"In private?" Alistair's brows shot up in surprise, his sharp features momentarily softening in disbelief. I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. He ran a hand through his hair, the flicker of concern in his eyes betraying his composed demeanor.
"A man and a woman alone in a room. Let alone unmarried. That's hardly appropriate, Your Highness."
"Call me Karina," I blurted, the words spilling from my lips before I could stop them.
He stilled, caught off guard. A faint, almost reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it quickly faded. "I'm sorry, but I can't call you by your first name, Your Highness." His voice was softer now, the usual edge dulled by something unspoken. His gaze swept the area as if searching for unseen dangers. "Who are you with?"
"A guard," I replied lied. I didn't want to involve Vincent. I know he is around, but I cannot drag him any further than this. "Please, Your Grace, I need to speak with you."
Alistair exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face as if trying to scrub away his hesitation. "Haa… How did you even managed to find me here?"
"Walls talk. The sky sees." I replied.
He looked at me as if he did not expect me to respond. Straightening, he adjusted my hood carefully, his fingertips lightly brushing my hair. His tone turned serious. "Keep your head down when we go in. And whatever happens, do not remove your hood unless I say so. Understood?"
Before I could answer, he took my hand. His grip was firm, yet surprisingly gentle—as if holding my hand was the most natural thing in the world. A spark shot through me at the contact, and I gasped softly, caught off guard. Without waiting, Alistair led me forward with a deliberate urgency, his movements steady and assured.
"Just keep your head low," he murmured, his breath brushing against my ear like a phantom's touch. A shiver raced down my spine, but I obeyed, lowering my gaze and following his lead.
Alistair opened the door, and the noise of raucous laughter spilled out, accompanied by the smell of strong liquor and the sharp clink of glasses. The air in the inn was thick with drunken revelry, and I couldn't help but gag at the sharp scent of booze that filled my nose. We moved through the crowd with an urgency that only heightened my nervousness. Every instinct in me screamed to remain unseen, to stay hidden. I prayed that no one would recognize me.
"Hey, Ali! Who's that with you?"
I flinched, panic gripping me like icy chains. The speaker was a hulking man, his bulky frame swaying with the unsteadiness of too much drink. His words slurred, his curiosity sharp despite his inebriation.
"No one," Alistair replied coolly, though I detected the faintest edge of unease in his voice. His pace quickened, and I followed, but the scrape of a chair across the wooden floor froze me in my tracks.
"Don't you turn your back on me when I'm talking to you, boy!" the man bellowed, his voice cutting through the revelry like a blade. A loud crash followed—glass shattering against wood. The room fell eerily quiet, all eyes turning toward the disturbance.
I froze, my blood running cold. This is it. We're caught.
"Judd, enough." Alistair's voice was calm, but the underlying menace was unmistakable. I risked a glance from beneath my hood, seeing only his back—a shield between me and the approaching threat.
I can hear the burly man staggered toward us, his heavy steps resonating with drunken determination. But Alistair didn't move, his posture unwavering.
"I have something urgent to attend to," Alistair said, his tone sharp and commanding. "I don't have time for this."
I heard several sheathing of something sharp. I peeked behind Allistair and saw that the man hesitated, glaring at Alistair as though weighing his options. Alistair's presence, however understated, radiated authority. Judd grumbled something incoherent and slumped back into his chair, the tension in the room dissipating.
"Come on," Alistair muttered, his hand tightening around mine as he led me up the stairs. My legs felt weak, but I forced myself to keep moving.
Whatever this was, it couldn't be in vain. This is for Syrindall. I should be afraid.
---
The room was sparse, almost bare, with only a bed, a table and stool, and a large mirror resting against the wall. The moonlight spilled through the wide window, bathing the room in a cool silver glow. Beyond the glass, the marketplace was alive with faint sounds of revelry—a stark contrast to the stillness within.
Below, I caught sight of the burly man—Judd, if I recalled correctly—being dragged out of the streets by two other men, his drunken protests drowned out by laughter.
Is this the life outside the castle halls? The thought came unbidden, tinged with a quiet melancholy. A faint smile tugged at my lips as I gazed down at the lively scene. These people, full of joy and struggle, deserved so much more. If only I had protected them better in the past...
The sharp click of the lock startled me, and I spun around.
"I didn't realize you'd be this jumpy, Your Highness," Alistair remarked, amusement flickering in his tone. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with an ease that spoke of familiarity. Removing his gloves, he tossed them carelessly onto the table, his movements unhurried.
My eyes found him almost instinctively, and for a moment, it felt as though time itself faltered. He hadn't changed—at least not in the ways that mattered. His dark hair was shorter now, a bit rougher around the edges, but it suited him. Those piercing blue eyes, still the color of the deepest ocean, held the same intensity that had always unnerved and mesmerized me. His broad shoulders, once my shelter, now seemed heavier, burdened with untold stories. And his tanned skin—how many times had I traced it in the past, memorizing the warmth beneath my fingertips?
"You've been staring at me for quite some time now, Your Highness."
His voice broke the spell, and I felt my cheeks ignite. Heat rushed to my face so quickly it made my head spin. How could I be so careless, so obvious? I tore my gaze away, turning toward the window to hide my burning embarrassment.
"I… apologize for gawking—staring at you," I stammered, cursing the way my voice cracked. Why did I feel so unmoored around him? So unsteady?
He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down my spine.
"There's no need to apologize." His tone was warm now, almost teasing. "Though I must admit, it's refreshing seeing you flustered."
I dared a glance back at him, only to find his gaze fixed on me, sharp yet unreadable. His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, one that seemed to hold a thousand unspoken memories.
"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice steady despite the growing unease in my chest.
Alistair sighed, the sound heavy with something unspoken, and turned his gaze toward the window. The moonlight carved shadows across his face, masking the expression I couldn't quite read.
"It's just that..." he began, his tone light, almost too casual. "A princess like you should always be proper, shouldn't she?"
There was a faint smirk on his lips, the kind that usually came with his dry humor. But this time, it didn't quite reach his eyes. He was hiding something—his words a flimsy shield to deflect whatever storm brewed beneath the surface
"Stop teasing me," I muttered, more to myself than to him, but the words only made his smile widen.
This was the Alistair I remembered. The man who could disarm me with a glance, whose presence felt like both a challenge and a comfort. But this was no longer the past, this is now my present.
He took a step closer, and my breath hitched. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in, the faint sounds of the marketplace below fading into nothing. He removed my hood, and as soon as he does, his eyes bore into me as if... he's longing for me.
"Karina," he said softly, the title of "Your Highness" discarded like his gloves. His voice was lower now, more intimate. It wrapped around me like a tether, pulling me toward him. "What are you doing here?"
"How did you know I'm the princess?" The question tumbled from my lips before I could stop it.
Alistair froze, his expression flickering with something unguarded—surprise, perhaps even unease. For a moment, he looked almost pale, his usual composure slipping. But then, as quickly as it came, the moment passed. He exhaled a soft chuckle and walked toward the stool, sinking into it with a practiced nonchalance.
Leaning back slightly, he looked at me with those same teasing, yet infuriatingly warm eyes. "How could I not?" he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
He gestured lazily toward my hair. "Ashen hair," he said, as though the answer was obvious. "The only trait unique to Syrindall's royal family, is it not? Unless, of course, there's a sudden trend for dyeing one's hair the color of moonlight."
I blinked, my hand instinctively brushing a strand of hair away from my face. His words carried the usual air of humor, but something deeper lingered beneath his tone—something that made me feel both seen and disarmed.
"I-Is that all?" I asked, arching a brow, trying to regain some footing in the conversation.
He tilted his head, studying me with an almost unsettling intensity. "Not quite," he admitted, his voice softening. "There's something else. The way you hold yourself... It's not just anyone who walks into a room like they've got the weight of a kingdom on their shoulders."
His words hung in the air, and for a moment, I couldn't tell if he was mocking me or simply stating the truth. Perhaps it was both.
"And yet," he added, leaning forward, his gaze locking onto mine, "you also carry something no one else does—a defiance, like you're daring the world to tell you what you can't do. That's what gave you away, Karina. Not just your hair."
His use of my name—stripped of the title—sent a strange flutter through me. I looked away, unsure if it was embarrassment or something else entirely that made my cheeks burn.
I must not stray from my goal, I reminded myself firmly, forcing my restless hands to occupy themselves by twisting a strand of my ashen hair. The repetitive motion grounded me, keeping my racing thoughts at bay.
Alistair cleared his throat, the sound sharp in the silence. My eyes darted to him warily. Just moments ago, his gaze had been soft, almost tender, but now it was like staring into a storm—dangerous, unyielding.
"What brings you here, Princess?" His tone was low, quiet, but it cut through the room like the edge of a blade. A shiver ran down my spine, sharp and cold, as his eyes locked onto mine with a ferocity I had only seen once before—on that day, when my dignity was stripped before a sea of judgmental eyes. "You walked into a lion's den without a single guard to protect you." His voice hardened, his words deliberate, almost mocking. "Are you not afraid?"
Ah, so this is how it would be. The warmth I thought I'd glimpsed moments ago was nothing more than an illusion. He was still my enemy—the man who had haunted Syrindall, the one whose name alone sent shivers of fear through the halls of my kingdom. I straightened my spine, a flicker of determination igniting in my chest. I hadn't come here to falter under his scrutiny.
"No," I answered, my voice steady, unwavering. My gaze locked onto his, and for a moment, the air between us felt electric, charged with unspoken tension. "I am not scared."
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. I didn't break eye contact, even as his expression darkened, his sharp blue eyes searching mine for cracks, for weakness. But he would find none—not tonight.
"Then... what brings you here?" he asked again, his voice quieter but sharper, each word slicing through the tense air. His eyes, darker than before, seemed to bore into me, as if he could see straight through my resolve.
"An offer," I replied immediately, my voice firmer than I felt.
His eyebrows arched, the faintest glimmer of surprise flickering across his face. "An offer?" he echoed, leaning forward slightly, the weight of his curiosity pressing against me. "For what, exactly?"
I swallowed hard, my hands wringing together despite my efforts to appear composed. "I know why you're here in Syrindall," I said, my voice low but steady. It was a gamble to say it out loud, to acknowledge the truth we both knew but hadn't yet spoken.
His expression shifted, the brief flicker of curiosity giving way to something colder, sharper. The corner of his mouth tilted into a humorless smile, but his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—never left mine.
"Do you now?" he asked, his tone laced with both amusement and suspicion. "Then by all means, enlighten me, Princess. Why do you think I'm here?"
My breath caught in my throat as his question hung in the air, daring me to answer, to reveal just how much I knew—and how much I was willing to risk.