the trouble.
He hadn't expected… this.
Not the warmth in her laughter at the fair. Not the stubborn courage in her eyes when faced with danger. And certainly not the strange pull he felt, like something ancient and unspoken linking their fates together.
Lucien cursed under his breath, his gloved hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.
This would be harder than he thought.
But the mission remained; Get close to her.
Find the necklace.
Take it back.
No matter what.
And if those silver eyes lingered a little longer in the darkness before he turned away, no one would know.