4. 3 #2
“Gods, no,” Mabel scoffed but quickly bit her tongue. “Apologies, I …” She took a deep breath. “No. They didn’t. After my father took the throne, he said it was too risky to allow me into the city. And princesses don’t speak with common folk.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“You never snuck out?” Theodore tilted his head, a brow lifting. “Not even once?”
Mabel stilled. Glimpses of running, thick woods, and her father all flashed through her mind. “No,” she said quietly.
His gaze brushed over her. He took note of the far off look in her eyes, the way her fingers picked at the skin around her nails. He watched as she shook her head ever so subtly before a smile replaced her features.
“I’m assuming you have?” She teased.
His hands found hers, giving a gentle squeeze. “Of course I have,” he laughed softly. “I’m a prince, Mabel. It comes with the title.”
“As many things do, it seems.” She crinkled her nose, fingers lacing through his. “It appears the only thing that comes with the title of Princess is a marriage.”
“And a kingdom.” Theodore leaned in closer. “Freedom. Power.” His breath fanned across her cheeks, mint filling her senses.
“I don’t care for power,” she whispered. “Though freedom does sound nice.” Her eyes traced over his features, studying the outline out his beard, the sharp angles of his nose.
She knew her freedom would never come within these walls, that this marriage would only further her entrapment to her father.
And now to Theodore. But there was something about the way he looked at her that made her forget herself.
Forget the nuance of their arrangement. His gaze was constant, almost unbearable as he watched her every move.
“What did you do all day locked in a castle?” His silvery blue eyes met hers.
She swallowed, dropping her gaze to the remnants of her breakfast. “I embroidered, read a little too much, and endured a constant stream of tutors and etiquette instructors.” She let out a dry laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“It’s all been a long, tedious attempt to mold me into someone perfect for …
well”—she glanced up at him with a hint of irony in her smile—“you.”
Theodore’s gaze lingered, unreadable for a moment. Then something flickered behind it—guilt. Maybe admiration.
“There’s no such thing as perfect. Though you do come close.” His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Not because of any lessons or torment, but because you simply are.”
The words slipped past his lips like a balm, gentle and unassuming, but they landed with more force than he could have known. Mabel’s chest tightened, and something deep inside her began to loosen—like a string that had been pulled taut for far too long finally easing.
She looked down quickly, blinking faster than necessary. She could cry. She really could.
But instead, she held it in, pressing her fingers lightly to the rim of her cup and drawing in a breath that trembled ever so slightly. A tear wouldn’t help anything. Not now. And certainly not in front of him.
She smiled instead—small, but real. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Theodore’s voice dipped low, like a secret shared just between them. “Of course,” he said, the words laced with understanding. “I know the pressure, the expectations … what our world demands of us.”
His gaze lingered on her, resting on the curve of her cheek, the unsteadiness in her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean joy must be a stranger. We are going to change that.”
He stood, the chair groaning against the stone floor, and moved toward her with the same ease she still hadn’t grown used to. With a faint smile tugging at his lips, he extended his hand toward hers, palm open and warm.
“Come,” he said, not as a command but an invitation. “Unless you would rather read.”
Mabel’s smile bloomed, bright and unwavering, as she slipped her hand into his. She rose with effortless grace, drawn to him like the tide to the moon. Theodore didn’t wait—he pulled her in close, their bodies inches apart, his gaze locked onto hers with heat that stole the breath from her lungs.
Her heart stuttered. His eyes were dark and sparkling, brimming with mischief and something more primal beneath.
She leaned in, anticipation curling in her chest—
But he was already moving, stepping back with maddening charm. The breath she meant to release caught as laughter danced in his eyes. Mabel barely had a moment to process the tease before Theodore whisked her from the hall, hand in his, the remnants of breakfast forgotten.
The candles flickered in their wake as their laughter echoed once more, spilling through stone corridors.
Theodore didn’t slow as he led her through the corridors. Mabel clutched his hand, half breathless, half laughing as he turned corners without a word of explanation.
The sky stretched wide and solemn above them, blanketed in soft gray that promised it would snow soon. As they stepped into the open air, the chill wrapped around Mabel, sharp and invigorating. She drew a deep breath, the cold biting at her lungs, anchoring her to the moment.
Frost clung to the edges of the stone archway behind them, and the breeze tugged playfully at her curls. Whatever warmth the morning had held within the castle was left behind in flickering candles and half-finished smiles. Out here, the world felt honest.
Theodore descended the palace steps with effortless confidence, his cloak trailing behind him. At the foot of the stairs, a carriage awaited—its polished gold frame dusted with frost, horses stomping softly in the cold.
Mabel hesitated at the top, the chill biting through her wool as doubt stirred beneath her ribs. “Wait—we’re leaving the castle?”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but it stopped him.
He turned, studying her from several steps below. The flicker in her eyes didn’t escape him, and with slow precision, he climbed back toward her. The playful smirk was gone, replaced by something deeper.
“Hey,” he said, his voice quiet against the wind. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it with an easy tenderness. “You’re with me now. You’re safe.”
Mabel opened her mouth, faltering. “My parents—”
But Theodore was already reaching for her, his hand rising with certainty to cradle her cheek. The warmth of his palm startled her just enough to make her flinch.
Then, without meaning to, she leaned into it.
The tension in her shoulders unraveled, drawn out by the steadiness in his gaze. There was no demand in his touch. No expectation. Just presence.
She wasn’t used to this kind of affection—gentle, unspoken, offered without consequence.
But Theodore had found a way to reach her. And so far, she hadn’t wanted to pull away.
“Are you coming or not?” he asked, his tone lighter now, but the care still lingered in the air between them.
Mabel’s lashes fluttered shut as she drew in a slow breath, letting the chill settle deep in her chest before nodding.
Theodore was already moving, tugging gently at her hand as he began his descent. Her feet followed, hesitant at first, then surer with each step.
Frost crunched softly beneath them as they neared the waiting carriage, its dark frame gleaming faintly in the morning light. The driver stood stiffly beside it, brows lifting at the sight of them.
Without missing a beat, Theodore offered his signature grin—bright, disarming, and just shy of arrogant. “I appreciate this, Mack,” he said smoothly, his voice cutting through the frosted air with familiar charm.
The driver gave a subtle nod, opening the door with a creak as Mabel stepped closer, her hand still tucked in Theodore’s.
The carriage rocked gently as Mabel climbed inside, Theodore steadying her with an easy hand before settling in across from her. The space was tight—elegant with detailing, but intimate enough that their knees brushed with every bump in the cobblestone.
“I would’ve requested the larger one,” Theodore said with a playful shrug, “but I’ve exhausted my charm on Mack for the week.”
His chuckle filled the small compartment, and Mabel found herself smiling. The flutter in her chest hadn’t disappeared, but it softened under the weight of his presence.
“This one’s perfect,” she whispered, settling her hands in her lap. Her fingers busied themselves before she noticed—picking absently at the skin near her nails, worry worn into muscle memory.
Theodore’s eyes flicked down, catching the motion again. His smile turned gentle. “Do you do that when you’re nervous?”
Mabel stilled, cheeks warming. She tucked her hands away, gaze dipping. “Yes. I’m sorry. It’s not exactly … poised.”
“Poised is overrated,” he replied easily, lifting his hand between them. “I bite my nails. Bad habit. Still haven’t outgrown it.”
She looked up, hesitant, then reached for his hand with slow curiosity, her fingers brushing over the rough edges of his nails. Her eyes met his, wide with surprise. It was such a human thing, such a shared vulnerability in a world that demanded perfection from both of them.
Theodore’s fingers curled slowly around hers, enclosing her hand in steady warmth. No flourish, no dramatics, just reassurance.
Mabel gazed out the carriage window, watching as they passed the castle gates and Aurevyn stirred to life beneath the pale morning light. Merchants opened their stalls. Children darted between cobblestones, laughter trailing behind them like ribbons.
“Everyone here is so … happy,” she said, her eyes catching on a pair of siblings tumbling at their parents’ feet. “How do you do it?”
Beside her, Theodore tilted his head. “Are you asking for a history lesson on our first outing together?”
She glanced at him, then away just as quickly, a shy smile lifting the corner of her lips. “Would it be strange if I was?”
He studied her for a moment, intrigue flickering behind his eyes as he considered his answer. “Not at all.”
Relief softened her shoulders. “Good,” she said, exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Because I really do want to know.”