Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
I woke to the rhythm of Zander’s breath against the back of my neck, his arm still draped lazily over my waist. The lamp light filtered in through a narrow crack in the stone wall, golden and warm, casting soft shadows across the bed.
For the first time in what felt like forever, there was no urgency tugging us out of sleep. Just the delicious realization that we were tangled together, limbs knotted and hearts steadied. His fingers grazed over my hip beneath the sheet, slow and teasing, and I shifted to face him.
“You always wake up this smug?” I asked, voice still heavy with sleep.
He grinned, eyes bright despite the shadows under them. “Only when I’ve had the privilege of keeping you warm all night.”
“You mean when I kept you warm,” I shot back, dragging my hand across his bare chest. “Your feet are ice.”
He laughed, the sound deep and husky. Then rolled over, pinning me with his weight. “Then I guess I owe you… again.”
We didn’t rush. We didn’t need to. And when we finally made love again, it was softer than the night before. A different kind of hunger. Less desperation, more reverence. Like we were memorizing each other in case the world ripped us apart again.
Eventually, we dressed and shared the cold bread and fruit Solei had left the day before, sitting cross-legged on the bed like we weren’t fugitives on the run. Zander’s hair was a mess, his shirt half-tucked, and he kept stealing pieces of fruit from my plate when he thought I wasn’t looking.
“You’re a menace,” I muttered, slapping his hand away for the third time.
He just winked. “I’m charming.”
I was about to retort when the hidden shelf scraped open behind us. My spine stiffened, but Zander was already half-standing, hand near the dagger he kept under the bed.
Solei’s head popped through the gap. “Theron’s people scoured the village last night. He’s already met with Cyran and confirmed you’re not staying with us.”
“Where to next?” I asked, already brushing crumbs from my lap.
“We’re going to have the prince blend in,” she said, her smirk barely concealed as she tossed Zander a bundle of worn clothes. “Everyone knows you.”
Zander caught the bundle and eyed it with suspicion. “Please tell me these don’t smell like goat.”
“They smell like freedom. Change. I’ll wait out here.”
He grumbled but stripped out of his nicer tunic, anyway, pulling on the rough-spun one she’d handed over. The pants were slightly too short and hung loose on his hips. I stepped close, wiping a smudge of dust from his collar before dragging a bit of dirt across his forehead and upper arms.
He arched a brow. “What was that for?”
I grinned. “Now you’re a commoner.”
He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “And you’re the outlaw who smeared filth on royalty. Should I arrest you?”
I bumped his hip with mine. “Try it, and I’ll make sure you look like you rolled in pig shit.”
He laughed again, shaking his head as he grabbed his boots. “Charming and terrifying. Gods help me.”
We slipped out the hidden door just as the first light of dawn brushed the edge of the horizon.
Solei led us out the back of the inn just as the first stirrings of the village morning began.
The streets were still slick from last night’s rain, puddles glinting in the early light.
She walked ahead with purpose, her hood up and shoulders squared, giving us only a glance now and then to make sure we were keeping pace.
Zander walked beside me, his posture slightly slouched, his new clothes hanging a little too loosely on his frame.
Nobody looked twice at him. Without the polished boots, the ornate jacket, or the air of command he usually carried, he could’ve passed for a tired laborer or traveling merchant. It worked.
Me, though… people noticed. Eyes caught on my face, then slid to my hair. I’d forgotten the damn hat.
“Keep moving,” Solei murmured over her shoulder. “They won’t stop you. You’re a story now, nobody expects you to walk past them in daylight.”
She wasn’t wrong. Everyone in town had heard of Cyran’s white-haired daughter. I just wasn’t used to the stares anymore.
We took a narrow alley that twisted between two butcher shops and emerged at the back entrance of the Rusty Tankard.
It was quieter this early, the tavern not yet full of shouting voices and spilled drink.
Instead of weaving through the crowded tables toward the concealed door that led to the tunnels, Solei surprised us by sliding into a corner booth near the bar.
Zander and I sat across from her, and before either of us could ask why we weren’t moving faster, the barmaid appeared. She gave us each a subtle nod and placed two tankards of ale in front of us.
I blinked. “A little early, isn’t it?”
Solei didn’t answer, and I figured that was the answer.
I took a sip. It was bitter, earthy, and stronger than I expected. Not exactly to my taste, but it settled the nerves curling in my gut. Zander raised his tankard too, eyeing the dark liquid. He took a long sip, then paused, just for a beat, before setting it down.
He didn’t comment on the taste, but I caught the slight grimace that flickered over his face. No doubt he was used to smoother vintages, something aged in a private cellar and served in crystal. Still, he didn’t complain.
“That bad?” I murmured under my breath.
His mouth twitched into a wry smile. “Let’s just say... it’s unique.”
“Welcome to commoner life, Your Highness.”
He leaned in slightly, voice low. “You make it look a hell of a lot better than it feels.”
I smirked, took another sip, and let the warmth settle in my chest while the Rusty Tankard came to life around us.
Solei leaned forward, eyes scanning the tavern as if mapping every exit, every threat. Then she pushed back from the table, her voice steady. “Stay here. I have to meet a messenger inside the palace.”
The barmaid passed by just then, dropping a worn but clean hat on the table in front of me without saying a word before moving on to serve another group. I picked it up and turned it in my hands before tugging it over my hair.
Solei gave me a look of approval, then nodded at both of us. “Stay here unless you sense trouble. You can head down to your room, if needed.”
“Your room?” Zander asked once she was gone.
I didn’t look at him as I answered. “The tunnels. That’s where I was living before I was sold to the crown.”
“You weren’t sold. You were—”
“When you pay money for anything, including a person, that’s a sale,” I cut in, voice flat.
Zander went quiet for a moment, then tapped his tankard lightly against the table. “I want to say I’m sorry. But if you weren’t… sold to the crown, I would never have met you.”
“True.” I sighed and leaned back. “I rarely left this part of the city. Only when I was with Cyran. My hair made me too easy to spot.”
He glanced at the brim of the hat, now casting a shadow across my face. “Not anymore.”
“No. Not anymore.” I took another sip of the ale and stared at the woodgrain of the table, listening to the muted hum of morning voices rising around us.
The tavern door creaked open, letting in a burst of cool morning air and a young woman with ink-stained fingers and a satchel slung across her chest. Her dark curls bounced with each step, and her freckled face lit up the moment she spotted me.
She was shorter than I remembered, or maybe I had just seen too much war to believe anything could be so small and untouched.
“Ashe, where have you been?”
I stood as she approached, caught off guard by the familiar warmth in her voice. “It’s good to see you, Maelin. I’m sure you heard that I’ve been working for the guild.”
She nodded, her expression softening into something close to pity. “I did. I’m sorry. But if you are back, I have several new books at the store. You’d love them.”
“I’ll pick them up soon,” I said with a small smile, surprised at how easily the words came.
Maelin’s eyes whipped to Zander, who was still seated, his posture relaxed but watchful.
“Who’s your friend?”
“This is Lockem,” I said smoothly, not missing the way Zander’s brow twitched. “Cyran hired him to protect me.”
Maelin gave a polite nod, her interest fading the moment she turned back to me. “I’ve missed seeing you.”
She had always been a sweet, bright-eyed girl, eager to share her latest literary find.
Cyran had warned me once that friendships were dangerous distractions, liabilities that could be used against you.
And yet, I had done so much more than befriend my squadmates.
I had bled, burned, and bonded in ways no book-loving girl could understand.
“I’ve missed you too,” I said, and I meant it.
Maelin beamed, then tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Come by soon, alright? I saved you the first edition of The Hollow Crown.”
“I will.” I watched her go, a piece of my past trailing behind her like sunlight through smoke.
Zander tilted his head toward me as Maelin disappeared out the tavern door. “So… what kind of book is The Hollow Crown?”
I took another sip of ale, trying not to grin. “It’s about a commoner who becomes queen.”
His eyebrows wiggled, playful. “Sounds interesting. I wonder if the character in that book would settle for being a princess?”
I grunted. “Don’t get any ideas.”
But my heart gave a tiny, traitorous flip. Was he actually suggesting…? That he wanted me for life? That he’d turn his back on his royal title for me?
I cleared my throat. “If Theron knows you’re not King Emlem’s true son, then you might have issues retaining your own title.”
“Not really,” he said, tapping a finger on the side of his tankard. “My mother was the queen. Emlem authorized my birth. There were accords made with the full fae. Our bloodlines were created so we could wield magic. And there’s a reason Cyran said I’m more noble than I realize.”
“You know what he meant?”
“Yes.” He met my eyes steadily. “The fae that took human partners? They were considered royalty. They all had titles. I don’t know what Alahathrial’s was, but it doesn’t matter. Being half-fae has more prestige than being a prince, at least according to the accords.”
I stared at him, thoughts swirling. “Wait… are you saying—”
“That you are also a noble.”
“I know.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Alahathrial said my mother was a princess.”
He leaned forward. “Why didn’t you mention that?”
I shrugged. “I don’t want to be a princess.”
His smile came slow and warm, curling at the corners of his mouth like it held a thousand thoughts behind it. “What would it take to change your mind?”