light will guide her

He’s leaning against the dark wood of the wardrobe, already fully dressed in his noble attire. He chose a tailored, deep charcoal suit with gold accents—it fits his shoulders perfectly, making him look every bit the high-ranking protector, even without his usual armor.

Tonight is the night. Before the lanterns are released into the sky, there is the annual charity masquerade in honor of Marlene. Since it’s a masquerade, you’ll both be completely disguised as visiting nobles. It’s a perfect cover, but your head is still spinning too fast to focus on the fashion aspect.

Honestly, ever since last night, your mind has been divided between deep, heavy grief and a sudden, intense addiction to James.

After you finally crossed that line and had sex for the first time, the shift between you two became magnetic. The grief of learning the truth about your powers had triggered a desperate need to feel alive, and James had met that desperation with a consuming hunger of his own. 

It was so intense that when you woke up this morning, you ended up doing it again in the massive bathtub. It was, without a doubt, fucking amazing. The warm water, the slick slide of James’s skin against yours, and the devoted way he held you against the tub—you have to silently thank Dorcas for providing a room with such a ridiculously luxurious tub.

But beneath all the endless, intoxicating rounds of sex, there is still a painful ache. You’ve had a few silent breakdowns over the last twenty-four hours, sobbing into James’s chest in the dark until he cradled you to sleep. But right now, looking at the racks of dresses, you just want to focus on the magic of the lanterns.

James steps forward, his eyes scanning the colorful dresses before settling on one near the back. “I think this one is nice,” he says, reaching out and pulling it from the rack.

You look at it, and your breath catches in your throat from how gorgeous it is. It’s a stunning beige gown, heavily adorned with golden embroidery that drapes down the skirt. It instantly reminds you of the traditional coronation gowns in Valenora, yet it has a modern, breathtaking structure. The mask that comes with it is equally beautiful, iced with delicate gold filigree and tiny, shimmering crystals.

You take the hanger from him, holding the gown up against yourself. “You actually have good taste,” you murmur, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through your exhaustion. “It matches your suit perfectly.”

James watches you, his gaze dropping to the gold threads reflecting in your eyes. “I know how you look in gold, love. It was an easy choice.”

You step into the wooden wardrobe to dress, sliding the gold-embroidered beige gown over your shoulders. Working the laces on your own is difficult, a stark contrast to the luxury of having Lily here to assist you, but you manage. 

You step out and stand before the vanity mirror, pulling your hair into a simple, elegant style that keeps it out of your face, leaving just enough framing your features.

For makeup, you use the small jars left on the vanity—a touch of crushed, rosy pigment pressed onto your lips and cheekbones, and a sweep of dark kohl to define your eyes. Finally, you adorn yourself with a few simple pieces of gold jewelry.

When you look in the glass, the reflection staring back is both entirely familiar and completely foreign.

As a princess, you are used to wearing expensive gowns of every color and style. But this time, there is no Lily there to help you dress, bustling around you with pins and load of laughter. There are no parents waiting down the hall. There are no brothers waiting just outside your door, ready to tease you the second you step out.

You are entirely on your own.

The reality of it all seems to crash all at once; this trip is coming to an end. After the lantern lights, there is no more reason to stay away. You have achieved all your goals: you found the origin of your powers, and you are about to see the lights. There is nothing left to do.

Besides, it would be deeply unfair to stay on the run any longer. James is risking his life, his honor, and his entire career for you, breaking a million rules every single day he remains by your side. You can’t keep him on the run forever. By the time you return, you will have been gone for two weeks, plus the agonizing week it will take to travel back to Valenora.

You take a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

It will be fine.

But will it? What now? Now that you know the truth of your powers, what actually changes? You are still expected to return, to go through with the arranged marriage to Prince Caelum, and to be sent off to Thalassia. 

Finding out the truth didn’t change a single thing about your fate. It wasn’t like you were going to start a revolution with this knowledge. You are still trapped.

“Are you okay?”

You flinch, your shoulders tensing as James’s reflection appears behind yours in the mirror. He’s standing there, completely dressed in hissuit, but his eyes are fixed entirely on you. Seeing how deep in thought you are, staring blankly at your own reflection, his expression softens with immediate concern.

He steps closer, placing his hands on your shoulders, and gently turns you around to face him. “You’re still thinking about it right?” he asks softly.

You look up into his warm eyes and simply nod. There is no need to define what it is. You both know. It’s everything Dorcas told you, about your past, and the terrifying reality of what waits for you when this dream finally ends.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, forcing a small, reassuring smile to your lips. “It will be fine. Let’s just go and enjoy tonight.”

James searches your face for a long second, wanting to press further, but he respects the boundary you’ve quietly set. He nods, reaching for the gold-iced mask resting on the vanity.

“Turn around,” he murmurs.

You turn back to the mirror, and James steps up behind you. His touch is incredibly gentle as he brushes your hair out of the way, positioning the crystal-trimmed mask over your eyes. He carefully ties the silk ribbons at the back of your head, his fingers lingering on the nape of your neck. 

Once your mask is secure, he picks up his own—a dark leather and gold piece that matches his charcoal suit—and slides it into place.

You turn to look at him. With the masks on, the transformation is startling. The familiar, comforting lines of his face are partially hidden. You, too, look entirely different; you look like a mysterious, wealthy noblewoman from some far-off court.

James’s eyes crinkle behind his mask as a smile spreads across his lips. He leans down, cupping your cheek, and presses a kiss to your lips. “You look absolutely beautiful, Y/N,” he says.

You smile back at him, feeling a genuine spark of excitement for the first time all day. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself, Sir James.”

“Come on,” he says, offering his arm.

You slide your hand into the crook of his elbow, and together, you step out of the guest chambers. A pair of royal servants is already waiting in the corridor, bowing respectfully before guiding you down the grand hallways of the castle. As you draw closer to the grand wing, the distant, lively swell of orchestral music begins to echo off the stone walls.

Just before you reach the massive double doors of the ballroom, a senior servant steps into your path with a polite bow. “My lady, Sir James,” the servant says quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to carry. “Her Majesty, Queen Dorcas, has commanded me to deliver these to you before you enter. She requests that for the evening, you present yourselves under these names.”

He extends a silver tray. Resting on it are two invitation cards. You pick them up, opening the parchment, and your eyes widen slightly as you read the elegant script.

Lady Margaret Sterling and Sir James Sterling, of House Valerius.

The servant bows once more and slips away into the corridor, leaving you and James staring at the cards. It makes perfect sense—to enter the grand ballroom, the royal guards at the door must verify the invitations of every noble guest to maintain security, especially at a masquerade where faces are hidden.

“Oh my god,” you whisper-giggle, nudging his side. “She made us married! She gave us the same last name.”

James looks down at the invitation in his hand, a slow, incredibly handsome smirk spreading across his face. He leans in close to your ear, his breath warm against your temple.

“Well,” he chuckles, his voice dripping with amusement. “I must say, I wouldn’t mind being married to you.”

You roll your eyes behind your mask, a teasing smile tugging at your lips as you look up at him. “Hmm, I don’t know about that. I’m not entirely sure you’d make a great husband, James. You’re far too stubborn.”

“Is that so?” James laughs, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief behind his dark mask. “I’ll have you know that Lord James Sterling is definitely a great husband. He is attentive, exceedingly handsome, and completely devoted to his wife.”

“Oh, really?” you tease, your heart fluttering at the easy, joyful banter. “We’ll have to see about that, Lord Sterling.”

“Watch and learn, my lady,” he whispers, squeezing your hand as he guides you toward the grand entrance.

Two towering royal guards stand at the ready. James steps forward with noble poise, presenting the two invitations. The guard scans the names, nods respectfully, and steps aside, gesturing for the grand doors to be opened.

As the doors swing wide, the sheer grandeur of the Solistian charity ball washes over you.

The ballroom is absolutely gorgeous. Massive crystal chandeliers hang from the vaulted ceilings, casting a warm glow over the hundreds of guests dancing below. The air is sweet with the scent of expensive perfumes, spiced wine, and fresh winter blooms. Nobles from all over the continent glide across the polished marble floor, their velvet gowns and tailored silk coats swirling in time with the grand orchestra.

For the first time in two weeks, you don’t feel out of place. You don’t feel the terrifying urge to look over your shoulder or hide in the corners.

The masquerade is a brilliant shield. Because everyone’s face is hidden beneath masks, the social pressure of the court vanishes. If you don’t wish to be approached by prying delegates or curious nobles, you simply don’t have to be—no one can recognize you. You are completely, blissfully anonymous.

James pulls you a little closer to his side, his hand resting securely on your waist as you look out over the glittering sea of dancers.

“See?” he murmurs, his voice filled with a quiet satisfaction. “No one is looking at us with suspicion. We’re just two visiting nobles enjoying the music.”

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, leaning into his warmth. “For tonight, we’re just Margaret and James.”

“And tonight,” James says, turning his head to look down at you, his eyes burning with that familiar, intense devotion, “I get to dance with my wife.”

The orchestra transitions seamlessly from a lively, sweeping waltz into a slower, more intimate melody. James guides you deeper into the sea of dancers, his hand against the small of your back, his other hand clasping yours.

As you both slow down, you find yourself staring up at him, entirely breathless.

He looks incredibly handsome in this attire. It is the first time you have ever seen him without his glasses, and the change is striking. The dark leather mask with its golden filigree acts as a perfect frame, making the gold in his eyes and the deep, warm tones of his hair shine under the glow of the crystal chandeliers. 

Standing this close to James, feeling the beat of his heart against your chest, you are hit with a sudden, dizzying wave of affection. You want nothing more than to reach up, pull his mask down, and kiss him right here in the center of the crowded ballroom.

James notices the intensity of your gaze. A playful, knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he leans down, playing right back into the role of your high-society husband.

“Oh, and remind me, what exactly would make me a perfect husband, my lady?” he teases, his voice a low, smooth purr that sends a shiver down your spine. “You seemed rather skeptical of my capabilities earlier.”

You let out a laugh, resting your hand on his shoulder as you step in rhythm with him, happily playing along. “Well, to be a perfect husband, you must be exceptionally patient. You must travel with me around the world. And, of course, you must be prepared to take me anywhere I’d like.”

James lets out a laugh, the sound vibrating against your chest. “Patience, I have in abundance. Listening to your complaints is practically my all time job. But as for traveling and taking you anywhere?” he tilts his head, smirking down at you. “Aren’t I already doing that right now?”

You laugh, shaking your head against his chest. “Well, yes, but that’s because it’s your job. I’m talking about doing it when you’re not getting paid to keep me alive.”

“You know I’d do it in a heartbeat.” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, carrying a quiet, heavy sincerity that makes your chest ache. “If I could… I’d take you everywhere.”

The playful banter fades, replaced by a bittersweet thought that has been keeping you awake at night.

You look up into his golden eyes, your voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper. “James…”

“Yes?”

“If we were actually just James and Margaret…” you start, the question slipping out before you can stop it. “If there were no crowns, no magical powers, no running for our lives… do you think we would still be together? Do you think we would have found each other?”

James’s steps falter for a fraction of a second before he regains his rhythm. A sad, tender smile touches his lips.

“Yeah,” he whispers, his gaze softening as he looks down at you. “I think we would. I think my soul would have looked for yours until it found you, no matter what names we were born with.”

A small, emotional lump forms in your throat. You want to stay in this safe, beautiful bubble forever. “Tell me about them,” you urge, leaning your head closer to his chest as you sway to the music, desperate to live in the fantasy. “What do Margaret and James do?”

James smiles, his eyes turning reflective as he paints the picture for you. “I think we would live in a nice, quiet house. Far away from the noise of castles. We would get married, of course. I wouldn’t want to waste a single day without you as my wife.”

“Keep going,” you whisper, closing your eyes for a moment to picture it. “How would you propose?”

“Oh, I’d do it properly,” James says, a chuckle in his voice. “I’d propose to you with a nice ring. I’d spend months searching for the absolute nicest gem in the realm.”

You look up at him, a teasing but watery smile on your face. “My standards are very high, you know. I’d want a lumicrystas the stone. Nothing less.”

James laughs, his thumb tracing a soothing circle on your waist. “Then I would find you the brightest lumicryst in the hallow vale. I’d scale the most dangerous peaks myself just to get it for you. And I’d propose in the most romantic place imaginable. On a cliffside at sunset, or under a sky full of stars. Somewhere quiet, where it’s just the two of us.”

He guides you through a gentle turn, his eyes never leaving yours. “And I think Margaret and James would have a very nice, small wedding,” he continues, his voice warm, wrapping you in the comfort of the dream. “No grand royal protocols. No political alliances. We’d only invite our people. Our closest friends, the people who actually love us, and our family.”

You nod, letting yourself fully sink into the beautiful, heartbreaking illusion. “I’d want us to live near your fathers restaurant,” you add softly, looking up at him with a hopeful shine in your eyes. “So we could visit them for dinner every week.”

James lets out a breathy laugh, his heart aching with a mixture of pure love and sorrow. “Sure,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as he presses his temple gently against yours. “We’d live just down the street. My mother would feed us until we couldn’t walk, and my father would probably try to teach you how to cook his secret recipes. It would be perfect.”

You sway with him in the silence for a long moment, the warmth of his body the only thing keeping the cold reality at bay. You swallow past the lump forming in your throat, resting your hand against the nape of his neck.

“Do you think we’d have kids?” you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

A tender nod touches his features, his gaze softening with a devotion so deep it almost hurts to look at. “Yeah,” he whispers, a small, genuine smile curving his lips. “Margaret and James definitely would. I wouldn’t mind how many we had… as many as you wanted. And I’d let you name every single one of them.”

A sad smile touches your lips, a tear threatening to spill over as you look up at the face you’ve come to love more than anything. “I wish we could live like that,” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. “In another life, I wouldn’t be me. I’d just be Margaret.”

James shakes his head, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away the moisture at the corner of your eye. “Or I’d be a prince,” he murmurs. “So you could actually marry me.”

A watery laugh escapes your chest. “That would be nice,” you admit, leaning into the warmth of his palm. “In some way, we’d be King and Queen, ruling a kingdom together.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low and heavy with a solemn promise. “I think in some other life, James and Margaret get that.”

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. You just glide across the marble floor, held tightly in each other’s arms, letting the beautiful fantasy of Margaret and James carry you away from the heavy reality waiting just outside the doors.

James lets out a long sigh, preparing to spill his heart out to you. “Look, I know we’ve avoided talking about this,” he says, his voice dropping. “But things have changed between us. Ever since we kissed… and after last night, and this morning… I know we have a mountain of things to work out. What happened before you ran, how you left, and… what’s going to happen when we go back to Valenora. But I want you to know something. This trip, even if we were running for our lives, has been the best of my life. And, Y/N… I think you should know, before we go back, that I—”

“Oh, you both look absolutely wonderful! I nearly didn’t recognize you.”

The voice snaps you both out of the fantasy like a splash of cold water.

You blink, suddenly realizing that the music had stopped several moments ago. The other couples had already cleared the floor, leaving just the two of you standing in the center, swaying to absolute silence.

You quickly step back, clearing your throat as you turn to see Queen Dorcas approaching. Even with a masquerade mask, her royal presence is unmistakable. 

She wears an exquisite half-mask—one eye covered in laced gold filigree, the other left completely bare to show her sharp gaze. Atop her head sits her massive, glittering crown, nestled perfectly into her long, beautifully styled braids. She looks breathtaking in a pure white gown.

“Your Majesty,” you say, offering a quick, respectful curtsy while trying to force your pounding heart to slow down. “You look absolutely gorgeous. The dress is stunning.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Dorcas replies with a smile.

James clears his throat, slipping effortlessly back into his formal, protective posture. “If you will excuse me for a moment, Your Majesty, Lady Margaret… I’ll go fetch us some drinks.”

You give him a grateful nod, and with a polite bow to the Queen, James slips away into the crowd toward the refreshment tables.

Once he is completely out of earshot, Dorcas turns her gaze back to you. The formal, queenly mask slips away, replaced by a highly amused, knowing smirk “Oh, I know a sex glow when I see one.”

You nearly choke on your own spit. “What?! I—Your Majesty, we didn’t—”

Dorcas lets out a delighted laugh, raising a hand to dismiss your panic. “Oh, don’t worry, my dear. I’m not like Helena. I won’t lecture you on propriety.”

The teasing words are meant to comfort you, but the sudden mention of your mother’s name feels like a bucket of ice water poured down your spine. Oh, god.

You don’t need the reminder of your mother to make the guilt slam back into you. In the eyes of the law and your kingdom, you have committed the ultimate crime. You are engaged to Prince Caelum. You are destined to marry into the Thalassian royal family. And here you are, having unmarried, passionate sex in royal bathtubs with James—your bodyguard, your protector, and the man who is supposed to be delivering you to your wedding.

You swallow hard, forcing the rising panic back down into your chest. “I… well, thank you.” you manage to say.

Dorcas’s amused expression softens, turning much more gentle and observant. “And how have you been doing?” she asks quietly, her eyes searching yours behind her mask. “After everything I told you?”

“I’m doing well,” you reply, looking down at your hands for a brief second before meeting her gaze. “It took a lot to process. Honestly, there is still a lot I haven’t fully processed yet. It’s… a lot of history to digest.”

Dorcas nods in deep sympathy, reaching out to press your arm. “I cannot thank you enough for coming here, Y/N. I spent years worrying. I constantly questioned if I had made the wrong choices back then, if keeping those secrets was a mistake. But seeing you now, and knowing that this power is with you… I no longer have any doubts. It was your birthright to know the history, and the truth of who you are.”

“I understand,” you say, a sense of relief washing over you. “Thank you for trusting me with it.”

Dorcas smiles, then glances over your shoulder toward the refreshment tables. Following her gaze, you see James. He has been entirely cornered by a small group of visiting nobles who clearly believe he is one of them. He is nodding along, gesturing politely with his glass. 

You aren’t worried about him; James is effortlessly charming when he needs to be, and he has spent enough time around the court to spin a flawless cover story on the fly.

“He plays the part well,” Dorcas notes with a chuckle. Then, her tone shifts, growing a bit more serious. “Actually, Y/N… I received a letter from Helena today.”

Your heart stops. “What? from my Mother—but how?” you gasp, your eyes widening beneath your mask. “Does she know I’m here?”

“No, no, she doesn’t,” Dorcas reassures you quickly. “She always sends me a letter this time of the year. She delivers her thanks and well wishes for the charity ball and the lanterns, since her duties keep her from attending. But in this letter… she did mention you. She asked me to keep an eye out, just in case you happened to cross into Solistia. She knows how badly you’ve always wanted to see the lantern lights.”

You let out a long, shaky sigh, your shoulders dropping. “How is she? Did she… did she mention anything else?”

Dorcas gestures toward a quiter and more private alcove near the edge of the ballroom, away from the swirling dancers. You follow her, and she sits down on a velvet settee, gesturing for you to join her.

“She seems well, just obviously worried about you,” Dorcas says gently. “From what I gathered, your family is safe and well. However, she did mention that the weather has been unusually bad in Valenora lately, and a seasonal sickness has been spreading through the castle. Nothing to worry about, she assured me—just a seasonal flu.”

Your breath hitches, a cold spike of anxiety striking your chest. You look at Dorcas, your voice dropping to a panicked whisper. “Could it be… because of me?”

“I think so, my dear,” she says. “Since this is the first time in your life you’ve been away from Valenora, natural forces are simply taking over. With your presence in the castle, your magic was unknowingly healing everyone and keeping the sickness at bay. The weather was always good because your light was feeding the land. Now that you are gone, nature is simply taking its course. But you mustn’t carry guilt for that. It is entirely natural. Besides, I wrote back to your mother today. I assured her that I am entirely unaware of your whereabouts.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding slowly as you absorb her words. “Thank you, Dorcas. For not telling her. I… I just need a little more time.”

Dorcas squeezes your hand, her expression turning deeply solemn. “Look, I know that soon you will have to go back to Valenora. And just… I wanted to warn you to be careful. Helena mentioned something rather alarming in her letter. She wrote of a traitor in your midst, and that someone has already tried attacking you twice?”

You nod, the memory sending a cold shiver down your spine. “Yeah. That. It happened a few months back in my chambers—I woke up to a shadowed figure standing over me with a knife. And the second time was at my birthday ball, where someone poisoned my drink. But, of course, nothing happened to me because… well, the magic healed me before the poison could do any real damage.”

Dorcas’s eyes narrow behind her mask as she processes this, her mind clearly working through the implications.

“You must be incredibly cautious, Y/N,” she warns. “In my position, I have learned that sometimes those closest to us are the very ones who betray us.” 

She pauses, her gaze drifting across the crowded ballroom to where James is politely laughing at a noble’s joke. “A bodyguard is a perfect shield, but they also have the most intimate access to your life. They know your routines, your vulnerabilities, your—”

“No.” you cut her off quickly, your voice sharp with defense. “James would never. It’s true he knows about my powers—he’s known since we were kids. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have done it years ago. He would never betray me.”

“Y/N, I have heard countless stories of betrayal,” Dorcas insists gently, though her tone remains firm. “It is often a lover, a close friend, a trusted family member. The people we let behind our guard are the ones who hold the dagger.”

“James has had a thousand chances to kidnap me, to kill me, or to turn me over to my enemies!” you argue, your heart racing as you defend him. “He hasn’t. He’s protected me. He… he—I love him. He won’t hurt me.”

Dorcas sighs, a look of profound pity and worry softening her sharp features. “Well, yes. But whoever this traitor is, they clearly know about your powers. It could be anyone in your castle. Someone disguised as a friend, biding their time.”

You shake your head, the frustration bubbling up inside you. “This whole traitor thing makes absolutely no sense. My parents were so incredibly careful about keeping my powers a secret. Absolutely no one in Valenora knows what I am. How could a traitor target me for my magic if it’s a complete secret?”

“Do you think I didn’t make sure Marlene’s identity was hidden? Do you think we didn’t take every precaution to conceal that she was the Sun Keeper!?” 

She pauses, her eyes reflecting the dim candlelight of the alcove. “But look where she is now. She’s dead because someone found out.”

You flinch at her words, the harsh reminder of Marlene’s fate slapping you in the face.

Dorcas instantly winces, regret washing over her face. “I am sorry, Y/N. That was uncalled for. I shouldn’t have said it like that. It’s just… I have made many bad choices in my life, and I am admitting that to you now. I let my guard down once, and it cost me everything. I don’t want the same for you. But before…”

“Is this about how the flower ended up here?” you cut her off, as a piece of the historical puzzle suddenly clicks in your mind.

Dorcas gasps, as she stares at you in sheer shock. “How did you… know about that?”

You shrug your shoulders slightly, a tired, knowing smile playing on your lips. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. The flower chose someone from Valenora, yet it blooms in a temple in Solistia. It didn’t just walk across the border on its own.”

Dorcas winces slightly, her hand dropping from her chest as she lets out a long, defeated breath. “You are a very smart girl, Y/N,” she says, looking down at her hands. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I wasn’t going to hide it from you anyway, since it is entirely obvious by now if you look closely at our history.”

She leans back against the velvet cushion of the settee, the crown on her head catching the dim light of the alcove as she stares out at the swirling, anonymous dancers.

“My ancestors have protected the Sun Drop flower for years and years,” Dorcas explains, her voice dropping to a quiet, reflective hum. “But they were not pure and innocent either. War leaves both sides tainted. Whether it is the Delamaryseline or the Solistian. Yes, the House of Delamaryse killed and brutally stole the power from Ruxandra, who was Valenoran. But my great ancestors were not much better. They hid the flower away, keeping it locked in Solistia, ignoring the fundamental rule of the magic: that the power always returns to its true place of origin.”

You watch her closely, the gears in your mind turning. “So, you kept a power that didn’t belong to you.”

“Yes,” Dorcas admits, nodding slowly. “For generations, my family used the excuse that because the physical drop of the sun fell on Solistian soil, the power belonged here. Both my bloodline and the Delamaryse line were corrupted by greed, refusing to ever return the light to its true owner—to the descendants of Ruxandra, the true Sun Bearers of Valenora. My line simply dressed our theft up in prettier words. We considered that since the flower’s physical location was in Solistia, it was ours. It was entirely unfair. And… I was going to do the exact same thing.”

She looks at you, her eyes heavy with a deep guilt. “I was going to keep it in Solistia,” Dorcas confesses, her voice barely a whisper. “I was going to do it by giving the flower’s power to Marlene. I wanted to protect my kingdom, yes, but more than that… I wanted to keep the power here, with the woman I loved.”

Hearing her words, a cold realization settles over you. You look at the Queen—this woman who has built a legacy power—and you see her clearly for the first time.

“You were selfish.” you spit out the words. It isn’t an accusation, just a simple, stark observation.

Dorcas doesn’t flinch. Instead, she lets out a laugh. “Yes. I was. We all were.”

“My parents always spoke of Solistia as this perfect, peaceful sanctuary,” you murmur, shaking your head as the illusion of the kingdom crumbles just a little bit more. “But you’re not perfect, Dorcas. You might not have been as corrupted as the Delamaryse house—you didn’t kidnap, torture, or murder people to keep the light—but you were still selfish. Your people were still selfish. You kept a miracle that belonged to Valenora just because you could.”

“We did,” Dorcas agrees, her shoulders slumping. “We wrapped our greed in the guise of guardianship. We convinced ourselves that we were protecting the world from the Delamaryse tyrants, but in doing so, we deprived the true bearers of their legacy. I wanted Marlene to hold the light because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, and because I wanted Solistia to remain powerful. I let my own desires blind me to the balance of the magic.”

She reaches out, placing her hand over yours. “But the magic is smarter than all of us, Y/N,” she says, looking into your eyes. “It fought its way through all our greed, all the blood, and all these centuries. It bypassed my kingdom, it escaped the Delamaryse, and it came right back to you. A daughter of Valenora. The cycle finally corrected itself, despite everything we did to stop it.”

You let out a dry scoff, shaking your head as you abruptly yank your hands back from her grasp. 

A sudden, hot flash of anger flares up in your chest. “Just because you and your ancestors were selfish does not grant you the right to sit here and project your own regrets onto James! Just because your bloodline was greedy, and just because you let your guard down and made questionable choices, does not mean the man who has bled for me is a traitor. James is not you. He is not a thief, and he is not a traitor.”

Dorcas’s expression hardens behind her mask, her composure fracturing to show a flash of defensive heat. “I am not projecting, Y/N, I am trying to keep you alive!” Dorcas counters, her whisper sharp and hissed between her teeth as she leans in closer. 

“Do you think the people who betray kingdoms do it with a villainous sneer? They do it with a smile! They do it while holding your hand, while standing at your bedside, while keeping your secrets. I am telling you this because I thoughtMarlene was safe. I thought the people in my court loved her. And yet, someone still leaked her identity, and she was slaughtered for it. Love makes people blind, and right now, you are wearing a blindfold!”

“Don’t you dare lecture me about being blind!” you snap back, your chest heaving as you glare at her. “You don’t know anything about us. James has had a thousand opportunities to hand me over to our enemies, to sell the secret of my powers to the highest bidder, or to let me die. He chose to run with me instead. He chose to ruin his own life, his own career, just to keep me safe! To even imply that he is waiting to plunge a dagger into my back is insulting. It’s insulting to him, and it’s insulting to me.”

“And it is incredibly naive of you to think a protector is infallible!” Dorcas argues back. “Power like yours corrupts. It makes people do desperate things. What happens when your father offers him a choice? What happens when the pressure of being on the run finally breaks him? You are looking at him through the lens of a girl in love, but I am looking at the reality of a world that wants to tear you apart. I would rather you hate me for planting a seed of doubt than have to mourn you because you trusted the wrong person!”

You stare at her, your jaw clenched so tightly it aches. You want to scream at her, to defend James until your voice goes hoarse, but as you look into Dorcas’s eyes behind the mask, you see the panic of a woman who lost the person she loved most because she didn’t doubt enough.

You let out a long breath, looking away from her toward the marble floor. “He wouldn’t,” you whisper, though the fire is gone from your voice, replaced by a quiet, stubborn conviction. “I know him. I know his heart. James wouldn’t.”

Dorcas watches you for a long moment. The rigid tension in her shoulders slowly drains away, and she lets out a deflated sigh. “I hope you are right,” she says, her voice returning to its usual sorrowful tone. 

“For your sake, I truly hope you are. I didn’t tell you all of this to hurt you. I am not proud of my actions, nor am I proud of my family’s history. That is why I do not tell this story. But I am telling it to you because I am on your side. I am willing to have you lose every ounce of respect you had for me, to see me as a selfish queen, if it means you will finally understand the gravity of your situation and trust my warning.”

She reaches forward again, hesitantly placing her hand near yours on the velvet cushion, giving you the space to pull away if you want to. You don’t. 

“Please, just keep your eyes open,” she pleads quietly. “I have no idea who this traitor in Valenora is. It could be someone with intentions far worse than the Delamaryse bloodline ever had. But whoever they are, they are close to you, and they know what you are. So please… do not blindly trust anyone. Just… be careful.”

You look at her hand, then up at her face. You slowly nod. “Okay, I hear you. I’ll be careful.”

She lets out a sigh of relief and nods, slowly standing up and smoothing down the white fabric of her gown. “I will go excuse myself and let you have some space,” she says. “I know you do not think very fondly of me after everything I have just confessed. But… I would truly love it if you and James would say goodbye to me before you leave for Valenora.”

“I will,” you murmur.

With a final look of concern, she turns and glides back toward the crowded ballroom, her tall crown shimmering under the distant chandeliers until she is lost in the sea of masked guests.

You are left sitting entirely alone in the dim alcove, the muffled sounds of the orchestra fading into the background of your own racing thoughts.

It is no hidden secret now—Dorcas is selfish. She knows it herself. Even if she tries to justify her actions, even if she believes she ultimately did the right thing by giving your mother the Sun Drop flower when she originally wanted to keep it for Marlene, her hands are still stained with the greed of her ancestors.

But does that make her a bad person?

A selfish person isn’t necessarily a bad person, right? She said it herself—love makes people selfish. But, as you sit there, staring blankly at the ballroom, a cold splash of self-realization hits you.

Who are you to judge her?

What you are doing right now is entirely selfish too. You ran away from your duties. You left your family in a panic, abandoned your kingdom, and left your fiancé, Prince Caelum, waiting for a wedding you didn’t want—all just to escape on a cross-country trip to see some lanterns with your bodyguard. 

You are risking James’s life, his career, and his safety for your own desire to feel free for just a few weeks. If love and fear have made you this incredibly selfish, how can you possibly look down on Dorcas for doing the same?

“Everything alright?”

You flinch slightly as a shadow falls over you. You look up to see James standing there, holding two crystal flutes of sparkling drink. He sets them on the small table nearby and slides onto the velvet settee beside you, his shoulders instantly blocking out the rest of the noisy ballroom.

You quickly force a warm, reassuring smile onto your face, smoothing over the tension in your shoulders. “Yes. Everything is fine.”

James doesn’t look entirely convinced. He searches your face behind your mask, his eyes filled with that hyper-observant worry he has. “Did she tell you something else?” he asks, leaning in close so only you can hear him. “You look like you’re a million miles away.”

You shake your head, reaching for one of the glasses to give your hands something to do. “No. No, nothing like that. We were just talking about… everything. Just processing it all.”

James doesn’t look entirely convinced. His eyes narrow slightly behind theleather mask, analyzing the tight set of your jaw and the slight tremor in your fingers as you take the crystal flute. 

He replaces the alcohol with a glass of cool water from a passing tray, gently pressing it into your hands.

“Drink this,” he murmurs, as he slides closer on the velvet settee, his shoulder pressing reassuringly against yours. “.What did the Queen tell you?”

You open your mouth to respond, to find a lie or a half-truth that would put him at ease, but the words are instantly swallowed by a ringing blare of trumpets.

The brass notes echo across the vaulted ceilings of the ballroom, cutting cleanly through hundreds of conversations. Instantly, the grand orchestra slows its tempo to a complete halt. 

Silence falls over the sea of masked guests. The dancers part like a parting tide, turning their attention upward toward the grand marble mezzanine that overlooks the ballroom floor.

Two royal guards dressed in silver armor stand at attention on the balcony, their long trumpets lowered as Queen Dorcas steps forward to the carved stone railing.

Dorcas rests her hands on the cold stone, looking down at her people. She pauses for a long moment, letting the silence stretch until the entire room is completely silent. When she finally speaks, her voice is carried to every corner of the vast hall.

“People of Solistia,” Dorcas begins, her gaze sweeping slowly across the masked crowd. “Honored guests from lands near and far… welcome.”

A welcoming smile touching her lips as she lets her greeting settle over the room.

“Tonight, we gather once more to observe the annual Lantern Festival,” she continues, her hands gripping the railing. “Look around you. Look at the masks we wear, the diverse colors of our courts, the unique heritages gathered under this single roof. Solistia has always prided itself on being a kingdom of unity.”

A soft murmur of agreement ripples through the crown, but you keep your eyes fixed entirely on her. 

“But as we stand on the precipice of tonight’s release…” she pauses. “We must remember that this festival is not only a celebration of our prosperity.”

She looks across the room. “It is, at its deepest core, a sacred memorial. It is a time to honor all those we have lost. The heroes who bled to protect our borders… the ancestors who paved the paths we walk upon today…and the beloveds we carry in our hearts,” she whispers, her voice cracking just enough for those listening closely to catch it. “Whose absence leaves a permanent shadow in our lives.”

The kingdom does not know the name Marlene. The history books have erased her, the public is entirely blind to her existence, and the court believes the Queen’s lack of a husband is simply a sacrifice made for the crown. 

But you know the truth. Every word pouring from Dorcas’s lips is a coded confession. You know the real meaning of this day. You know exactly why she wears pure white every single year for the festival—because she is, in the eyes of her own broken heart, Marlene’s bride. 

This festival isn’t just a royal tradition; it is her mourning ritual. It is her way of celebrating a love that was torn away from her, a love she still refuses to let go of.

“We release the lanterns into the night sky to guide those spirits home. We send our love upward, into the dark, proving that death cannot sever the bonds we forge in life. Because, grief is the price we pay for love,” she says, her words echoing off the stone walls. “But it is a price we pay willingly. For as long as Solistia stands, we will remember them. We will celebrate the love they left behind… and we will keep their light burning in the dark.”

You look up at her, a bittersweet, complicated knot tightening in your chest. Deep down, it is so hard to reconcile the emotional, mourning woman standing on that balcony with the selfish queen who had just spoken to you minutes ago. 

This very woman was selfish. Her love for Marlene had made her selfish enough to try and hoard a miracle that belonged to your people, to keep a stolen miracle locked away in Solistia just to satisfy her own desires. She and her ancestors were just as greedy, just as flawed, as the tyrants they claimed to protect the world from.

Yet, you realize that Dorcas has no shame. She is entirely aware of her own selfishness, and she owns it completely because to her, a love that fierce was worth being selfish for.

“Exactly one hour remains until the release of the lanterns.” she announces. “Enjoy your evenings, drink, dance, and have fun. Before the hour strikes, our servants will distribute lanterns to all of our guests, so that we may lift our hearts to the sky together. Thank you.”

With a final nod, she steps back from the marble railing, her white gown swirling behind her as she disappears into the mezzanine.

The orchestra immediately strikes up a fresh, lively melody, and the crowd returns in a massive wave. 

You let out a long sigh, turning to James with a grin so wide your cheeks ache beneath your mask. “I can’t believe it’s actually happening,” you say, the excitement finally breaking through the heavy thoughts you’d been carrying. “An hour left. We’re actually here for it.”

James looks down at you, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a slow smile.“We’re here for the festival, yes. But we aren’t staying in this room.”

You frown, your hand still resting on his arm as the crowd begins to move around you. “What do you mean? The ball just started. Where else would we go?”

“Just come with me,” he says softly, his grip tightening on your hand as he subtly begins to guide you through the clusters of talking nobles.

“James, hold on,” you laugh, trying to keep your pace casual so you don’t attract attention while navigating the heavy silk skirt of your gown. “You’re acting so weird. What’s wrong with the gardens here?”

“The gardens are going to be packed with hundreds of people trying to make polite conversation while staring at the sky. You’ve been talking about seeing these lights since we were kids. I’m not letting your first time seeing them be from a crowded courtyard where we have to pretend to be Sterlings.”

A laugh escapes you, your heart doing a strange little flip at how well he remembers those details. “Alright, fair point. But how are we supposed to just leave? The guards are tracking everyone who enters and exits.”

“Let me worry about that,” he murmurs.

Within minutes, he guides you right up to the grand exit. When the towering oak doors open, the royal guards step into your path, checking the guest roster with sharp eyes. James doesn’t miss a beat. He adjusts his posture, his voice slipping into that smooth, authoritative aristocratic tone.

“Lord and Lady Sterling,” he says, presenting the gold-leafed cards. “Good evening.”

The guard scans the list, clears the names, and bows politely. “Have a pleasant evening, my lord, my lady.”

The doors shut behind you, instantly cutting off the music in the ballroom. But instead of heading toward the guest wing, James leads you down a turn into a series of dimly lit stone corridors. You recognize these as the servant passages.

“You’ve mapped out the entire castle, haven’t you?” you whisper.

“Naturally,” he replies dryly, pushing open a heavy wooden door at the very end of the hall.

The cool night air hits your face, a sudden, refreshing shock after the stifling heat of the ballroom. You step out onto a secluded stone courtyard backed by the dark woods of the palace edge. Your jaw drops slightly when you see what’s waiting in the open.

Maximus and Midnight are already saddled, their coats gleaming under the stars. Standing beside them is a young man dressed in simple Solistian traveler’s clothes.

You look between the horses and James, genuinely stunned. “How did you get them down here without anyone noticing? We’ve been inside all day.”

James walks over to Midnight, checking the girth of the saddle with practiced ease. “I had some help. Y/N, this is Gideon. I crossed paths with him near the stables yesterday while I was scouting the perimeter.”

The young man bows deeply, a respectful but warm smile on his face. “It’s an honor, Your Highness.”

You study his face, trying to place him, but he’s entirely unfamiliar. “Thank you, Gideon. But… how did James convince you to smuggle royal horses out of the palace stables?”

“He didn’t have to do much convincing once he told me who you were,” Gideon chuckles, rubbing Maximus’s nose. “My sister is Molly. She spoke very highly of you in her letters over the years.”

Your eyes widen. “Molly? Our head of servants? She retired two years ago to raise her family.” 

You look at Gideon with a newfound warmth. “I didn’t know she had family in Solistia.”

“Our family is originally from the border lines,” Gideon explains. “She moved to Valenora when she married, but the rest of us stayed. When Sir James mentioned your name, I knew I had to help. Molly always said you were the kindest soul in the palace.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely touched by the connection to home.

Gideon nods, turning back to James. You step closer to mount Maximus, but you can hear them murmuring to each other in low, hushed tones. You strain your ears, trying to catch what they’re saying, but you can only catch fractured words: “…boat is ready…” and “…the eastern road…”

Before you can process what they mean by boat and road, James turns around, offering you a steady hand, his eyes locking onto yours behind his mask. “Ready to actually see the lanterns?”

You swallow the sudden lump of curiosity in your throat, deciding to trust him. Gathering the fabric of your beige gown, you place your foot in the stirrup and swing yourself up onto Maximus’s saddle. James moves with efficiency, mounting Midnight in one smooth motion, his sharp charcoal suit cutting a striking figure against the dark horse.

“Keep close to me,” James says, looking over at you.

With a final nod of gratitude to Gideon, you both guide the horses out of the hidden courtyard and galloping away into the night.

The wind whips through your hair, carrying the crisp scent of the Solistian night as the horses maintain a rhythmic gallop away from the palace grounds. The silk of your gown bunches around the saddle, but you hardly care. You pull Maximusa little closer to Midnight’s flank, leaning forward slightly.

“Sooo,” you call out over the thundering sound of the hooves, looking over at his shadowed profile. “Where exactly are we heading? There isn’t much time left until the lanterns are released!”

James lets out a laugh, not even turning his head as he guides Midnight down a branching dirt path. “How are you this impatient? We’ve been out of the castle for barely ten minutes.”

You groan loudly, rolling your eyes behind your mask. “I was trapped inside a single palace for my entire life, James. I have earned the absolute right to be impatient. Now tell me!”

“I’m trying to surprise you,” he replies, a definitive smirk evident in his voice. “Stop asking so many questions and ruining it.”

A giddy, uncontrollable smile breaks across your face. You bite your lip to keep from laughing out loud, your chest warming at the realization that James—your strict, rule-following protector—had actually gone behind your back to plan something entirely for you.

James catches the shift in your energy, shifting his gaze over to you as the horses ease into a gentler trot. “There it is,” he comments. “You’re finally smiling. You looked like you were seeing ghosts after your little secret conversation with the Queen.”

You lift your chin, eager to deflect from the warning Dorcas had given you. “Oh, please. I thought you were far too busy playing Lord Sterling with the other nobles to notice me leaving the floor.”

“I always notice when you leave the floor,” James counters instantly, his tone teasing. He clicks his tongue to guide Midnight around a low-hanging branch. “Besides, you’re always running off to talk to people. First it’s little girls with flowers in the town square, then it’s the Queen in alcoves. I figured if you get to make secret alliances, I’m allowed to do the same with Gideon.”

You let out a chuckle, acknowledging the hit. “Fair, fair.”

The dirt path gradually gives way to a shifting terrain. The sound of rustling trees fades, replaced by the loud rushing of water. James slows Midnight to a complete walk, and you pull on Maximus’s reins, bringing your horse to a halt right beside his.

As you look around, the breath catches in your throat—but not for the reason you expected.

You have reached a very dark, isolated coast. The water of the massive Solistian lake washes up on the pebbled shore. The area is completely desolate, enveloped in thick shadows. There is no grand view. In fact, if you turn around, the shimmering lights of the palace ballroom are barely visible, obscured by the distance and the thick treeline. 

The only things occupying the empty shore are a small, weathered wooden hut and two simple rowboats tied securely with a coarse rope to a rotting wooden post.

It is, to say the least, entirely underwhelming.

You blink behind your mask, looking from the small, sad-looking boats back to James. You swallow the sudden wave of disappointment, reminding yourself not to judge his surprise just yet. He had worked so hard to coordinate this with Gideon.

“James…” you start, your voice trailing off as you look around the gloomy shore. “Is this… it? Where are we supposed to see the lanterns?”

James swings his leg over Midnight, dismounting with effortless grace. “Patience,” he says, a small, secretive smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He takes the reins and ties the mare to a nearby post before walking over to Maximus, offering you a hand to help you down.

“You brought me to an abandoned fishing hut in the middle of nowhere,” you tease, placing your hand in his as you step onto the damp gravel, carefully holding up the skirt of your gown to keep it from dragging in the mud. “Forgive me if I’m a little confused.”

“Trust me,” he murmurs, his fingers lingering against yours for a second before he lets go. “I know what I’m doing.”

Without another word, James turns and walks toward the small, weathered hut. He pushes the creaking wooden door open, disappearing into the darkness for a few seconds. When he steps back out into the open, he is carrying two large, unlit paper lanterns in his arms.

“Are those…?” you ask, stepping closer.

“Lanterns,” James confirms, setting them down carefully on the gravel. “Gideon helped me source them. Though he spent most of the time complaining about how difficult they were to sneak past the guards.”

A small laugh slips from your chest. “I can only imagine.”

Unceremoniously, James strips off his formal mask and tosses it onto the floor of the hut, quickly followed by his stiff suit blazer and tie. Rolling up his sleeves, he relaxes into just his white linen shirt and trousers.

Seeing him shed the suffocating attire, you immediately do the same, unlacing your mask, you kick off your heels, and set them near the edge of the hut, letting your bare feet press into the damp earth.

James looks over at you, letting out a laugh as he adjusts his unbuttoned collar. “Gods above… how do your brothers survive wearing those suits every single day? I feel like I just escaped a trap.”

You giggle. “You get used to it after a few years. Though I won’t pretend I’m sad to see the heels go.”

“I don’t know how you walked in them,” he mutters, reaching out to catch your hand. His grip is grounding as he guides you carefully onto the swaying wooden boat.

Once you’re safely seated, James pushes off the shore, climbing in and settling onto the rower’s bench. He takes hold of the heavy oars and begins to row through the mirror-like water.

You look down at the two unlit paper lanterns sitting at your feet, then back up at him, your brow furrowing in amusement. “You arranged all of this while I was sleeping?” you ask, your heart doing a strange, fluttering flip in your chest.

“Of course I did,” he says casually. “You think I’d let us come all this way just to stare at a castle from a dusty balcony?”

He keeps rowing, putting distance between the boat and the shore. After a few minutes, James pulls the oars out of the water, letting the boat glide to a smooth, silent halt in the middle of the lake.

“Turn around,” he murmurs quietly.

You turn in your seat—and the breath completely catches in your throat.

The view before you is stunning. From the middle of the water, the entire kingdom of Solistia sprawls out in a dazzling sea of gold. The massive castle looms high above, its stone arches and soaring spires illuminated by thousands of torches. The reflections ripple across the black surface of the lake, wrapping the boat in a glowing, ethereal halo.

It is so breathtaking, so utterly beautiful, that a prickle of tears immediately stings the backs of your eyes.

James watches you, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. “Hey, the lanterns haven’t even been released yet and you’re already tearing up—”

Before he can finish his sentence, you launch yourself out of your seat and throw your arms around his neck, hugging him with everything you have.

“Woah—hey!” James stammers, caught completely off guard. The boat lurches beneath your weight, sloshing a cold spray of lake water over the wooden edge and onto his boots. 

He instinctively wraps his arms around your waist, locking you tight against his chest as he uses his weight to stabilize the swaying boat. “Careful, love, or we’re both going to end up taking an midnight swim.”

“Thank you.” you whisper fiercely against his shoulder, ignoring the wet hem of your dress, ignoring the cold, ignoring everything except the beat of his heart beneath your cheek. 

“Thank you for doing this, James. You have no idea… you have no idea what this means to me.”

This was the moment you had spent years dreaming about. This was the sole reason you had stared out your bedroom window in Valenora as a child, longing to escape the palace. You had wanted to see the little suns—the floating lights that drifted across the skies of far-off kingdoms, washing up on distant shores days after the festivals ended. It felt entirely surreal that you were finally here, living the dream you had kept hidden in your heart for a decade.

And it was even better because you were doing it with James by your side. The man you were hopelessly, secretly in love with—even if he didn’t know it. Even if, to him, this was just one final act of kindness before you both returned to Valenora and you were forced to step into a life you never wanted.

Slowly, you pull back just enough to look up into his face, your hands on his shoulders. The glowing lights of the city catch in his dark eyes, turning them into pools of warm amber.

“James?” you ask, your voice barely louder than the lap of the water against the boat.

“Yeah?” he replies softly, his hands remaining on your waist.

“I’ve spent my entire life dreaming about this exact night,” you whisper. “I’ve wished for it, counted down the years, built whole worlds in my head around just seeing these lights…” 

You swallow past the lump forming in your throat, your eyes turning back to meet his. “What do you do when you finally reach the thing you’ve waited your whole life for? What comes next?”

James looks at you for a long moment. The gentle sway of the boat rocks you both as he reaches up, his thumb gently catching a stray tear on your cheek and brushing it away. 

“You find a new dream,” James answers quietly. 

“When tonight ends, it isn’t over,” he whispers, his voice low and grounding. “You find something new to wish for when you catch a shooting star across the sky. You make a new wish when you blow out the candles on your birthday, or when a stray lash falls onto your cheek. You find another horizon to chase… and you keep reaching for it. As long as you’re reaching for something, you’re never truly trapped.”

You stare at him, your heart aching with a love so fierce and overwhelming it frightens you. You tilt your head into the touch of his hand, feeling the familiar calluses on his palm against your skin.

“And what if I don’t know what to wish for next?” you ask, your voice cracking slightly. “What if I’m too afraid to pick something new?”

James lets out a breathy laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You underestimate yourself,” he says, his hand gently sliding down to rest against your jaw. “Whenever you get afraid, you do the bravest things imaginable.”

He watches the way your brow hitches in confusion. “Think about a month ago,” James continues. “When you were trapped in the castle, terrified of what your life was becoming… what did you do?”

You stare at him, the memories surfacing through the blur of tears. You remember the paralyzing fear of knowing a traitor was lurking nearby, the moment you were told that you had to choose a prince to marry, and the pain of being locked away from your own birthday parade. 

Every time things got worse, the cage only grew tighter around you. But instead of letting it break you, you refused to conform. What you did instead was… “I took a leap of faith,” you whisper, the words tasting like freedom on your tongue.

James smiles, a radiant pride breaking across his face. “You did,” he says softly, his thumb sweeping across your cheekbone. “So whenever you feel alone, scared, lost, or most of all trapped… remember that fortune favors the bold. And sometimes, all it takes is a very brave leap of faith.”

The comfort of his words doesn’t soothe the ache in your chest. If anything, it only makes it infinitely worse.

You look up at James, your eyes searching his face as a profound, agonizing sadness washes over you. Because the horrible truth is hanging in the air between you both, suffocating in its silence. 

Once this night ends, once this dream is officially achieved, you can no longer pretend. You can no longer hide behind the excuse of the journey or the escaping. You can’t pretend that there is much left tying him to you.

“And what if you aren’t there?” you whisper, your voice trembling so violently it barely carries across the water. “What if… what if you aren’t with me to find my new dream?”

Hot, heavy tears well up in your eyes, blurring the lights of the distant city. A wet, hiccuped laugh escapes your lips—a sound so broken and bitter it catches in your throat.

Because this moment isn’t just happy. It feels terribly, agonizingly like a farewell. It feels like saying goodbye to James. Your James.

Because he was yours, wasn’t he? He had you first. He was the one who taught you how to act through the fear, the one who held your face in the dark, the one who kissed you until your knees gave out, the one who made love to you while the rest of the world slept. 

You love him. You love him so much it feels like a physical tear in your chest, a sharp ache beneath your ribs. You want to scream it into the night sky until your lungs burn. You know he knows it—he’s known it in every glance, every touch, every desperate embrace—but saying the words out loud makes the impending loss real.

And the truth is a bitter, inescapable thing: having James is impossible.

It is like demanding the sun and the moon share the same sky, or expecting the high mountains to reach down and touch the deep sea. It is like wishing lumicrysts could grow everywhere, or believing that James could ever stand in the grand hall as a royal noble, a crown resting on his head.

None of those things can ever happen. The world does not bend for wishes, no matter how desperately they are made. James could never be a prince, and you could never be just a girl who loves him. He might belong to your heart, but he will never be allowed to stay by your side.

James sees it all in your eyes. He watches the conflict and the unbearable pain across your features, reading every agonizing thought as clearly as if you’d spoken it aloud.

He gently pressing his forehead against yours, bridging the tiny space between you until his breath warm against your skin becomes your only anchor. His hand reaches up, the pad of his thumb gently wiping away a tear that slips down your cheek, his touch tender and steady against yours.

“Even if I’m not there with you…” he murmurs at last.

You both know what those words mean. He won’t be there when you put on the grand wedding gown. He won’t be standing at the end of the aisle. He won’t be the prince placing a ring on your finger. He can’t be.

“…then I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” James continues. “You are so, so smart. So brave. You’re so full of life and warmth, Y/N. It’s impossible not to love you, and it’s impossible not to find beauty in all your miastakes. I’m sure you’ll find a new dream. Just like you had one when I wasn’t there… back when you sat by your window and dreamt of these lights.”

“But it’s different, James!” You shake your head frantically, the tears spilling freely now. “You know it’s different! It’s not the same! We—we spent so much time together. We traveled across kingdoms, we slept in the same bed, we kissed, we had sex, we… I can’t just—I can’t just not—”

You break down completely, a choked sob tearing from your chest. You’re crying openly now, raw and undone, suffocating under the weight of loving someone you are forbidden to keep.

James, as he always is, is three steps ahead of you. He sees the spiral, sees the panic and the utter heartbreak wrecking your frame.

“Then don’t do it,” he cuts in softly.

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat as you stare at him through a haze of tears. Don’t do what? Don’t marry him? Don’t go back to Valenora?

Before the question can leave your lips, a sudden, warm golden glow blooms in the dark far behind you.

James turns his head, his dark eyes catching the light, and a soft, breathtaking smile touches his lips. “It’s time.”

You turn around slowly in the wooden boat, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

[i highly recommend playing the song space song by beach house here for a better experience]

There, in the far, far distance, standing on the highest central balcony of the grand palace, Queen Dorcas holds a single, massive lantern, as she lets it go.

The first lantern rises into the night sky—a burning miniature sun hovering over Solistia. It carries everything it was made for: Marlene, their tragic, selfish love, a lifetime of grief, and a surrender to the light.

And then, as if the entire realm had been holding its breath waiting for her command, hundreds upon hundreds of golden lights burst into existence across the entire kingdom.

They pour out from every balcony, every cobblestone street, every village square, and every tiny boat along the shores. Thousands of glowing lanterns lift off into the black abyss, floating toward the stars like a sea of rising embers, bathing the lake, the castle, and James’s face in a breathtaking, golden glow.

Slowly, almost impossibly, the entire world around you transforms into one made entirely of golden suns.

The dark sky is no longer dark. Hundreds upon hundreds of glowing lanterns rise higher into the night, drifting over the mirror-like surface of the water until the space around your little wooden boat is bathed in a warm, breathtaking, ethereal light. It casts away every shadow, every quiet dread, and every lingering fear. It is, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing you have ever witnessed. It was worth every tear, every mile traveled, every agonizing secret, and every ounce of fear you had carried since the age of twelve. It was worth everything.

Driven by pure, unfiltered wonder, you carefully push yourself up, standing on the very edge of the wooden boat. The vessel lurches and sways beneath your bare feet, sending tiny ripples across the glowing water.

Before you can lose your balance, James’s hands instinctively wrap around your waist, his grip firm, warm, and rock-steady as he holds you close to keep you both from falling in. 

You lean into his solid frame, reaching out a trembling hand toward a lantern drifting lazily right beside the hull.

Your fingers softly touch the warm paper face of the floating light. Your breath hitches in absolute awe as you watch the flame inside flicker, illuminating the faint grain of the parchment.

When you turn around to look at James, your heart skips a beat. He isn’t looking at the thousands of lights washing over the kingdom. He is looking only at you, a soft, unbelievably tender smile pulling at his lips.

In his hands, he holds the two large paper lanterns he had brought from the hut, both now lit from within by a small lighter he had somehow managed to procure. The golden glow spills through the paper, illuminating his sharp jawline and turning his golden-brown eyes into pools of liquid sunlight.

“Ready?” he asks.

You nod, a genuine, radiant smile breaking across your face as you sink back down onto the bench beside him. “I am.”

You take one of the lanterns into your hands, feeling the gentle heat radiating through the thin paper. But before you can lift it into the air, James looks at you, his gaze intense and impossibly soft.

“Make a wish,” he says quietly.

A small, tearful laugh escapes your lips at the childish tradition. You close your eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath of the cool night air, sending a silent prayer up into the vast expanse above, hoping that whatever higher divinity of Fate would listen to your simple wish.

I wish I could be with James. I wish I could stay with him, and be free.

Beside you, James closes his eyes, too. Unbeknownst to you, his chest heaves with a prayer so tragically similar that it physically hurts him to breathe it into existence.

I wish she didn’t have to marry Prince Caelum. I wish she would be mine to keep.

You both open your eyes at the exact same moment.

“What did you wish for?” James asks, a playful tilt to his head, though his eyes remain deeply sad.

You laugh, shaking your head as you hold your lantern higher. “It’s a secret. If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

James lets out a huff of laughter, his shoulders relaxing. “Fine. Keep your secrets.”

Holding your lanterns, you lean in close to one another, your shoulders pressing together, the warmth of your bodies mingling with the heat of the fire. On three, you both lift your hands, letting the glowing parchment slip gently from your fingertips into the night air.

The two lanterns hover together for a brief second, lighting up the dark sky just a little bit more. As the gentle lake breeze catches them, they swirl gracefully around each other—a delicate dance in the dark—before slowly ascending, blending seamlessly into the vast sea of thousands of drifting suns above Solistia.

You watch them go, a wide, luminous smile gracing your lips. But when you turn back to look at James, you catch him already staring at you. He hadn’t looked at the sky once.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” James says quietly.

His voice has dropped an octave, carrying a sudden gravity that makes the air between you grow still. You look at him, your heart pounding against your ribs like a trapped bird. “What is it, James?” you ask.

He goes entirely quiet.

Around the boat, the hundreds of little floating suns reflect off the dark surface of the lake, casting a golden aura over James’s face. The flickering light catches the edges of his cheekbones, the curve of his neck, the mess of his hair, and the dark amber of his eyes. 

Surrounded by a sea of rising stars, James looks like the sun itself.

He takes a shaky breath, reaching out with a hand that trembles just a fraction. His calloused fingers trace the line of your jaw, cupping your cheek with a gentleness that steals the breath right out of your lungs.

“I love you.” James whispers, the confession tearing out of his throat, completely raw and naked, devoid of any other phrases. Just three words.

The words hang in the air between you, more brilliant and blinding than every lantern floating in the sky above.

“I have loved you since the moment I realized I would burn down the whole world just to keep you safe,” he continues, his voice thick with an emotion he can no longer contain, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “I loved you when we were kids, I loved you in Valenora as your guard, I loved you when we were running, and I love you now. I know I shouldn’t say it. I know I’m just a guard, and I know what waits for us back home… but gods help me, Y/N, I am completely, hopelessly in love with you.”

Tears rise in your eyes, but this time, they aren’t filled with sorrow. They are filled with an overwhelming, breathless joy. “I love you, too,” you breathe out, your voice breaking on the words. “James… I love you so much.”

Before he can even process the sound of your voice giving him everything he had ever wished for, you lean forward, bridging the tiny distance between you, and press your lips to his.

It’s a deep, agonizingly beautiful kiss—one born from months of forbidden I love you’s. James lets out a low groan against your mouth, his arms instantly pulling you tight against his chest, lifting you slightly off the bench so there is no space left between you.

His lips move against yours with desperate devotion, tasting the salt of your tears and the sweetness of your breath. He kisses you like a dying man taking his first breath of clean air, his fingers tangling into the back of your hair, holding you as if you were the only solid thing in an unraveling universe.

James breaks the kiss slowly, his forehead lingering against yours as his breath hitches. A soft, breathless laugh bubbles up from his chest—a sound so full of light, relief, and dizzying hope that it almost sounds foreign coming from him.

“Then let’s not go back,” he whispers, his hands cupping your cheeks, his golden eyes shining with a sudden, wild desperation. “Let’s stay here.”

You blink, pulling back just enough to look at him, your brows furrowing in sheer bewilderment. “What?”

“I love you. And I know you love me too,” James says, the words tumbling out of him in a fast, breathless rush, his fingers tightening against your jaw. “If we go back home, Y/N, it will never work out. You know it won’t. I’m just your royal guard, and you’re a crown princess. The moment we step back into Valenora, they will force that ring onto your finger and lock you away in a palace. But here? Right now? We can just be James and Margaret. We can be free. We can be safe from all our duties and all the expectations.”

A cold spike of dread pierces through your chest. You shake your head, taking a step back on the wooden floorboards of the boat.

“James… we can’t do that,” you say, your voice rising in utter confusion and mounting panic. “If we do that, we can never go back. At some point, my parents will realize something is wrong. When you stop sending your weekly update letters and when we don’t return… they will send out a full royal search party for us. We’ll be hunted!”

“We will make it work,” James insists, shaking his head as he steps closer, reaching out to wrap his hands around your face once more, desperate to keep your focus entirely on him. “Listen to me. We can go far away. A different continent. Somewhere across the sea where Valenora holds no power. We could change kingdoms, move between tiny coastal villages every few months so we can never be traced. That way… that way we can see the world together. Just like you’ve always dreamed.”

Tears brim in your eyes once more, but this time, they burn with horror. You shake your head, pushing lightly against his chest.

“James, if we do that, we can never see our families again!” your voice breaks, a sob tearing through your throat as you gesture wildly between the two of you. “I won’t ever see my brothers again! I’ll never see my mother, or my father, or Lily, or—” 

You stop, your eyes wide with disbelief as you look at him. “What about you? You won’t see your mother or your father! You’ll lose Sirius, Remus, Peter… fuck, James, all of your friends! You’d lose your whole life!”

James’s face hardens, his jaw locking tight as a dark, uncompromising resolve takes over his features.

“I’d do it for you,” he says, his voice dropping into a fierce, unwavering whisper. “I’d sacrifice all of it for you. Just to be with you.”

“You can’t ask me that!” you cry out, the tears finally spilling over your lashes in hot, frantic streams. “I love you! I love you so much it hurts, but I cannot abandon my kingdom! I can’t abandon my people, my duty, or my family, and know that I will never, ever see them again for as long as I live! James, please… take me back. Get me off this boat. Please.”

The raw, hysterical panic in your voice seems to hit him like a slap. The desperate light in James’s eyes instantly flickers out, replaced by a sudden, eerie calm. 

Seeing you on the verge of a complete breakdown, his guard instincts immediately override his own desires. “Hey… okay. Okay,” James murmurs, stepping back and raising his hands. “We’ll go back. I’ll get us off the boat, and we’ll talk about it in the room. Just breathe, Y/N.”

You nod frantically, wiping your face with the back of your trembling hand. As James turns back around, sitting on the rower’s bench and silently gripping the wooden oars, you can tell—with painful, devastating clarity—that he is deeply bothered. He is offended. Hurt that you didn’t instantly jump into his arms and accept his offer.

If you could even call it an offer.

How could he be so hopelessly blind? How could a man so trained in strategy fail to see the sheer catastrophic ruin his plan would bring?

Deserting a royal post and running off with you wasn’t just a breach of contract—it was high treason. If you two were ever caught, James wouldn’t just be relieved of his duties; he would be executed on the spot as a traitor and a kidnapper. 

And his parents… gods, his poor parents. James had spoken so casually of sacrificing them, but he hadn’t considered the horrific aftermath. The moment your father realized what James had done, the wrath of the throne would fall directly on his family. Fleamont and Euphemia would be stripped of their titles, their land, and their honor, spending the rest of their days in utter disgrace or locked in a dungeon for their son’s ultimate betrayal.

And what kind of life would you two even have together? Moving from village to village sounded romantic in a foolish storybook, but the cold reality would be an exhausting, paranoid nightmare. 

You would live as nameless fugitives, constantly looking over your shoulders, terrified of every soldier in uniform, every foreign bounty hunter, and every familiar face.

Beyond that, you weren’t just a girl—you were an heir tied to an ancient sun magic that an entire continent was actively trying to understand and control. Leaving meant leaving Valenora completely defenseless, abandoning your people to possible enemies, and leaving your family to drown in the grief of your sudden, unexplained disappearance.

Worst of all, a love built on absolute ruin was a ticking time bomb. How long would it take before the fairy tale shattered? How long until James looked at you in some dingy, damp inn across the sea and secretly resented you for losing Sirius, his parents, his brothers-in-arms, and his home? 

How long until you looked at him and felt the bitter poison of regret for abandoning your brothers?

James rows in absolute silence, the splash of the water the only sound cutting through the night. The golden lanterns still drift beautifully in the sky above, but to you, they no longer look like suns.

They just look like dying stars, slowly drifting away into the cold, unforgiving dark.

a/n: welcome to the long rant, folks!!

compared to the absolute essay i wrote for the last chapter, i think i'm actually going to keep this one a little shorter... or at least i'll try to 😭

first, i really wanted to talk about dorcas and her conversation with princess because i think it's one of the most important moments in the chapter, even if it's much quieter than everything that comes afterward. something that has always been incredibly important to me while writing tcov is allowing good people to make bad decisions. i never wanted the older generation to fall into neat categories of heroes and villains because i don't think life is ever that simple.

with dorcas, we finally see someone who possesses enough self-awareness to acknowledge that she wasn't always the person history remembers her as. she loved deeply, but that love also made her selfish. being queen gave her the power to make impossible choices, and being in love made those choices even harder. she knows that and she doesn't try to rewrite history or excuse herself. instead, she openly admits that if events had unfolded differently, she very well might have made the wrong decision. and i think that's what makes marlene's sacrifice even more heartbreaking.

ultimately, dorcas didn't make the right choice herself. the right choice was made for her, marlene took that burden from her.

yes, history remembers the outcome as noble, but that doesn't erase the fact that dorcas was prepared to choose differently. i really wanted princess to hear that because she's spent so much of her life believing queens and kings are somehow above ordinary human weakness. dorcas shatters that illusion completely. she reminds her that crowns don't magically make people wiser or kinder. they're still capable of fear, grief, selfishness, and mistakes. and honestly... i think there's something strangely beautiful about that.

i have always been drawn to characters who are not only aware of their flaws, but who are forced to coexist with them in perpetuity. dorcas is not a figure of absolution; she is a figure of endurance. she carries the weight of decisions she cannot undo and cannot fully forgive herself for, and that ongoing internal reckoning is precisely what makes her one of my favourite characters to write in the entire series.

and in that sense, the parallel between dorcas and princess’s parents—Helena and edmund—becomes impossible to ignore. because what dorcas articulated in the past is, in many ways, the same emotional architecture that defines helena and edmund in the present.

Helena, like dorcas, was not untouched by love; her choices were never made in a vacuum of clarity, but in the pressure of devotion colliding with duty in order to try and protect her daughter. edmund, similarly, was never a figure of uncomplicated authority. his decisions were not born from detachment, but from the same entanglement of fear, responsibility, and emotional compromise for his daughter that dorcas recognises within herself.

what connects all three of them is not moral failure, but the shared experience of loving someone so intensely that it distorts the boundaries of what one believes oneself capable of choosing.

and princess, standing at the intersection of these narratives, is finally forced to confront the fact that her parents were never exceptions to human fragility. they were simply people navigating impossible emotional terrain, just as dorcas did, just as she herself is beginning to.

NOW... THE LANTERNS. OH MY GOD FINALLY.

i think every single one of us knew this scene was coming eventually because... come on... tangled-inspired story. there was absolutely no universe where i wasn't going to include the lanterns LOL

but i wanted it to be more than just a reference. for princess, this isn't simply a beautiful tradition she's always wanted to see. it's something she's dreamed about her entire life while trapped behind palace walls. every single year she watched those lanterns drift into the sky from a distance, never believing she'd actually stand beneath them one day. so finally writing that moment felt incredibly emotional for me because it's one of the first dreams she ever had, long before james, long before running away, and long before discovering who she truly is.

and then...THE CONFESSION.

LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING MEEEEEEEE. james potter confessing his love beneath thousands of floating lanterns might actually be one of the most romantic things i have ever written.

after everything they've been through, after months of denying it, dancing around it, making excuses, and pretending their feelings were something they could simply ignore, hearing those words spoken out loud felt so unbelievably satisfying to write.

and i think what i love even more is the wishes. because despite everything they've been through, their wishes are almost identical. which (btw) absolutely destroyed me while writing it 😭

i also really wanted to take a moment to talk about the argument itself, because i have a feeling this scene is going to divide people, and honestly, i hope it does. if it doesn’t, then i don’t think i’ve done my job properly, because this is one of those moments where both characters are right in their own way, and that’s exactly what makes it hurt.

from james’s perspective, what he’s offering princess is the most romantic thing he could possibly imagine. for months, he’s watched the woman he loves live with choices she never chose, bound to a crown that was placed on her head long before she ever had a say in it. he’s seen her exhausted by duty, torn apart by expectation, and grieving a future that was decided for her before she even had the chance to dream of her own.

so when James talks about running away, he isn’t thinking in terms of betrayal or abandonment. to him, it is freedom. it is the chance to take everything that has been suffocating her and simply leave it behind. in his mind, he is offering her the life she has always been denied: the ability to choose for herself, to exist outside of a title, to wake up every morning not as princess and royal guard, but simply as james and margaret, two people who love each other.

to james, love is not something that can be measured against consequence. it is something that justifies consequence.

he would give up his career, his reputation, his home, and every piece of identity he has ever built if it meant he could be with princess. there is no hesitation in that for him, and i genuinely believe that about him. that is what makes his confession so devastating, because he is not manipulating her or exaggerating what he would do. he is being entirely honest. he really would sacrifice everything.

but love has never looked the same to princess.

throughout the entire story, james has been the one who believes love should be protected at all costs, even if that means burning everything else down around it.

princess, on the other hand, has been raised in a completely different understanding of love. for her, love has always been tied to responsibility. it is not just something you feel, it is something you carry, and sometimes something you endure for the sake of other people. she has spent her entire life being taught that her choices are never just her own, that every decision she makes ripples outward into her family, her kingdom, and the thousands of people who depend on the crown she is destined to inherit.

so when james asks her to leave with him, she does not hear it as a simple romantic escape. she hears it as a collapse of everything she has been trained to protect. she hears it as abandonment, not just of a place, but of people. and that is where the tragedy of this scene really is, because they are not actually arguing about the same thing at all. they are speaking past each other, each in a completely different understanding of what love is supposed to cost.

james is speaking from hope. he is imagining a future that begins the moment they choose each other. princess is speaking from consequence. she is imagining everything that future would erase in order to exist. he sees a beginning. she sees an ending disguised as one.

one of my favourite parts to write was what happens inside princess’s head after the conversation ends, because that is where the illusion finally breaks. for a moment, running away does sound beautiful. it is easy to picture it in romantic fragments: small villages they have never been to, unfamiliar streets, long journeys with no destination except each other, sunsets over open water, a life stripped down to something simple and free. in theory, it almost feels like the ending of a fairy tale.

but reality always arrives eventually, because the moment they disappear, james is no longer just a man who left his post. he becomes a traitor to the crown. his name is no longer associated with loyalty or service, but with betrayal. and the consequences do not stop with him. his parents do not simply lose a son who chose love over duty; they lose their standing, their security, and possibly even their safety. everything they have built their lives around would begin to unravel because of a choice that was never really theirs to make.

and princess does not escape consequence either. she does not simply lose a future she was already uncertain about. she loses her family in a different way entirely. her brothers would spend the rest of their lives believing she vanished without explanation. her parents would be left with nothing but uncertainty, never knowing whether she was alive, safe, or gone forever. an entire kingdom would be left without its future queen, and the absence would not be romantic. it would be destabilising.

that is probably the most heartbreaking truth of this entire scene, because james is not wrong for wanting that life with her, and princess is not wrong for refusing it.

they are simply two people in love under circumstances that make every possible version of love come with a cost.

i have always said that tcov is not a story about two people struggling to fall in love. it is a story about two people who fall in love far too easily, and then have to decide whether love, on its own, is ever enough to justify what it demands of them.

sometimes it is, sometimes it is not. and that is the question this chapter finally forces them, and the reader, to sit with.

the final image of the chapter is probably my favourite piece of symbolism i have written so far. at the beginning of the scene, the lanterns represent hope, freedom, and possibility, something almost full of promise. by the end, they are still there, still rising into the sky exactly as they were before, except they look like dying suns.

and that is often what heartbreak really is. not the destruction of beauty, but the inability to experience it in the same way once you understand what it would cost to keep it.

anyways, that's all from me for this chapter!!

as always, thank you all so much for reading, for screaming in the comments, for sending me your theories, and for spiralling alongside me every single update. i genuinely look forward to reading your comments and asks more than you know.

until next time, stay safe, stay happy, stay hydrated, stay healthy, and i'll see you all in the next chapter.

love you all endlessly <333

-

Truthfully, after the conversation in the temple with Queen Dorcas—uncovering the bloodline, the tragedy of Marlene, and the truth of your own magic—you were so mentally exhausted that James didn’t have the heart to ask you to do anything but rest.

Because of that, he feels like a spoiled king right now. The Queen has been nothing but aggressively generous, putting you both up in the largest, most lavish chamber in the royal wing. Servants slip in and out in golden-threaded uniforms, bringing towers of fresh exotic fruits, decadent pastries, and roasted meats. The room boasts a private marble bathtub deep enough to swim in, and a grand balcony that offers a breathtaking, panoramic view of the entire kingdom below.

James looks up from the mattress, his eyes softening as he watches you standing by the arched window, completely lost in thought. “Hey,” he calls out softly, his voice low. “You okay over there?”

You turn around, a soft smile breaking through your daze as you nod. Leaving the window view behind, you walk over and crawl onto the edge of the mattress, sitting cross-legged next to him. “I’m okay. Honestly, I slept so well last night. I feel entirely spoiled.”

James lets out a rich laugh, propping his head up on one hand. “Oh, absolutely. This is a massive upgrade from those bedbug-ridden taverns in Astarvel.”

You laugh, the tension finally leaving your shoulders as you fall backward onto the mountain of pillows beside him.

James turns his head, his gaze sweeping over you as you curl into the sheets. You are wearing nothing but a short, silk nightgown provided by the palace maids—a garment that leaves far too much skin exposed and makes James’s breath hitch. Queen Dorcas has been teasing you both in her own subtle way by giving you a private chamber with only one bed and a single, intimate tub.

Worse yet, James snooped through the bedside drawers last night and found a neatly arranged box of protection—lambskin condoms. You, having lived a sheltered royal life, remain completely unaware of what they are even used for. 

James, however, knew exactly what they were for. You still don’t understand why his face flushed a violent, bright crimson before he slammed the drawer shut last night, refusing to look you in the eye for a solid twenty minutes.

But despite the embarrassment, you haven’t exactly kept your hands to yourselves. James’s thoughts drift back to last night, and a sudden wave of heat rushes to his cheeks. He had spent hours tangled together with you in these very sheets, making out non-stop until your lips were bruised and breathless. 

Ever since James first kissed you back at the Snuggly Duckling, a dam has broken between you. He is entirely addicted to you, and he simply cannot stop touching, kissing, or seeking your skin whenever you are behind closed doors.

You shift closer to him now, sliding your hand across the silk until your fingers brush against his bare forearm.

“James?” you murmur, turning your head to look at him.

“Yeah?” he replies, his gaze dropping instantly to your lips, his fingers already twitching with the urge to pull you closer.

“I’ve been thinking,” you say softly, scooting even closer until the warmth radiating from his chest envelops you. You look around the sunlit, golden room, then back into his eyes. “This… all of this. It feels like a dream.”

He lets out a soft, breathy chuckle, his eyes darkening as they trace the curve of your jaw. “Yeah, it sure does… I don’t ever want to wake up from it,” he sighs, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly vibration that rolls right through you.

“Well, then don’t,” you tease.

Before he can even process the words, you shift. You push yourself up from the pillows, moving with a sudden, fluid confidence that catches him completely off guard. You plant your hands firmly on his broad shoulders and press down, effortlessly forcing him flat against the mattress.

James lets out a sharp, startled gasp as you slide forward, straddling his lap and settling yourself directly over his hips.

Fuck.

The word slams into his brain like a physical blow. Every single muscle in his body goes completely rigid, his breath hitching hard in his throat. Through the thin, dangerously soft silk of your nightgown, he can feel every ounce of your warmth resting right against his crotch, and it takes every shred of his self-control not to lose his mind then and there. 

His hands fly up, hovering in the air for a frantic second as if he’s terrified to touch you, before his fingers finally lock onto your waist, anchoring you to him.

You look down at him, a beautifully wicked, teasing smile playing on your lips. You like this power over him. You like knowing exactly how much you affect him.

Slowly, you lean down, letting the tips of your hair brush against his cheeks as you press a soft, agonizingly slow kiss to his lips. It’s barely a whisper of contact, just a tantalizing taste that leaves him starved for more. When you pull back just a fraction, James lets out a low, desperate groan, his hips twitching upward instinctively, seeking the pressure of your body.

“You’re torturing me,” he growls against your skin, his grip tightening on your waist.

“Am I?” you whisper playfully.

You lean in again, but this time, you don’t give him a choice. You press your mouth fully to his, parting your lips and dragging him down into a deep, bruising kiss.

Any lingering restraint James had completely evaporates. He turns to absolute mush beneath your hands, his mind turning to pure, static chaos as he melts into the mattress. His hands slide up from your waist, his large palms dragging possessively over the exposed skin of your thighs, pulling you down tighter against his groin as his tongue tangles with yours. 

The kiss turns hungry, urgent, and fiercely addicted, a breathless rhythm born from all those hours spent tangled together the night before.

You tease him, intentionally pulling away to trail a line of wet, biting kisses down the sensitive skin of his jawline, laughing against his throat when you feel his pulse hammering wildly like a trapped bird.

His fingers tangle into the silk of your night gown, bunching the fabric up as he desperately tries to pull you closer, his whole body trembling under the exquisite torture of your touch. “Don’t stop.”

James reaches up, his large hands cupping the back of your neck as he tries to pull you back down for another deep, intoxicating kiss. But you plant your palms firmly against his chest, holding your ground and gently pushing him back into the pillows.

Instantly, James freezes. The haze of desire in his amber eyes snaps into sharp, anxious clarity, his brow furrowing as a look of intense worry floods his face. He immediately thins his lips, terrified that he has somehow overstepped.

You shift slightly on his lap, suddenly looking down as a nervous, shy energy replaces your playful confidence. “So… um. There’s something we need to talk about.”

James pushes himself up on his elbows, panic flaring in his chest. “Shit, did I do something? Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I—”

“No, no, no!” you cut him off quickly, waving your hands. “It’s not that at all. It’s just… I’ve been thinking. Since last night, and this morning, and well… uhm. I need you to do something for me.”

James relaxes only a fraction, his heart still hammering against his ribs, but the worry remains etched deep into his features. “Yeah, anything. You know I’d do anything for you. What is it?”

You stare at him, your cheeks flushing a brilliant, hot crimson as you suddenly find the pattern on his shirt fascinating. The silence stretches, making him grow more restless. He reaches out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear to urge you on.

“Hey, is everything okay? You’re making me nervous,” he asks softly.

“Yes! Yes, everything is fine,” you reassure him quickly, taking a shaky breath. “It’s just… I’ve been thinking. You know how once we go back home… the arrangements for the wedding between me and Prince Caelum will just continue on right where they left off, right?”

And yeah. There it is.

The suffocating truth crashes right through the beautiful dream you both were building. James feels a cold weight sink directly into his stomach. He knew this was all too good to be true, but a selfish part of him had hoped he could just live in this fantasy for a little longer. He swallows the hard lump forming in his throat, bracing himself for the impact. 

He prepares himself to hear the words he dreads most—that this, whatever beautiful, addictive thing is happening between you, needs to end before you go back to reality.

Except, you don’t stop there.

“And basically, uh, you know that I don’t love Caelum,” you continue, your voice growing smaller, laced with a vulnerable shyness. “I’ve only met him like twice. And… I’m not stupid. I know what happens between a wedded couple on their wedding night.”

You look away, your fingers anxiously bunching up the silk of your nightgown.

James’s chest aches. He thinks he already knows exactly where this is going. His mind fills in the blanks, assuming you want to draw the line here—that you want to stop making out, stop touching, to make sure you remain perfectly pure for the prince on your wedding night. 

He prepares to nod, to tell you he understands, to hide his breaking heart behind a supportive smile.

Except what you say next leaves him completely, utterly paralyzed.

“So… I was thinking, basically um… I want you to take my virginity.”

James’s jaw goes completely slack. He stares up at you, his eyes wide, his brain completely short-circuiting as the words echo in the dead silence of the room.

“What?!”

The word flies out of James’s mouth, a breathless, strangled sound. He stares at you as if you’ve just spoken in an entirely ancient, forgotten language.

You panic a little at his reaction, the blush on your cheeks burning even hotter as the words tumble out of you in a frantic, defensive rush. “Look! You don’t have to! I mean, I know it’s a massive ask, and we only had our very first kiss two days ago at the tavern, and we’ve only really ever made out and never done anything else! It’s just… I wanted it to be you. Because I trust you. And I don’t want my first time to be with someone I don’t love, like Caelum.”

James’s brain is running a thousand miles an hour, trying to slow down the sheer momentum of what you are saying. He isn’t stupid. He knows you aren’t in love with Prince Caelum—hell, you’ve barely met the guy twice. But his mind is still reeling from the sheer impact of your proposition. You want him. You want this. With him.

He reaches up, his hands gently catching your forearms to halt your frantic rambling. “Hey, hey, slow down for a second,” he breathes, his voice laced with absolute shock. “I’m just… I’m completely stunned. I mean, I never, in my wildest dreams, thought you would want me to—”

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine! Just forget it!” you cut him off defensively, mortification hitting you like a wave.

Before he can speak, you scrambled off his lap, untangling your legs from his and slipping off the massive bed, your bare feet hitting the cold floor as you try to flee the suffocating embarrassment.

But James moves like lightning. His hand shoots out, his fingers wrapping firmly but gently around your wrist. With a sudden, authoritative tug, he pulls you right back toward the mattress. “Hey, hey, hey—hold on. Stop running.”

He shifts, swinging his legs over the side of the bed so he is sitting firmly on the edge. He pulls you all the way in until you are standing directly between his parted thighs, trapped by his frame. He doesn’t let go of you. Instead, he reaches up, sliding his large hands into yours, forcing your fingers to interlock with his as he looks up into your face.

“I’m not saying no, okay?” he says softly, his amber eyes searching yours.

Your lower lip quivers slightly, a sad, rejected pout forming on your face as you look down at the floor.

James lets out a low, breathy chuckle, squeezing your hands. “Nope. No pouting. Look at me, love. Listen to me.” 

He waits until your eyes meet his, his expression turning incredibly serious, filled with a raw, intense vulnerability. “Look, this is a massive ask. And it’s not that I don’t want to. God, fuck, you have no idea how much I want to. You have no idea how badly I want to hold you, to touch you, to just have you all to myself in every possible way.” 

His grip tightens slightly, his voice dropping into a rough, strained register. “But if we do this… there is no going back. And I cannot have you ever regretting doing this with me. If you woke up the next morning feeling guilty, or wishing you hadn’t… I couldn’t handle it, okay? It would break me.”

You look down at him, the heavy sincerity in his voice wrapping around your heart. You nod sadly, understanding the weight of what he’s protecting.

“So,” James continues, his thumb soothingly tracing the back of your hand. “How about you think about it? Truly think about it. And if we get through the day, or tomorrow, and you still want it… then you have all of me. Whenever you want. I just want you to be absolutely, perfectly sure, because I never want a single ounce of regret tied to me.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, the warmth of his words melting away the last of your embarrassment. You nod again, more firmly this time. “Okay.”

A soft, relieved smile breaks across James’s face. He tugs on your hands, effortlessly pulling you forward until you collapse right back into his lap, his arms wrapping securely around your waist. “Now come on, don’t be sad,” he murmurs affectionately.

He leans up, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to your lips that tastes like a sweet promise. When he pulls back, you look at him through your eyelashes, a small, shy smile finally returning.

“Fine,” you agree softly, tracing the collar of his shirt. “So… if I am still of the exact same opinion later, we can just… you know?”

James bursts into a rich laugh, the tension fully leaving his shoulders. “Yeah, love. We can. I’m right here, so you can just have me whenever you’re ready.”

You laugh, leaning down to kiss him again. Your lips part against his, dragging him into another deep, lazy kiss that leaves him completely breathless.

And oh, fuck. James is so incredibly doomed.

As his hands slide down your back, feeling the soft silk of your nightgown, a silent war wages inside his chest. A desperate, selfish part of him hopes you won’t change your mind—because there is absolutely nothing in this world he wants more than to belong to you entirely. 

But another, more realistic part of him secretly hopes you do change your mind. James knows, deep in his bones, that he is completely, irrevocably in love with you. And actually sleeping with you? Having you in the most intimate way possible when he knows you are still destined to marry another man? It isn’t going to help him move on. It’s only going to bury him deeper.

But you know what? He decides he can handle a little bit of heartbreak if it means giving in.

With a sudden burst of resolve, James breaks the kiss, planting his hands on your waist and lifting you off his lap. “Okay! No spending the entire day in bed today. We are going out, and we are seeing Solistia.”

You immediately groan, letting yourself flop backward onto the pile of silk pillows, throwing an arm over your eyes. “But I want to sleep! And make out more!”

James turns toward your dramatically sprawled form on the bed, shaking his head with an amused grin. “Absolutely not. No. You were the one who risked your life, escaped your own kingdom, and traveled across the continent just to visit Solistia. And now you just want to sit in bed and ignore the whole city? Not happening. Get up.”

You let out one final, highly dramatic groan into the silk pillows, but James’s teasing grin is entirely infectious. Reluctantly, you roll over and slide off the mattress, your bare feet padding across the cool, polished marble floor.

“Fine, fine,” you complain half-heartedly, shooting him a playful glare. “But for the record, skipping sight-seeing for a few more hours of making out is a perfectly valid itinerary.”

James just chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans his shoulder against one of the heavy bedposts. “Keep telling yourself that, love. Now go get changed.”

You stick your tongue out at him before turning toward the wooden doors at the far end of the chamber. You pull them open, and your breath instantly catches in your throat.

It isn’t just a closet; it’s practically a mini-boutique. The massive walk-in space is illuminated by a warm, golden glow, lined with racks upon racks of stunning garments, rows of handcrafted leather shoes, and velvet-lined displays sparkling with an overwhelming amount of jewelry.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, your eyes wide as you step into the room.

From behind you, James lets out an amused snort, strolling in with his hands tucked into his pockets. “Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction last night when I was snooping around. Queen Dorcas really didn’t hold back. She prepared for literally everything.”

“You already snooped in here?” you ask, laughing as you turn to look at him.

“Of course I did. It’s a habit,” he says with a wink. He steps up to one of the racks, his fingers brushing past silk and velvet before pulling out a deeply colored doublet, a crisp linen blouse, and tailored dark trousers. “Look at this. Very lavish. I might actually look like a proper gentleman instead of a rogue fleeing across borders.”

You giggle, watching him admire the high-quality fabric. “You always look handsome, James. Even in tavern rags.”

James’s cheeks tint a faint pink, and he clears his throat, quickly turning his attention to your side of the closet to hide his smirk. “Right. Well, let’s find something for you.”

Your eyes scan the vibrant array of fabrics until they lock onto a specific gown tucked near the middle. You pull it from the rack, a sigh of awe escaping your lips. 

It is a stunning, laced purple dress—the corset bodice intricately embroidered with delicate, swirling patterns of pink and gold thread, flowing down into a soft, layered skirt.

“This one,” you say, holding it up against yourself.

James’s eyes soften dramatically as he looks at you holding the gown. “Wow. Yeah. That’s definitely the one, love. You’re going to look incredible.”

Before he can distract you with that intense gaze again, you turn to the jewelry displays. Your fingers trace over the velvet, picking out a silver necklace with a tiny, gleaming amethyst pendant that rests perfectly right against your collarbone. Next, you slide a slender, beautifully engraved silver ring onto your finger, along with a few matching hairpins to keep your stray locks in place.

“Alright, out,” you tease, gently shoving James’s broad chest toward the door. “Go dress in the washroom. I need to put this on.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” he jokes, bowing low with mock reverence before gathering his clothes and heading out.

The dress fits like an absolute dream, the laces tightening snugly against your waist while the skirt moves fluidly around your ankles. By the time you fix your jewelry and step back into the main bedroom, James is already waiting.

He is leaning against the balcony railing, but the second the click of your shoes echoes on the marble, he snaps his head around. His jaw almost drops. The lavish tailored blouse and trousers make him look incredibly dashing, but all his attention is locked entirely on you. 

“Woah,” he breathes out, stepping forward and bridging the gap between you in three long strides. His hands gently find your waist, his eyes drinking in the sight of you in the purple dress. “You look… absolutely beautiful.”

Your heart flutters wildly against your ribs. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Mr. Rogue.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he murmurs.

He leans down, catching your lips in a sweet kiss that quickly threatens to turn into the very thing he just banned you from doing. His thumb strokes your hip through the fabric of the dress, making you melt against him.

With a soft laugh, you playfully push his chest again, breaking the kiss before you both lose your track of time. “Ah-ah! You said no spending the day in bed. We have a kingdom to see.”

“Right, right. Damn my own rules,” James groans, though he’s grinning from ear to ear.

You both quickly scramble around the room, grabbing a small satchel, a few coins, and the necessities for a day out in the city. Hand in hand, you burst through the double doors of your grand chamber, your shared laughter echoing down the high, vaulted corridors of the massive castle. 

As you rush past the bewildered but smiling royal guards, giggling like two kids sneaking out of class, the burden of the past days finally feel a million miles away.

The palace doors slide open, and you and James step out into the crisp, sun-warmed air of Solistia. As you walk through the outer courtyards, a small army of servants and royal guards bow deeply, offering warm smiles and treating the two of you with the exact same reverence they would show to born royalty.

But the moment you cross the grand threshold of the castle gates and step out into the city proper, the majesty of the palace vanishes, replaced by a roaring wall of sound.

You stop in your tracks, blinking in utter surprise at just how incredibly busy the kingdom is outside. The cobblestone streets are absolutely packed with people. Everywhere you look, city workers are perched on tall wooden ladders, scurrying across rooftops, and scaling the stone arches of the buildings. T

hey are busy hanging up massive, vibrant purple banners emblazoned with Solistia’s royal crest—a golden-yellow sun.

You nudge James’s arm with your elbow, pointing up at a nearby banner. “Oh… look. They are preparing for the lantern light release tomorrow.”

James looks up, shielding his eyes from the glare of the afternoon sun as he takes in the sea of purple and gold. He nods slowly. “Yeah. It’s a beautiful festival and celebration. If only the people down here actually knew the true meaning behind it.”

“Yeah,” you agree, a sad smile touching your lips. “But I still think it’s incredibly beautiful. I mean, honoring Marlene like that, year after year… I didn’t know her, obviously, but I think she would have loved this. To see the whole kingdom light up for her.”

James turns his head, his amber eyes melting as he looks down at you. “She definitely would have, love.”

The two of you melt back into the crowd, walking hand-in-hand down the bustling street. The smells of roasting nuts, fresh bread, and sugar fill the air, making your stomach rumble. 

Just as you are looking around for something to eat, your eyes catch on a quaint, charming little pub tucked between a tailor’s shop and a bakery. It looks lively and exactly like the kind of place where you can hide out for a bit. “Oh, let’s go in there!” you urge, tugging on James’s arm and steering him toward the wooden door.

“Lead the way,” he chuckles, letting you drag him along.

A bright bell chimes above you as you push the door open and step inside. The pub is warm and smelling of spiced ale, but any thoughts of the decor are instantly wiped from your mind the moment you see the person standing behind the bar.

The woman greeting you is, quite frankly, one heck of a woman. She is a walking explosion of color, sporting a mane of bright blue hair, and her face is decorated with shimmering gems pasted along her cheekbones and eyebrows. 

The moment she spots the two of you, her face lights up with an energetic, beaming smile.

“Well, hello you twooo!” she sings out, as she leans over the polished wooden counter, resting her chin in her hands.

You can’t help but laugh at her infectious energy, stepping forward and offering a polite, bright smile. “Hi! Hello. I’m Margaret and this is—”

But before you can even finish your sentence, the woman’s eyes dart from you to the man standing at your side. Her jaw drops, and she lets out a loud gasp that echoes off the wooden rafters of the pub.

“—James?!” she screeches, her hands flying to her cheeks.

James instantly freezes beside you, his entire posture stiffening as his eyes widen in absolute shock. “Stalyan?!”

“Oh my absolute god!” the-so-called-Stalyan laughs hysterically, practically throwing herself over the wooden counter. She doesn’t even bother taking the walkaround; she just vaults over the bar with ease, her colorful skirts flying, and throws her arms around James’s neck. 

She hugs him so tightly that James lets out a breathless “oof” sound, his arms hovering awkwardly in the air before he hesitantly pats her back.

You slightly flinch back, your eyebrows shooting straight to your hairline. You stand there, completely surprised and momentarily speechless. 

Stalyan? James had told you, multiple times, that he had never set foot in Solistia before. Yet, here was a woman with bright blue hair and face gems hugging him like they were long-lost soulmates in the middle of a Solistian pub. 

A tiny, unexpected prick of jealousy flares in your chest, but you quickly mask it, crossing your arms as you watch the reunion unfold.

Stalyan finally pulls back, keeping her hands resting heavily on James’s shoulders as she beams up at him. “Oh my god, look at you! How have you been? You look amazing!”

James blinks, still trying to process her sudden appearance. “I—I’ve been good. Great, actually. But, what on earth are you doing here in Solistia?”

She throws her head back, her melodious laugh ringing through the tavern. “What am I doing here? Honey, I live here! I work here! This is my place!” She gestures grandly to the pub around her.

“You live here?” James asks, his eyes scanning her blue hair, the shimmering gems glued to her skin, and her incredibly vibrant patchwork clothing. He shakes his head, utterly bewildered. “You look… so different. I mean, the hair, the style, the jewelry… everything.”

“Oh, please,” Stalyan says, giving her bright blue locks a playful toss. “A girl’s got to reinvent herself, doesn’t she? I’ve had some major upgrades and life changes since we last ran into each other.”

Suddenly, her sharp eyes snap over to you. The warmth in her expression doesn’t fade, but there is a distinct, curious glint in her eyes as she takes in your purple dress, your styled hair, and the way you are standing just a little close to James.

“And who is this absolute beauty?” she asks, leaning in slightly with an appreciative smile.

You quickly smooth down your skirt, offering a polite but somewhat guarded smile. “Oh, I’m Margaret,” you say, using your cover name smoothly. “James and I are… well, we’re travelers. We’re traveling together, which is why we’re here in the city.”

“Travelers, huh?” Stalyan purrs, her gaze bouncing between you and James, taking in the subtle tension and the way James’s eyes instinctively drift to make sure you are comfortable. 

A knowing smirk plays on her lips. “Well, Margaret, any friend of James is a friend in my house. Come on, you two absolutely have to sit down. I won’t take no for an answer!”

She practically herds the two of you over to a semi-private booth in the corner of the tavern. James slides in first, and you slide in right next to him, the fabric of your dresses brushing together. Stalyan grabs a bottle of sweet ale and three glasses, sliding into the booth opposite you both with a sigh of contentment.

She pours the drinks, pushing one toward you and one toward James. You look between James, who is suddenly looking very focused on his fingernails, and Stalyan, who is sipping her drink with an amused expression.

“So,” you start, keeping your voice casual and light, though your eyes are narrowed just a fraction. “How do you two actually know each other? James told me he’d never been to Solistia.”

She shoots a wicked, teasing glance at James, whose cheeks are slowly starting to turn a very noticeable shade of pink. “Oh, we didn’t meet in Solistia, darling,” Stalyan says, giving you a slow wink. “Me and James knew each other very well back in the day, before I moved here. You could say we were… exceptionally close friends.”

James lets out a forced, slightly strained laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes dart nervously from you to Stalyan. “Yeah. Stalyan was… well, you could say she was a very good friend from back then. A long time ago.”

You watch him closely, taking mental note of just how tense his shoulders have suddenly become. He is practically radiating nervous energy.

“Ahhh,” you drawl slowly, nodding with a tightly polite smile. You turn your attention back to the vibrant woman sitting across from you, leaning forward slightly. “So, Stalyan… I take it you’re originally from Valenora, then?”

As you ask, a doubt whispers in the back of your mind. If she really is from Valenora, and if she and James were as close as she claims, how does she not recognize you? You are the princess, after all. 

Granted, your father kept you heavily shielded; you only ever appeared once a year, waving from a high, distant carriage during your birthday parade. Your face was never plastered on coins or heavily publicized like your brothers’ were, but still—it feels a little odd that someone so deeply embedded in James’s past wouldn’t have at least a passing suspicion.

Stalyan chuckles, taking a slow sip of her drink as she leans back against the wooden booth. “Oh, I am indeed a Valenorangirl by birth, darling. Though I never was one to stick in one place for too long. The road always called my name. Me and James—”

She cuts herself off to shoot James a teasing, amused look.

“—well, we used to run in the same circles. Before I decided to pack up, change my look, and make a proper home for myself here in the City of Stars. But what about you, Margaret? You don’t exactly sound like you’re from the outer provinces.”

James quickly clears his throat, intercepting before you can answer Stalyan’s question about your background. “Margaret’s family is from the northern territories,” he lies smoothly, offering a tight smile. “But we’ve been traveling for a while.”

Stalyan raises an eyebrow, clearly seeing right through his quick defense, but she graciously lets it slide. Instead, she leans back, her gaze lingering on James as she swirls the liquid in her glass. “Well, look at you, James. Honestly. Last time I saw you, you were just a scrappy, exhausted recruit sweating through guard training.” 

She chuckles. “How is the job, anyway? Still taking orders from the high and mighty?”

James shifts slightly in the booth, his hand instinctively reaching out to rest near yours on the wooden table. “Actually, things have changed quite a bit. I work as a private guard for one of the royals now.” He keeps his voice entirely neutral, carefully avoiding even a glance in your direction so as not to give away that the “royal” in question is currently sitting right next to him. “But… I’m actually on a bit of a holiday right now. Taking some time off.”

“A private guard for a royal,” Stalyan repeats slowly. She looks him up and down, taking in his tailored clothing, his clean-shaven jaw, and the confidence he carries now. 

A bittersweet silence settles over the table. The lively, bubbly front she had been putting on suddenly slips away, leaving behind a raw, wistful expression.

“You’ve changed, James,” she says softly, her bright blue hair catching the dim tavern light. “You’ve built a real career for yourself. You’re not that desperate kid trying to prove something anymore.” Her voice drops a bit, a sad look clouding her eyes as she stares into her drink. “I guess… you finally got what you left behind, huh?”

James lets out a defeated sigh, his knuckles whitening slightly as he clutches his glass. He looks incredibly tense, his eyes darting nervously between Stalyan’s face and yours. 

Realizing the atmosphere has completely shifted, James clears his throat and slides out of the booth, gently pulling you up with him. “It… it really was nice meeting you here, Stalyan. But we should probably get going before it gets too dark.”

Stalyan blinks, the sad look vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, replaced once again by her bright, dazzling smile. “Of course, of course! Duty calls, even on holiday.” 

She stands up, waving a hand dismissively. “It was wonderful seeing you again, James. Truly. And it was lovely to meet you, Margaret. Take care of him.”

“You too, Stalyan,” you reply politely, offering a small smile.

The moment the heavy wooden door of the pub swings shut behind you, the bustling sounds of the tavern are cut off, replaced by the cool evening air of the city street. 

The silence between you and James is deafening. You walk side-by-side for a few paces, the tension building with every single step until you can’t take it anymore. You stop dead in your tracks on the cobblestone path. James stops too, turning to look at you with an incredibly guilty, braced expression.

You look him dead in the eye, dropping all the playful pretense from earlier. “That wasn’t just some old friend from back home, was she?” you ask, your voice quiet but incredibly direct. “She’s your ex. Right?”

James closes his eyes, letting out a long, exhausted sigh. He rubs the back of his neck, refusing to look at you for a second before his eyes finally meet yours. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Me and Stalyan dated.”

You stand there for a moment, processing his confession. You don’t feel angry—not really—but there is an ache in your chest. You look down at the cobblestones, then back up at him, offering a small, understanding tilt of your head.

“I see,” you say, starting to walk again. James immediately falls into step beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. You peek up at him. “So… what happened between you two? That is, if you don’t mind me asking.”

James lets out a breath, the tension slowly draining from his frame as he realizes you aren’t mad. “No, it’s alright. I don’t mind,” he begins. “We met during my early days of guard training. Stalyan’s father was actually one of the training captains, and on the side, he was a pretty wealthy trader. Her family was originally from the southern coast, but they’d lived and worked in Valenora for years. Stalyan was… well, she was loud, completely unapologetic, and she didn’t care about the rules. I think, back then, I was so suffocated by trying to be the perfect recruit that her wildness drew me in.”

He pauses, a faint, nostalgic smile touching his lips before it quickly fades. “We dated for about two years,” he continues, shaking his head. “But as time went on, things just started getting complicated. It didn’t work out. We ended up breaking up about three years ago, right before I got my official placement.”

You nod slowly, taking in every word, assembling the pieces of the younger, scrappier James he had just described. It’s strange to picture him with someone else, to realize there was a whole chapter of his life before you that you knew nothing about. You walk in silence for a few yards, listening to the distant chatter of the Solistian streets, before the burning question in your mind finally slips past your lips.

“Why did you break up?” you ask, looking up at him.

James suddenly goes quiet. His gaze dropping to his boots as he walks. He clears his throat. “Well,” he rubs the back of his neck, his voice dropping an octave. “She wanted to get married.”

Your footsteps falter for a fraction of a second. “Married?” you repeat, the word tasting completely unexpected on your tongue.

“Yeah,” James says with a heavy sigh. “She wanted a commitment. She wanted a house, a family, the whole routine. But back then, I was entirely consumed by my career. I wanted to finish my training, establish myself, and work my way up to being a high-ranking royal guard. I didn’t want to get married. I wasn’t ready for it, and honestly, I couldn’t picture myself settling down like that. So… we hit a wall, and we parted ways.”

You fall into a deep, silent reverie as you stroll beside him. The revelation echoes loudly in your mind. James didn’t want to get married.

It’s a thought that suddenly makes your chest feel incredibly tight, sending a cold pang of reality straight through you. You think about your own situation—the impending royal marriage to Prince Caelum that you are desperately trying to escape, and the secret, wild fantasies you’ve harbored of a life spent running away with James. 

You had never actually stopped to think about what James wanted for his own future. Did he view marriage as a cage? Was he a man who would always prefer the freedom of the road, unbound by vows and legalities?

Trying to shake the sudden, heavy cloud of thoughts, you swallow the lump in your throat and look up at him, your voice carefully neutral. “Do you regret it? I mean… you seemed really happy to see her again today.”

James stops walking. He turns to you, taking his hands out of his pockets, and his jaw practically drops. For a second, he just stares at you in sheer disbelief, before a massive, incredibly amused grin slowly spreads across his face.

Suddenly, he bursts out laughing. “Regret it?” he chuckles, stepping closer to you and shaking his head. “Oh, absolutely not. Me and Stalyan would have driven each other completely insane within a month of living together. We were a disaster, love.” 

He leans down slightly, his amber eyes glittering with a sudden, highly wicked spark of mischief. “Wait a minute… are you jealous?”

Your face instantly crumbles. “I am not!” you squeak, swatting at his arm, though you can’t help the betraying smile that tugs at your lips.

“Oh, you are! You totally are!” James teases, practically vibrating with delight as he nudges your shoulder with his own. “The great, royal Princess of Valenora is jealous of a blue-haired tavern owner! I can’t believe this. My ego has never been higher.”

“James, shut up! I am not jealous!” you laugh, your face twisting as you quicken your pace to get away from him.

“Come on, baby,” he coos, easily matching your stride and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you back against his side. “Admit it. You saw her hug me and you wanted to throw your sweet ale right at her face, didn’t you?”

“You are absolutely insufferable,” you groan, hiding your burning face against his shoulder as you walk. But the anxious knot in your chest completely dissolves, replaced by the bubbling sound of your shared laughter as you stroll together under the sun of Solistia.

James doesn’t let you off the hook easily, laughing and gently bumping his shoulder against yours as you walk. “Oh, come on, you definitely had a little flare of jealousy in those pretty eyes of yours,” he teases, his voice dripping with playful satisfaction. “Don’t worry, Princess. My heart belongs entirely to my very demanding, very gorgeous boss.”

“I am not demanding!” you protest, laughing as you shove his chest, though you can’t help but smile as he pulls you back into his side.

For the next few hours, the two of you lose yourselves in the vibrant streets of Solistia. 

You slip in and out of boutiques, admiring handmade goods, smelling exotic dried spices, and simply enjoying the freedom of being just another ordinary couple in the crowd. But as the hours slip by, the colors of the afternoon fade. The sun sinks fully beneath the horizon, painting the sky in deep indigos.

With your hands full of small shopping parcels, you and James turn back toward the grand stone steps of the castle. As you walk up the winding path leading to the side gates, the chatter of the city fades into a peaceful silence.

“I still can’t believe you managed to charm half the merchants into giving us discounts,” James murmurs, looking down at you with an affectionate smile. “You have a dangerous gift, Y/N.”

“It’s called negotiating, James,” you tease, looking up at the towering, illuminated spires of the castle ahead. “You should try it sometime instead of just looking intimidating.”

“Hey, looking intimidating is a highly valued skill too,” he chuckles, shifting the bags in his arms.

But just as you reach the arched stone threshold of the castle entrance, a sharp, familiar voice cuts through the quiet night air.

“James! Wait!”

Both of you freeze, turning around in unison.

Trotting up the cobblestone path is a beautiful, dark-furred horse, and sitting astride it is Stalyan. Her bright blue hair is tied back, and the colorful gems on her face catch the flickering light of the castle lanterns. She quickly dismounts, tossing the reins over a nearby post, and rushes toward the two of you. Her usual bubbly, energetic guard is completely down, replaced by a nervous expression.

“Stalyan?” James asks, his eyebrows drawing together in utter confusion. “What are you doing here?”

She stops a few feet away, her chest rising and falling as she looks at James, completely ignoring the castle guards standing watch nearby. “James… please. Can we talk? Just for a few minutes?”

You look at Stalyan, taking in the vulnerable, searching look in her eyes. It doesn’t take a genius to realize what she wants to talk about; the unfinished business of their past, the unresolved feelings of a relationship that ended because of bad timing—it’s all written clearly across her face.

A heavy lump forms in your throat, but you force yourself to swallow it down. You don’t want to be the barrier between James and the closure he might need.

You gently touch James’s arm, offering him a soft, reassuring nod. “Go ahead,” you whisper. “I’ll head inside and take the bags up. Take your time.”

James looks down at you, a flicker of hesitation and deep concern crossing his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s okay,” you say, offering a small, encouraging smile before turning to walk through the castle doors. You step into the warm, torch-lit grand hallway, the heavy doors clicking shut behind you, walking slowly, your heart squeezing with a dull ache as you wonder what they are saying to each other out there in the dark.

Outside, James watches the doors close behind you until he is certain you are safely inside. 

He turns back to Stalyan, his expression shifting. He gestures toward a secluded stone archway nearby, completely out of earshot of the castle guards and anyone else. “Talk to me, Stalyan,” James says, crossing his arms as he looks at her. “What’s going on? Why did you follow us all the way up here?”

Stalyan looks at him, her fingers nervously tracing the fabric of her colorful vest. She lets out a bitter little laugh, shaking her head. “I couldn’t just let you walk away again,” she admits, her voice cracking slightly. She looks up, meeting his amber eyes directly. “Are you and her together?”

James whips his head back slightly, his posture instantly stiffening. “What?”

A sad, knowing smile touches Stalyan’s lips. She steps a fraction closer, looking at him with a mixture of fondness and regret. “Oh, come on, James. I’ve known you since we were kids. I’ve seen the way you look at people. You never looked at anyone the way you look at Margaret. You two seem… incredibly fond of each other.”

“Stalyan, what is this about?” James asks. He keeps his eyes locked on her, trying to read the storm of emotions passing over her face.

She steps closer, the gems on her cheekbones glinting under the faint light. “I know we ended terribly, James. I know we fought, and I know I walked away angry. But… I never forgot about you. After we ended things, it was like a part of me stayed stuck in Valenora.” 

She pauses, swallowing hard before looking up at him. “And well… I was thinking. Why don’t you stay here? In Solistia. With me.”

James’s breath hitches. His arms slowly drop to his sides, his eyes widening in pure shock. “Stay here? Stalyan, what are you talking about? My entire life is in Valenora. My family, my job—”

“Your job as a regular guard?” Stalyan cuts in quickly, her words tumbling out in a hurried rush as she reaches out, her hand hovering just inches from his arm. “James, listen to me. My father… he didn’t just retire to the coast. He moved his trading business here to the Capital. He has a massive, incredibly high position within the merchant guild and the inner ring of Solistia. He has influence, James. If I ask him, he could grant you a top-tier security position here tomorrow. A captaincy.”

James freezes, he knows exactly how wealthy and powerful Stalyan’s family is. He remembers the massive trading ships her father controlled, the sheer amount of influence they held even back in Valenora. 

If he takes this offer—if he accepts a position under her father’s wing in Solistia—the pay alone would be life-altering. It would easily pay triple, if not quadruple, what he currently makes as a royal guard in Valenora. He could have a lavish apartment, absolute financial freedom, and a career peak he had only ever dreamed of as a recruit.

Stalyan sees the calculation running through his head, and a spark of hope lights up her eyes. She steps even closer, her voice softening into a pleading whisper. “I still think it could work out between us, James. I really do. We were young, we were stubborn, but we’ve grown up. And isn’t this exactly what you always wanted? There is a real, high-paying career for you here. Solistia is a booming, busy city with endless opportunities, unlike the traditional walls of Valenora. Everything you used to complain about, everything you stressed over… this fixes it.”

James stands entirely paralyzed in the shadows. A dizzying wave of temptation washes over him, striking him right in the chest. 

He can’t deny it. If Stalyan had made this exact offer three years ago, he would have dropped everything in a heartbeat. It was quite literally everything he had ever wanted—the status, the wealth, the ultimate validation of his hard work, all wrapped up in a city that never sleeps. It was the blueprint of the life he had mapped out for himself while sweating through basic training.

But as he stands there, the image of a purple dress, a brilliant, mischievous smile, and a pair of eyes flashes vividly behind his eyelids. 

He thinks of you currently waiting for him inside the castle walls—the princess he was supposed to just protect, but instead completely lost his heart to.

Slowly, the temptation fades, leaving behind nothing but a clear, resolute calm. James slowly shakes his head, letting out heavy breath. “I can’t, Stalyan,” he says softly, his voice laced with profound sincerity. “I’m sorry. But I can’t accept that.”

Stalyan’s face falls, her hand dropping back to her side. She tries to force a brave, dismissive smile, though her eyes grow bright with unshed tears. “You… you have time to think about my offer, you know. You don’t have to give me an answer right this second. Sleep on it. Think about the position—”

“I don’t think I’ll change my mind,” James interrupts gently, stepping forward so he isn’t hiding in the shadows anymore. 

He looks down at her with immense kindness, treating her past with the respect it deserves. “Listen to me. I know when we broke it off, it was because all I cared about was my career. I was obsessed with it. I thought my title and my rank defined who I was, and I let that ruin what we had. But it’s different now, Stalyan. I’m content with what I have in Valenora. I don’t need the triple pay. I don’t need the captaincy in a busy city.”

Her gaze drops for a second, a bittersweet realization finally clicking in her mind.“It’s not about your career anymore, is it?” she asks quietly. She tilts her head toward the grand castle doors. “It’s about her. Right? Margaret.”

“Yeah,” James murmurs, his voice filled with an absolute, undeniable certainty. “I’m in love with her.”

Stalyan lets out a shaky, watery laugh, nodding her head slowly as a single tear slips down her cheek, catching the amber light. “Yeah. I figured. Like I said… I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her. You never looked at me like that, James. Not even when we were at our best.” 

She wipes her cheek quickly with the back of her hand, taking a step back toward her horse. “Well… I’m happy for you. I’m glad you found that. But still… my offer stands. If things ever go south, or if you just need a fresh start, the job is yours. Whenever.”

James feels a tight squeeze in his throat. He steps toward her, his chest aching with a profound sense of guilt for the lingering pain he’s caused her. “I’m sorry, Stalyan. I really am. I know you… I know you still feel something for what we used to be, but I just—”

“Hey,” Stalyan cuts him off, raising a hand to stop him, she smiles through the glassy sheen in her eyes. “I understand, James. I really do. You don’t need to apologize for growing up and falling in love.”

She takes a deep breath, looking up at the grand castle. “I wish you both the absolute best. Now, stop standing out here in the freezing cold talking to your ex. Go inside. Go get your girl.”

James lets out a grateful laugh. Without another word, he steps forward and pulls Stalyan into a tight embrace. It’s a hug full of finality, closure, and deep gratitude for the past they shared. Stalyan squeezes him back tightly for a brief second before pulling away, patting his chest.

“Thank you, Stalyan,” James says softly.

She offers him one last wink before turning around, vaulting effortlessly back onto her horse, and pulling the reins. With a quick click of her tongue, she rides off into the night, leaving James standing alone under the stars. 

He watches her go for a brief moment before turning on his heel and striding purposefully toward the castle doors, ready to find you.

James pushes open the wooden doors of the castle’s side entrance and steps into the grand foyer. It takes him a solid ten minutes of navigating winding, cavernous stone corridors, climbing spiraling staircases, and passing under endless vaulted ceilings just to reach your shared wing. 

(Seriously, fuck this castle; it is absolutely, unnecessarily massive.)

By the time he finally reaches the heavy double doors of your room, his legs are aching, and his mind is spinning. He slips inside, quietly closing the door behind him. The room is softly lit by the warm glow of a few desktop lanterns. 

There you are, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the massive plush bed, surrounded by the small glass jars of vibrant painting bottles you bought earlier. You have a small piece of parchment resting on a book in your lap, carefully swatching a deep red paint with one of your new brushes.

James stands by the door for a moment, waiting. But you don’t look up. You don’t even offer a distracted “hello.” You just keep your eyes trained on the paper, your brush strokes silent.

James lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He walks over to the wardrobe to shed his heavy outer gear, pulling off his leather boots and trading his formal jacket for a loose, comfortable linen shirt. Once he’s dressed down, he walks over to the bed, the mattress dipping significantly under his weight as he sits down right beside you.

He watches you paint in silence for a few seconds. “So,” he starts, his voice quiet and careful. “I’m taking it something big is bothering you, for you to completely ignore me.”

“I’m not bothered,” you reply smoothly, your voice entirely flat as you dip your brush into a jar of shimmering gold paint, still refusing to look at him.

“Right. And I’m the King of Valenora,” James mutters. He leans in closer, trying to catch your eye. “Come on, love. You haven’t even looked at me since I walked through the door. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You ignore him, reaching for a fresh jar of blue paint.

Before your fingers can touch the glass, James’s hands gently but firmly wrap around yours. He carefully takes the paint bottles and the brush from your grip, setting them down on the nightstand out of your reach. Then, hands resting on your waist, he gently but insistently nudges you until you are turned fully toward him on the mattress.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his amber eyes searching yours, filled with a soft, pleading warmth. “Talk to me. What is it?”

You stare at his chest for a second, the cool facade you tried so hard to maintain finally cracking. You take a deep, shaky breath, the jealousy and insecurity that had been clawing at your throat all evening finally spilling out.

“Stalyan wants you back, right?” you ask, your voice quiet but thick with worry. “That’s why she followed us all the way to the castle. She wants to be with you again.”

James blinks, momentarily taken aback, before he quickly holds up his hands. “Woah, woah. Okay, no. It’s not like that. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

You furrow your eyebrows, crossing your arms defensively. “Then what was it, James? She looked like she was about to cry, and you two were out there for a long time.”

James lets out a slow sigh, his shoulders dropping as he leans his elbows on his knees, looking at you with honesty. “Look… she did ask me to stay here. In Solistia.”

Your heart does a painful, violent flip in your chest, but you keep quiet, letting him explain.

“She told me her father didn’t actually retire to the coast,” James continues softly, his eyes locking onto yours to make sure you hear every word. “He moved his trade business here to the Capital, and he apparently has a massive amount of influence within the inner ring. Stalyan offered to have him pull some strings to get me a top-tier security job here. A captaincy.” 

He rubs the back of his neck, a wry, self-deprecating smile on his face. “Knowing her family, the pay alone would have been triple what I make back in Valenora. I’d have a lavish place, wealth, status… basically everything I used to obsess over when I was a scrappy recruit.”

He pauses, watching your expression closely. You feel a cold, heavy lump form in your throat as the sheer weight of her offer sinks in.

“And… why didn’t you stay?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper as you look up at him, your chest aching. “Isn’t that better for you? James, that’s everything you’ve ever worked for. You wouldn’t have to worry about the royal family and you’d be incredibly wealthy. If she still has feelings for you, and she’s offering you a dream life… why on earth are you still sitting on this bed with me?”

James stares at you, his amber eyes softening as he takes in the raw vulnerability on your face. He doesn’t hesitate for even a fraction of a second. Reaching out, he gently cups your face, his warm thumbs brushing over your cheekbones to anchor you to him.

“Because none of that matters to me anymore,” he says, his voice incredibly steady, ringing with an absolute, quiet conviction. “Not the captaincy, not the triple pay, not the fancy apartment in Solistia. None of it.”

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes scanning his face, trying to find any hint of hesitation, any flicker of regret. But there is nothing but devotion in his gaze. Still, the insecure, rationalizing part of your brain refuses to let it go.

“But James, it’s everything,” you insist, your voice cracking slightly as you lean into his touch, despite yourself. “You told me yourself—when you were training, you wanted status. You wanted to prove to everyone that you could make something of yourself. Stalyan’s father could give you a life where you never have to take orders from some spoiled noble again. You’d be your own man. And…” 

You swallow hard, the most painful question finally slipping past your lips. “And what about her? Do you… do you still love her?”

James’s hands slide down from your cheeks to wrap securely around your wrists, pulling your hands into his lap. He looks you dead in the eye, shaking his head.

“No,” he says, his voice firm and completely devoid of doubt. “No, I do not love her. I haven’t loved Stalyan in years. What we had… it was a lifetime ago. We were kids trying to cling to each other because we were both terrified of the future. But we grew apart, and we wanted entirely different things. The spark died long before we actually parted ways. I care about her as a friend from my past, and I’m glad she’s doing well. But that’s it.”

“Are you sure?” you whisper, your fingers tightening around his. “If you stayed, you wouldn’t have to deal with my mess. You wouldn’t have to hide. You wouldn’t be on the run with a princess who has a target on her back.”

“I am surer of this than I have ever been of anything in my entire life,” James says, leaning forward until his forehead gently rests against yours. You can feel the warm, steady rhythm of his breath against your skin. “You think I want a life of luxury if it means waking up in a city where you aren’t there? You think a fancy title means anything to me if I’m not protecting the one person who actually matters?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, a soft, tender smile touching his lips.

“Three years ago, yeah, I would have taken that job in a heartbeat,” he admits honestly. “Because back then, I was empty. I thought a title and a heavy purse would fill the void. But then I got assigned to you. I watched you, I learned you, and… I got attached to being with you. You changed everything for me. My ambition isn’t to be a captain in Solistia anymore. My only ambition is to keep you safe and to be by your side, wherever the hell we end up.”

A tear finally slips down your cheek, and James immediately reaches up to brush it away with his thumb, his expression melting into pure adoration.

“I don’t want a dream life in the City of Stars, love,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I just want you. In a tiny shack, on a bumpy road, or in a massive, annoying castle—it doesn’t matter. As long as I’m with you, I have everything I ever wanted.”

The last of the icy tension in your chest completely melts away, replaced by a rushing, overwhelming wave of warmth. You let out a watery laugh, throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of his shoulder. 

James wraps his strong arms around your waist, pulling you tightly against his chest, holding you as if he never plans on letting you go. “Thank you, James,” you whisper, wiping the last traces of your tears away.

James lets out a teasing chuckle. He gently taps the tip of your nose. “Alright, enough crying, such a dramatic Princess. Go on, go change into something comfortable before you freeze in that dress.”

You roll your eyes playfully, giving him a gentle nudge before sliding off the bed. You head over to the partition to change out of your heavy gown. But as you reach around to the back of your bodice, your fingers fumble. The silk laces of your corset are pulled into a tight, stubborn knot that refuses to budge. No matter how much you pull, it only seems to tighten.

“James?” you call out, a little sheepishly, peering around the partition. “I’m stuck. Can you help me with the laces?”

“Yes, of course,” he murmurs, as he walks over.

You turn your back to him, lifting your hair out of the way. The room is quiet, save for the soft, cool night breeze drifting in through the open window, making the curtains sway gently. James steps up close behind you. You can feel the heat radiating from his chest as his large, warm hands gently make contact with your bare shoulders.

Slowly, his fingers work at the stubborn knot. He untangles it with patience, and then, one by one, he begins to pull the laces free. With every lace he unthreads, the tight constriction of the gown loosens. The fabric of the purple dress begins to slide down your hips, completely falling away until it pools around your ankles.

You are left standing in nothing but your delicate, sheer undergarments.

The cool wind from the window brushes over your bare skin, sending a sudden shiver down your spine. 

You slowly turn around to face him. James is standing perfectly still, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes, dark with a sudden, burning intensity, slowly sweep over your frame.

“James…” you whisper, your voice a soft, trembling breath.

The sound of his name falling from your lips is the breaking point.

In an instant, James lunges forward. His hands fly to your face, his strong fingers cradling your jaw and burying themselves in your hair as his lips slam onto yours. 

The kiss is deep, breathless, and filled with a desperate hunger that has been building between you for ages. He pulls you flush against his chest, his mouth moving against yours with a passionate, possessive heat that leaves you completely dizzy.

Your hands scramble for purchase against his linen shirt, and you gently break the kiss, panting for air. “James… James, wait,” you whisper against his lips.

He stops, his forehead resting against yours, his chest heaving as he stares down at you with dilated pupils. “Yeah? What is it, love?”

You reach up, your hands cupping his warm, stubble-rough cheeks, holding his gaze. “I’ve thought about it,” you say, your heart pounding wildly against your ribs. “I want you. Please.”

James suddenly stiffens in your grip. A flicker of hesitation crosses his eyes, his protective instincts warring with his desire. “Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you into anything. I don’t want you to feel pressured just because of tonight, or—”

Before he can finish, you place a soft finger gently over his lips, shushing him.

“You told me I could think about it,” you whisper, looking up at him with absolute certainty. “You said if I felt the same way, I could have you whenever I wanted. Is that… is that wrong?”

James’s throat bobs as he swallows hard. He shakes his head slowly, his gaze dropping to your lips. “No. It’s not wrong.”

Taking a brave step forward, you gently guide him backward, pushing him down until he sits on the edge of the plush mattress. You step directly between his parted legs, standing close enough that your skin brushes against his knees.

With trembling fingers, you reach for the straps of your undergarments. As your bra falls loose and your undergarments follow, a sudden wave of shyness washes over you. 

You feel incredibly exposed. Aside from your maid Lily helping you dress, no one has ever seen you completely bare. You instinctively try to cover yourself, your shoulders tensing.

James immediately senses your nerves.

His large, warm hands slide onto your bare waist, his touch incredibly soft and reassuring. He applies just enough pressure to pull you closer, burying his face against your midriff before looking up at you.

“You are the most divine thing I have ever seen,” he murmurs, his voice thick with awe. “Don’t hide from me.”

He stands up slightly, his hands sliding up to your back to pull you completely against him as he claims your lips once more. He kisses you thoroughly, his tongue tangling with yours, before his lips slowly drift down to your jawline.

You arch your back as his mouth slides down to the sensitive skin of your neck. He presses warm, lingering kisses along your collarbone, his hands gripping your waist possessively. 

A soft, breathless moan escapes your lips, echoing in the dim room as James holds you close, erasing every ounce of doubt you ever had.

James stops holding back, the last of his guarded restraint completely shattering as he looks down at your trembling body. He pins your wrists harder against the mattress, his knuckles white, as his knee presses right up into the soaked, pulsing warmth between your legs.

“Fuck, look at you,” James growls, his voice raw and thick with a desperate hunger that makes your stomach flip. He stares directly at the heavy dampness staining the thin fabric of your panties, watching the sheer silk cling translucent to your skin. 

His chest heaves as he takes a ragged breath. “You’re completely ruining these for me, love. Tell me you want it. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“James, please,” you whimper, your head thrashing against the pillows. The pressure of his leg frictioning through your soaked panties right against your sensitive center was driving you completely insane.

You buck your hips up, desperately trying to grind the damp silk against his clothed knee, crying out at the agonizingly perfect friction. “I want you to touch me. Please.”

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he chokes out, a low, guttural sound ripping from his throat. He releases your wrists, but before you can move, he slithers up your body, his heavy torso pinning you down as his mouth violently claims yours again.

It isn’t a soft kiss; it’s a bruising, desperate possession, his tongue forcing its way deep into your mouth, tasting you, while his hand slides back down your belly, his fingers spreading wide over your hip before sliding under your waist and cupping you directly over the soaked lace.

James stops, taking a heavy, ragged breath as he forces himself to slow down. He senses the tremble in your limbs, the slight hesitation of a body that has never experienced this level of intense, overwhelming pleasure before.

Slowly, he releases your wrists, his hands sliding up to cup your face, his thumbs gently wiping away the sweat dampening your temples. “You are going to be good for me?” he asks, as he shifts his knee slightly, making you let out a high-pitched whine. 

He leans down, his scent—warm leather, cedar, and the heavy musk of his own arousal—filling your senses, mixing completely with the sweet, floral scent of the lilies you wore in your hair earlier. “So fucking cute, so responsive.”

Your chest heaves as you nod your head, looking up at him with pleading, glassy eyes. You want to be so good for him. 

He is a man who has lived a life before you, a guard who has traveled, who has had a past—with Stalyan, with others. The sudden, desperate urge to mark your place in his soul consumes you. You want him to remember this, to remember you, to know that no one else could ever compare to the raw, untamed way you yield to him tonight.

You can feel your pussy getting wetter by the second, the faint, slick friction of your own juices making a telling sound against his skin as his knee coaxes more moisture from you. 

You nod frantically in response to his question, knowing that if you try to speak, your voice will completely give out to a moan.

“Use your words, love,” James purrs, pressing his knee harder, right against your swollen clit.

You let out a loud, breathless cry at the sudden pressure against your bundle of nerves between your thighs. Desperately, you try to tilt your hips, trying to rut against his knee, against the plush mattress, against anything to find relief, but James releases your wrists only to place his hands on your hips, pinning you firmly in place.

“No moving yet. Answer me, hm?” he teases, his eyes darkening with a wicked, possessive glint.

“Y-Yes,” you manage to sob out, your hands instantly flying down to wrap around his strong wrists. “I want to be good. I’m sorry.”

“Good. Now,” James murmurs, his large hands slowly kneading the soft, sensitive skin of your hips. His thumb catches onto the lacy edge of your undergarments. You let out a sharp gasp when he pulls the elastic back and releases it, letting it snap with a resounding, sting-sweet snap against your hip. “What do you want me to do to you, Princess?”

You gulp, trying to gather your thoughts as James slowly lowers his head, leaving a trail of kisses down your collarbone, over your stomach, down to your navel, before finally stopping right at your clothed mound.

“I-I want—ah!—please, please take it off—” you pant, your fingers tangling in his dark hair.

“Take what off, pretty girl?” he asks, a dark, low chuckle vibrating against your lower stomach. 

He reaches down and hooks your legs, draping your thighs over his broad shoulders to open you completely to his gaze. He buries his face right against the lacy fabric covering your pussy, taking a deep, ragged breath of your sweet, intoxicating arousal.

He lets out a low, guttural groan at the scent. Without warning, he licks the soaking lace in one long stroke. You squirm violently, a loud grunt escaping your throat as his nose nudges directly against your clit through the wet cloth.

“My underwear,” you grit out, your knuckles turning white as you grip the bedsheets, crying out as he licks you through the fabric a second time. You shudder, fighting through the wave of pleasure to finish your plea. “I—I want you to take my underwear off. I want to feel you. Please, James.”

James looks up from between your thighs, his eyes completely dilated, burning with an unholy level of desire. He runs his calloused hands slowly up the inner curve of your thighs, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to the soft skin there.

“Such a good princess,” he whispers.

Your eyes glaze over, a helpless whine escaping your lips, making a dark, thoroughly satisfied smile spread across his face.

James doesn’t waste another second. Gripping the lace of your underwear, he tugs at them impatiently. With a few desperate jerks of his hands, he tears the fabric away from your legs. 

You hear the seams snap loudly in his haste, the rough texture of the sliding lace sending an electrifying thrill over your bare skin as he tosses the ruined cloth onto the floor, leaving you completely exposed, trembling, and utterly yours under his gaze.

He doesn’t waste time. His calloused fingers slide right into your soaking wet folds, instantly finding your sensitive clit and applying firm pressure that makes your entire body arch off the bed with a loud, ringing scream.

“Ah—James! James!”

James stops, taking a ragged breath as he forces himself to hold still, his body trembling with the sheer effort of keeping his restraint.

“Hey… It’s okay. I got you… I got you, love. Just breathe.” he whispers. You look up at him through heavy, half-lidded eyes, your chest heaving as you try to steady your erratic breath, your hips helplessly twitching beneath the weight of his thigh.

He grips your waist firmly, anchoring you to the mattress, before his fingers glide back down between your slick, parted thighs. He doesn’t rush—he cups your bare, throbbing center, letting you get used to the scorching weight of his palm against your bare skin.

You let out a sharp, hitching gasp, your thighs trembling violently as his thumb slowly sweeps across your swollen entrance, gathering your wetness and spreading it right over your sensitive clit.

“So fucking sensitive,” James murmurs, watching the way your eyes roll back at the tiny movement. “You’re burning up for me. Tell me… have you ever been touched like this before? Hmm? By anyone?”

You shake your head weakly against the pillow, your face flushing a deep, beautiful crimson. “N-no. Never.”

A possessive thrill shoots straight through James’s gaze. The realization that you are completely untouched, that your innocence belongs entirely to him, darkens his eyes to a near-black shade of desire. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, then to your jawline, whisper-talking against your sensitive skin.

“Good,” he growls softly, his fingers gently slicking your own juices over your hyper-sensitive clit. “You’re mine. Every inch of you.”

He circles your clit slowly, teasing you, making you whine and arch your back as your core desperately throbbed for more than just surface friction. You clump the bedsheets in your fists, your legs opening wider in a silent plea.

“James, please… it hurts a little,” you whimper, confused by the intense, aching fullness blooming deep inside you.

“I know, baby. I know you’re tight. You’ve never had to stretch for anyone,” James coos, his voice incredibly soft, yet dripping with a dark, heavy command. “It’s okay. You’re doing so well for your first time. Let me open you up.”

Slowly, the tip of his long, middle finger presses against your tight, virgin entrance. He pauses, letting you adjust to the sensation, before he slowly pushes his finger inside.

The tight grip of your cunt around his finger makes him let out a low, tortured groan. You gasp, your inner walls clenching violently around him in pure shock at the intrusion.

“Ah! James—”

“Shh, breathe through it. You’re doing beautifully,” he murmurs, his other hand smoothing down your thigh, anchoring you. He holds his finger perfectly still inside you, letting your body stretch and adjust to the unfamiliar fullness. “Look at how tight you’re gripping me. You’re so perfect.”

He begins to move his finger in a slow, agonizingly rhythm, sliding in and out, drawing your natural slickness deep. The wet, frictioned sounds of his finger working inside you echo in the room, making your face burn with a mixture of embarrassment and intense arousal.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his thumb sweeping over your clit to keep you wet, distracting you from the slight ache of stretching. 

“It… it feels so big,” you pant, your head rolling side to side. “It’s too much, but I—I want more. Please, James, don’t stop.”

James lets out a breathless, triumphant laugh, completely undone by your sweet, innocent honesty. “You want more? We’ve barely even started, baby.”

With a slow twist of his wrist, he coaxes a second finger inside you, pressing past the tight barrier of your cunt. You let out a high-pitched, breathless sob, your hips lifting off the mattress as your inner muscles desperately clench around his fingers, trying to process the thick stretch.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, I can barely move,” James chokes out, his muscles practically vibrating with the effort of keeping his pace slow. 

He bends his fingers slightly inside you, hooking them to find the sweet spot that makes your toes curl. “You are doing so, so well for me. Such a perfect girl.”

He begins to fuck you slowly with his fingers, the pace steady and deep, his thumb ruthlessly grinding against your clit with every thrust. 

You lose all sense of time and space, your hands flying to his shoulders, clutching his muscles for dear life as a series of helpless, high-pitched moans rip from your throat, completely surrendered to his touch.

James slowly slides his fingers out of your soaking core, the sudden loss of fullness making you whimper as the cool air of the room hits your highly sensitive, exposed pussy. 

He is throbbing violently in his trousers; he has truly never been harder or more desperate in his entire life. Looking at your sweet innocence, seeing how untouched and responsive you are to his touch, he feels a dangerous wave of pure addiction washing over him. He is completely hooked on the way you react to him.

He presses a firm, open-mouthed kiss directly to your clit, tasting your sweet slick on his tongue and letting out a low hum of approval.

“Look at you, making such a beautiful mess of yourself, love,” James murmurs, his voice a gravelly, low register as he rubs your folds.

The lewd, wet sloshing noises of your own arousal echo loudly in the quiet room, a scandalous testament to how completely unraveled he’s made you. He smiles against your sensitive skin, his thumb slowly circling your clit, smearing your own slickness right over it.

“Look at this mess you made,” James mutters, his voice thick, filthy, and dripping with satisfaction. “So fucking wet… why don’t I clean you up, love?”

Before you can even catch your breath, he licks a long, wet stripe from the very bottom of your slit all the way up to your clit, making your skin prickle with hot goosebumps. You shudder, a high, breathy moan spilling past your lips.

“James—gods—” you sob out, pushing your hips up, trying desperately to force him deeper against you. “Don’t tease me… put your mouth on me. Please.”

“Yeah? You want my tongue inside you?” James teases, his eyes dark and ravenous as he looks up at you. “Tell me how bad you need it.”

“I need it—I need you, James! Please!”

Without another word, he hooks your knees over his broad shoulders, holding your thighs open in a vice-like grip as he buries his face fully into your core. His tongue moves with a heavy, deliberate heat, lapping up your sweet nectar in long, greedy strokes. He pauses, looking up at you through his dark lashes, his flat tongue pinned right against your throbbing clit with a wicked, possessive smirk.

“You tashte sho fucking incredible,” he murmurs directly against your wet skin, the words muffled and slurred around his mouthful of you, yet completely clear. The deep vibration of his voice sends a sharp, electric spike of pleasure straight to your core. “All mine.”

You gasp, looking down at him through hooded eyes, your hands trembling where they rest on his shoulders. “It’s… it’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, James… you know that,” you tease through a shaky groan.

James lets out a low, rumbling laugh that vibrates right against your clit, making your hips twitch violently. “Teaching me manners even now, huh?” he teases, pulling back just enough to sink his teeth into the soft skin of your inner thigh in a possessive bite that makes you cry out. 

He looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes dark with absolute promise. “I’m gonna fuck all those royal manners and etiquette right out of you, love.”

Before the last word even leaves his lips, James dives right back in with relentless fury. He snaps his hands over your hips, pinning you so firmly to the mattress that you have no choice but to take the torment. Your fingers slip frantically from his hair, your nails clawing deeply into the bedsheets for purchase as he eats you out with a terrifying hunger.

His tongue plunges deep into your hole in long strokes—mimicking the exact, filthy motion of fucking you—while his thumb circles your swollen clit without a second of mercy. A broken sob rips from your throat as he drives you completely out of your mind, the wet, slapping sounds of his mouth against your core filling the room.

A few deep, agonizingly perfect laps of his tongue are all it takes to push you over the edge.

Your entire body coils tight, your vision going completely, blindingly white. Suddenly, a hot wave of fluid gushes out of you, soaking his mouth, chin, and jaw. Your back arches straight off the bed, your thighs twitching against his shoulders as you ride out your very first orgasm.

James doesn’t pull away for even a second. He keeps his grip tight on your trembling hips, letting you shake and sob through the climax, while his tongue greedily laps up every single drop of the sweet, hot fluid spilling over his face.

He slowly pulls his face away, leaving you gasping in the cool air, unhooking your legs from his shoulders, leaving you splayed out on the bed, sweating, chest heaving, your nipples tight. 

James looks at you like a man possessed. He sits back on his heels, then slides forward to pull your limp, shivering body right onto his lap.

You feel a pang of embarrassment as you realize the amount of wetness dripping from your core has left a dark patch right against his trousers, but your body is far too exhausted and weak to even attempt to pull away.

“James…” you breathe out, your voice trembling as you struggle to catch your breath. “… what did you just do to me?”

James lets out a breathless laugh—a sound rich with absolute triumph. His hands snake around your waist, gripping your bare hips and hauling you flush against his chest so there isn’t an inch of space left between you. He looks down at you, his amber eyes glittering with a dark, filthy satisfaction.

“Love…” he murmurs, his thumb tracing the curve of your flushed cheek as he watches you try to regain your composure. “Don’t tell me you’ve never come like that before?”

He pauses, taking in the raw, dazed look in your eyes, a wicked, teasing grin slowly spreading across his lips. “Wait… have you ever even touched yourself properly, Y/N?”

Before you can answer, his hands slide down to firmly cup your bare ass, squeezing hard and yanking your hips right up against his rock-hard erection. A sharp gasp escapes your lips, your hands instinctively clutching his broad shoulders for support.

You glare at him through hooded eyes, though your body twitches at the feeling of him pressed so hard against you.

“Of course I’ve touched myself, James,” you huff out softly, your voice still thick and shaky from the climax. “I’m not naive. But I’ve never… it’s never felt like that. Not even close.”

Hearing those words, James feels a surge of pure, unadulterated heat shoot straight to his groin. He has truly never been so turned on in his entire life. 

A dark, predatory grin slips onto his face, his grip tightening on your waist. “Yeah? When was the last time you touched yourself, love?”

You go completely quiet, the sheer embarrassment making you want to melt into the mattress. But under the demanding heat of his amber eyes, you can’t help but relent. “Before… before we left Astravel,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your thudding heart. “You… you were showering with the door open. And I saw you.”

James freezes. For a split second, his brain completely short-circuits. The mental image of you—his innocent, beautiful princess—watching him, and then taking your own hand to your sweet pussy while thinking of him… it is the single hottest thing he has ever heard. 

He can feel his cock twitch, thick drops of pre-cum leaking from the tip and soaking against his trousers.

“Fuck, baby,” James growls, his voice completely wrecked, sounding incredibly deep and desperate. “You were touching yourself to me?”

You nod frantically, completely desperate, all your royal dignity entirely forgotten. “James, please… I feel so empty. I want you.”

A dark, teasing spark flashes in his eyes, his breathing heavy. “You want my cock so bad, hm?”

At the raw, dirty word, your body reactively squirms against his lap, your inner walls clenching. “I want you to take my virginity,” you sob out, the confession bursting from your chest. “Not Caelum. You. Only you, James.”

Hearing his rival’s name, the thought of any other man ever touching you snaps the last thread of James’s control. “I will, baby. I will,” he vows hoarsely.

He stands up just long enough to shed his trousers, and your breath completely hitches. James is absolutely massive. His cock is thick, heavy, and already slick and dripping with his arousal. It looks impossibly big, a daunting sight for your body.

He climbs back over you, slotting himself between your thighs. “There’s no going back from this,” he murmurs, his voice trembling as he stares down at you. “Are you sure?”

You nod frantically.

“No. I need you to use your words,” he groans, the hot, thick length of his cock rutting heavily against your bare inner thigh as a tease. “Tell me what you want, love.”

You gasp at the contact of his hot steel against your skin. “Please, James… I want you to touch me. To make it feel better.”

“What else?” he whispers, his thumb stroking your cheek as his hips nudge closer.

Finally breaking and completely relenting, you sob, “I want you to fuck me. Please… I can take it!”

James smiles, a dark, incredibly tender expression. “Oh, I know you can, baby.”

When James begins to push into you, your breath hitches in your throat. He feels a lot thicker than you thought he would based on what you’d seen, but you’re not complaining as he slowly inches deeper and deeper into you. 

You feel so warm, feeling the way you’re connected between each other’s thighs, and it gets to your head as you feel yourself clenching tentatively around his cock. 

You find out that you’re full, filled to the absolute brim with James’s cock as he grins, running his fingers from your chest, all the way down to your navel, where there’s a small, visible bump from his sheer size stretching you out.

“Fuck— you see that?” he huffs, rubbing gently at the bump and making you let out a high-pitched whine. “Can you see my cock through yourself?.”

You feel him start to move, setting a slow, agonizingly beautiful pace for his thrusts to get your tight body accustomed to his size. Your moans are long and high-pitched, with your hands grasping at the sheets for purchase when James lifts your pelvis up by your thighs to get a better angle. 

It feels so good, his cock hitting all the right places inside you, pressing hard against your G-spot and rubbing against your tight walls, eliciting soft and sweet moans from your mouth as you hear his grunts with each thrust. 

It doesn’t take long for you to get used to the pace, trying to grind in tandem with his hips to increase the speed, deepen the thrust, anything to feel more of him.

James seems to have noticed, since he suddenly picks up the pace, rutting against you rougher, quicker, slamming his hips hard into you. You let out a mix of gasps and yelps as you throw your head back against the mattress. 

Your moans get louder and louder as James continues to thrust against you at a near punishing pace, hammering into the same spot that has pleasure shooting through each vein in your body, tingling from your neck down to your toes.

Panting, you look down at James, noticing how much broader and more muscular he is compared to your frame, in this moment. You know it’s a natural thing—he is a trained warrior with years of training—but you still can’t help but find the sight of his large, calloused hands completely spanning your bare thigh incredibly arousing, releasing another needy moan when you’re exposed to the sight.

“—Tight,” James groans as he continues thrusting into you, his head thrown back in pure pleasure, exposing the long, tensed column of his neck. “You’re so fucking tight, shit—”

The rhythmic, wet sloshing sound of James’s thick cock slamming into your tight walls fills the bedroom. He keeps thrusting, his hips driving relentlessly against yours, each slam sending a shockwave of electric heat straight to your core.

“You like how that feels, hm?” James pants, his voice raw and gravelly as he stares down at your flushed face. He pushes deep, bottoming out against your cervix. “Tell me how it feels, Y/N. Speak to me.”

“Feels… feels so good,” you sob out, your hands desperately clawing at his broad, sweating shoulders. “So full… Oh god, James, you’re so big…”

Your head feels like it’s turning to complete mush. You have never felt pleasure like this in your entire life. It’s overwhelming, completely consuming, but more than the physical sensation, it’s the aching connection to him that undoes you. 

You are completely open to James, stripped of all your royal titles, your duties, your fears. You are just a girl, utterly surrendered to the man who holds her heart.

James leans down, his body pressing you into the mattress as he rains hot, breathless kisses along your jaw, your neck, before his mouth slides down to your breasts. He sucks greedily on your nipples, swirling his warm tongue around them until you are thrashing beneath him, crying out.

Suddenly, his hand slides down between your grinding bodies, his calloused fingers finding your swollen, slick clit. He begins to rub it ruthlessly, synchronizing the fast, circular motion of his thumb with the driving rhythm of his hips.

The double stimulation is too much. You let out a high, ringing moan, your hips helplessly bucking up off the mattress as your inner walls clench around his length in a sudden, desperate vice.

“Ah! James—James, wait! It’s too much—!”

“Don’t you dare stop,” he rasps, burying himself to the absolute hilt.

He is leaking heavily inside you, his cock throbbing and tensing to near-bursting at the intense pressure of your heat. He hooks your leg higher over his hip, angling himself deeper, driving into that exact, sensitive spot until your brain goes completely dumb.

“Look—look at me,” James groans, his chest heaving hard against yours as his thumb grinds over your clit. “I want to watch you come around me.”

With a loud, broken cry, your entire body goes rigid. Your inner walls spasm violently, clamping down on his thick shaft in a series of intense, rhythmic pulses as a second, even more devastating climax rips through you.

James throws his head back, as he lets out a tortured grunt.

“Fuck… gods, Y/N, you feel so perfect, so good…” he chokes out, his hands bruising your hips as he thrusts blindly into you.

But even as your body shudders with the aftershocks of your orgasm, James doesn’t stop. His eyes are completely pitch-black, dark with a primal, addictive lust that refuses to be sated. 

He keeps thrusting through your climax, his cock milking your sensitive, pulsing walls, driving you back into a state of hysterical pleasure.

“Fuck, you can take more, right?” he growls hoarsely, his large hands gripping your waist to keep you from sliding up the bed. “You’re not done yet, are you? Look at you, your brain is completely gone. Have I made you completely dumb, love?”

You nod your head frantically against the pillow, your gaze glazed over and entirely vacant, your mind thoroughly melted by him. “Yes… yes, I can take it, James. Please, I can take it. Keep going.”

“Yeah, baby, you can,” he murmurs, a dark, incredibly pleased smirk stretching across his lips. “I know you can take it.”

With a sudden, wet slide, he pulls completely out of you. The sudden loss of his thickness makes you let out a desperate, protesting whine, your hips tilting back as if to chase him.

“Patience,” James commands.

He grabs your hips and effortlessly flips you over onto your hands and knees. Without him even needing to say a single word, your body instinctively relents. 

You collapse face-down against the soft mattress, your arms folded under your head, burying your face in the sheets while your hips stay arched high in the air, your bare ass pointed up, entirely exposed to him.

“James—please,” you whimper into the pillow, your brain entirely fried, unable to form a single coherent thought as your fingers twist into the sheets. “Please, James, don’t stop… I need it, I want more, please, please fuck me—”

James stands over you on the bed for a split second, and his breath completely catches. 

He honestly cannot believe the sight in front of him. Here, in the dim room, he has the literal Princess of Valenora—the girl who was once kept hidden behind walls—naked, face down, ass up on a mattress, whimpering his name and begging him to fuck her more.

“Fuck, listen to you,” James growls, a dark chuckle rumbling low in his chest as his eyes devour the sight of your slick, swollen center gleaming up at him. “You’ve gone completely dumb for me, haven’t you, Princess?”

He guides the slick, dripping head of his massive cock right back to your puckered entrance. With one relentless tilt of his pelvis, he drives himself all the way back inside you in a single, devastating stroke.

At this angle, he goes impossibly deep. You let out a muffled, high-pitched scream into the mattress, your fingers clawing desperately into the sheets as your inner walls stretch to their absolute limit to take every single inch of him.

“Ah! Gods—James, it’s too deep!”

“Is it?” James rasps, a dark, wicked smirk brushing against your ear as his hips begin a brutal pace, bottoming out with every single push. “Funny, because you were just begging for more a second ago. Does the Princess like getting split wide open on her hands and knees?”

He leans down farther, his chest crushing against your back as he hammers into you from behind, the wet slaps of his hips echoing against your bare thighs.

“Tell me…” James growls, his voice a gravelly, possessive rumble that vibrates right through you. “Does your betrothed touch you like this? Do you think Prince Caelum could ever make you scream like this?”

“No—ah!” you sob out, your head spinning out of control as he hits your sweet spot over and over again, driving you to the absolute brink of insanity.

“That’s what I thought,” he sneers, splaying one calloused hand flat against your lower belly to yank your hips back even harder into his relentless thrusts. “He doesn’t know what to do with a girl like you. He’d probably lose his damn mind if he saw how bad you’re begging your guard to fuck you right now.”

“James—please!” you cry out, completely unhinged, your body trembling around him.

“Say it,” James commands, his thumb reaching down between your legs to mercilessly grind against your swollen clit. “Tell me if you’re his… or mine.”

“Yours!” you shatter out, sobbing helplessly as your brain turns to complete ash. “Only yours, James! Only you!”

At the desperate confession slipping from your lips, James’s whole body freezes for a second, a deep, guttural sound ripping from his chest. Your words—giving him total, absolute ownership of your body—strike him like a physical blow. The tight, slick warmth of your virgin (not anymore) walls pulsing frantically around him pushes him completely over the edge.

“Shit, I’m gonna—fuck, I’m close, baby,” he gasps out, his voice entirely wrecked.

With a final, deeply desperate shove that buries him to the absolute hilt, James grips your hips with bruising force and pulls out of you just in time. He lets out a loud groan as he releases a hot torrent of his seed all over your flushed, twitching ass cheeks. 

At the exact same moment, the sudden release of his thickness combined with the intense, visual stimulation of him marking you triggers your own climax. Your inner muscles spasm in a desperate vacuum, and you let out a high-pitched, keening cry into the mattress, your vision going completely dark as you both ride out the absolute peaks of your highs.

The suffocating silence of the room returns, broken only by the sound of your ragged breathing. You slowly slump down onto the mattress, your limbs feeling like lead, completely and utterly exhausted. Every muscle in your body is trembling.

James collapses beside you, panting heavily as he rolls onto his side. He immediately pulls your limp, sweaty body against his chest, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your cheeks, and your shoulders.

“You did so good, love,” he whispers, his voice thick with a profound, tender awe. “So beautiful.”

You let out a weak chuckle, your face buried in the pillow. “I feel so sore,” you mumble, a sleepy smile tuging at your lips.

James lets out a deeply affectionate laugh, kissing the crown of your head. “I know, baby. I know. Stay right here. Don’t move.”

He carefully slides off the bed. You watch with heavy, half-closed lids as he walks over to the wardrobe, slipping on a pair of loose trousers. He returns with a warm, damp cloth, gently wiping away the sweat, the slickness, and the remnants of your shared passion from your skin with the utmost care, treating you like the most fragile, precious glass.

Once you are partially cleaned, he slides his arms under your knees and your back, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. 

You let out a surprised giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carries you across the chamber to the adjoining bath.

He sets you down gently on a plush stool while he turns on the brass taps of the grand porcelain tub, letting the water run to a perfectly steaming, hot temperature. When it’s full, he helps you step into the soothing depth. The hot water instantly wraps around your aching, sore muscles, making you let out a long, blissful sigh. James kneels by the edge of the tub, taking a sponge and gently bathing you.

He pauses, leaning forward to press a soft, sweet kiss directly to your wet forehead. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his amber eyes shining with a deep, quiet emotion. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

You lean your head against his broad shoulder, letting the steam rise around you. “I’d trust you with my life, James,” you say softly. “This isn’t any different.”

James lets out a bittersweet chuckle, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your wet arm. “I know. It’s just… it’s still a lot. The fact that you wanted me to be your first. It means more to me than I can ever put into words.”

You nod a little sadly, the inescapable shadow of your reality creeping back into the warm room. You look down at the swirling water. “If I could, James… if the world were different, I’d let you be my first everything. But…”

“I know,” James cuts you off gently, his fingers lifting your chin so you have to look at him. His expression is incredibly soft, completely devoid of bitterness. “I know, love. It’s enough for me. This—having this with you—is more than enough. I’m happy just being yours to have, whenever we can.”

You nod, a bittersweet ache blooming in your chest. Technically, you are an engaged woman. You are betrothed to Prince Caelum, bound by royal duty, politics, and a looming marriage that feels like an execution. By all accounts of law and society, there should be a simmering pot of guilt burning in your stomach for what you just did.

But as you look into James’s warm, devoted eyes, you realize you feel absolutely no guilt. None at all. 

For James, you would willingly risk it all. You would burn the kingdom to the ground if it meant keeping this. It doesn’t feel wrong to dream just a little longer before the harsh light of reality forces you to wake up.

You turn slightly in the water, nuzzling your face closer into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent. “I’m content, too,” you whisper against his skin. “Being yours to have… whenever we can.”

James makes no verbal reply to that. Instead, he simply squeezes your shoulder, his grip tight. 

He finishes washing you in a comforting silence, wrapping you in a warm, oversized towel before carrying you back to the bed, which he has quickly remade with fresh, clean sheets.

As you both settle beneath the blankets, tangling your legs together in the dark, a silent vow settles between you. 

The world you inhabit is a cruel, unyielding one, and perhaps Fate—or whatever gods govern your lives—is laughing at the tragic, impossible hand you’ve been dealt. But tonight, you decide that you will not let the cruelty of your circumstances steal what you have found in each other.

You will have each other. Whenever you can, wherever you can, snatching moments of paradise from the jaws of duty. Grateful for whatever crumbs of happiness the universe deigns to grant you both, you close your eyes. 

It is okay to dream a little longer, you think, right before sliding into a deep, dreamless sleep, securely locked in the safety of James’s arms.

a/n: welcome to the long rant, folks!!

okay, there is SO much i want to talk about in this chapter because i genuinely had the best time writing it. more than anything, i wanted this chapter to slow down and simply let james and princess exist together. for so much of this story they've been interrupted at every possible turn—whether by duty, politics, another person walking in at the worst possible moment, or simply their own fear of acknowledging what they're feeling. i really wanted this chapter to remove those constant interruptions and allow all of that tension that's been building for over two hundred thousand words to finally have room to exist.

before we get to that though... Queen Dorcas 🤭🤭

that woman is genuinely one of my favourite characters to write because she's so incredibly observant while pretending she isn't. after catching them kissing two chapters ago, she very conveniently decides to give them a room with one bed AND a drawer filled with condoms. coincidence? absolutely not!!! she knows exactly what's going on, but she's also wise enough to understand that some relationships can't be pushed forward. all she can really do is remove a few obstacles and then step back to let them figure the rest out themselves.

one of my favourite parts of the chapter, however, is actually the agreement princess proposes to James about taking her virginity. not because of the agreement itself, but because of james's response to it. i never wanted him to immediately say yes simply because he loves her. as much as a part of him desperately wants what she's offering him, another part is terrified of what that could cost them.

from his perspective, they're still living under impossible circumstances. he knows how deeply he's already fallen for her, and he understands that crossing another emotional boundary only makes the inevitable goodbye hurt even more.

that's why i loved writing his hesitation. he doesn't reject her because he doesn't want her; he hesitates because he wants her so much that he's scared of what happens afterwards.

instead of making the decision for her, he gives it back to her. he tells her to think about it, to take her time, and to only come to him once she's absolutely certain. for me, that says so much more about james than any grand romantic declaration ever could. he's spent this entire story putting her autonomy above his own desires, and i wanted that to remain true here as well. he would rather wait than risk her making a decision she's unsure about.

we truly do love a consent king around here 👑🥳 James Potter...the man you are

now... STALYAN!!!

i've genuinely been waiting forever to introduce her. for anyone who's watched Tangled: The Series, yes, she absolutely takes inspiration from stalyan, and i couldn't resist borrowing that dynamic because i found it so interesting.

more importantly though, i wanted james to have a past.

i think sometimes in romance stories we meet the love interest exactly where the story begins, as though they simply materialised into existence waiting for the protagonist. but people don't work like that. james is twenty-one years old. of course he's loved before. of course he's dated. of course he's had relationships that simply didn't work out.

and i think that's what makes this conversation so important. stalyan isn't written to be jealous, manipulative, or someone readers are supposed to hate. if anything, i wanted people to sympathise with her. she genuinely cared for james, and what she offers him isn't unreasonable. in fact... it's almost impossible to refuse.

she offers him exactly the life he once dreamed about: a prestigious position, financial security, recognition, a thriving city full of opportunity, and everything young james thought success looked like.

there's a reason i spent so much time describing the offer rather than rushing past it. i wanted readers to understand that this wasn't some empty temptation. if this conversation had happened earlier, james probably would've accepted before she even finished speaking. that's how perfectly the offer aligns with the person he used to be!!!

which is exactly why his refusal matters so much. he doesn't turn it down because it's a bad opportunity, but because somewhere along the journey, his definition of happiness changed !!! months ago, james believed purpose came from titles, promotions, and proving himself worthy through work. now, he realises none of those things matter nearly as much as the person waiting for him inside the castle.

that's probably one of the biggest moments of character growth he's had in the entire series. and i also wanted to give stalyan the dignity she deserves. she accepts his answer with grace because love doesn't always end with anger. sometimes it ends with accepting that someone has become a different person than the one you once knew. i honestly think there's something incredibly bittersweet and mature about that. NO STALYAN HATE WILL BE TOLERATED HERE !!! I love her <3

because sometimes closure isn't getting someone back, instead it is simply being able to wish them happiness, even if that happiness isn't with you.

i've always loved that idea, and honestly... watching james confidently say, "yeah... i'm in love with her," without trying to hide it anymore made me ridiculously emotional while writing. he's finally stopped pretending 🥹🥹

and that's pretty much it for the actual plot of this chapter!! the rest... well, it's just pure, filthy smut... i'll preserve what's left of my dignity and let the chapter speak for itself ;)

after all this time, these two have finally stopped dancing around their feelings, and i had way too much fun writing the payoff after such an absurdly long slow burn. if nothing else, i hope it was worth the wait!

that's all from me this time around! i really hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and as always, i'd absolutely love to hear your thoughts, favourite moments, and theories because reading your comments genuinely makes my entire day. i can't even put into words how grateful i am for every single person who takes the time to read, leave a comment, send an ask, or simply scream with me over these characters.

until next time, stay safe, stay happy, stay healthy, and don't forget to stay hydrated.

love you all endlessly <333

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