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“Let go of me!”
A sweaty palm engulfs Kanae’s thin wrist, strong enough to keep her from wrenching her arm out. Just her luck. First she woke up with an absolute nest of hair, then her parents tell her she’s been betrothed to the princess of an eastern kingdom for an ‘alliance’ , and now some guy is grappling her in the marketplace like some sort of karmic intervention for escaping the palace?
It’s absolutely ludicrous!
“Real pretty,” the man sings, hoisting Kanae’s body up by her arm and inspecting the jade bracelet encircling her pale skin.
Her dignity keeps her from thrashing; she tries her best not to panic when she feels her feet leave the ground. “I said let go!” Her screaming attracts no attention other than passing gazes, all too self-absorbed to look twice.
“Quit screechin’, would ya?” The man leans down and scowls, his breath wafting filth into Kanae’s nostrils. “Just a girlie,” he hums, “but you’ll do.” She turns her face into the hood of the cape she wears, willing herself not to gag as the man draws closer, closer—
“Hey!”
With her eyes squeezed shut, Kanae almost misses the blur of a person striking the man’s stomach with their boot — it sends him flying and, thankfully, rips his hand off of Kanae’s arm. As she falls to the pavement and lets the blood rush back into her hand, Kanae blinks up at the so-called blur.
They’re smiling at her, offering a gloved hand to help her back onto her feet. For someone having just kicked a man a few good feet away, they look awfully cheerful. “Are you alright, priye?”
Refusing their hand, Kanae gets back onto her feet with honourable grace, tucking a stray lock of black hair behind her ear. “And who are you supposed to be?”
“Why,” the stranger laughs, “your Prince Charming, of course.”
Kanae runs her gaze across their body, eyes narrowing with every inch. The long black cape is what she first notices — or, rather, the sheer amount of dirt on it. It’s almost appalling; like they haven’t seen a single source of water in years. Then the head of atrociously unruly brown curls, coils flying about as they please. Kanae wonders, faintly, if the civilians own hairbrushes. Or shears, for that matter. “Not much of one.”
The stranger lays a hand on their chest, bronzed face contorting into a charming pout. “Ah. You wound me.”
“You little brat!” They both turn at the cry — at the man from before, clutching at his stomach as he glares at them with blazing fury in grey eyes.
Bizarrely, the stranger’s face lights up with a laugh. They turn on their heel, bright face whipping back to grin at Kanae with another open hand. “Up for an adventure, priye?”
Kanae’s never been a spontaneous person. But she takes one look at the person in front of her, with a dashing smile and an inviting hand — and decides to leave her royal dignity with the market stalls. She takes their hand. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The stranger grins.
And they run.
By the time their fleeing dies down into light steps, they’re safely tucked away in an alley behind a bar of sorts, with a significant lack of a pursuer on their heels. Kanae is panting puffs of steam into the air, cursing the departure of adrenaline, as her newfound companion twirls around on the pavement with childlike laughter.
“Ahh…” They pull off their cape to dust it in the air, revealing a long — almost dress-like — black tunic, with beautiful gold details. With large slits along its sleeves and legs, and wispy black pants underneath, Kanae recognises the design as Eastern. Perhaps the marketplaces exchange even clothes from overseas, then, on top of food. She wouldn’t know. “I haven’t had that much fun in months.”
With her head pressed against a cold stone wall, Kanae huffs out a quick laugh. “If this counts as fun to you, I don’t want to know what you get up to in your free time.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to get to know me?” They ask, faking a mortal wound again with a dashing smile. And, sure, Kanae will admit that without a filthy cape covering them, the stranger certainly does look…
Well, not ugly.
They look not-ugly.
“I never said that.” She huffs, tucking her hair behind her ear again. “I’d like to know the name of my saviour, for one.”
They chuckle at that — perhaps at being called a saviour, or at Kanae’s piqued interest. “Az,” they say, handsome grin painting their soft features. “And you?”
She shrugs, failing to hide the quirk of her lips. “Priye is fine.”
Az just grins, lean arms crossing over their chest while they lean onto a wall. “So, priye.” Their tone is whimsically innocent and guilty all at once; it leaves Kanae averting her gaze. “What’s a royal doing in the streets?”
Kanae bites the inside of her cheek. “I’m not a royal.”
“Either you’re a royal,” Az reaches over and lifts her wrist, holding it up between them. Her bracelet gleams in the sunlight. “Or you’re a thief. So? Which is it?”
Kanae tries not to stare at the tanned skin against hers; tries not to compare the two touches, how the man’s left her disgusted, but Az’s leaves her wanting time to stop. “What about you? Why are you in the streets?”
Az gives her a knowing look, amber eyes shimmering with promise. They let go of her wrist. She pulls it back into her cape, tracing where their fingers were — she can almost feel the warmth leftover from them, radiating off of her skin. “Exploring,” they answer. “Sometimes the beauty of a kingdom can only really be seen from the most dangerous viewpoints.”
“The beauty of this kingdom?” She tries not to feel offended. “Do you not like it?”
Az smiles at her again, all curved eyes and gleaming teeth. They were made for smiling. “I’d say I’m growing rather fond of it.” With a newfound glimmer in their eyes, Az dons their cape and leaps over cracks in the pavement, skipping over to an old decrepit building hidden behind the curve of the alley.
Kanae cautiously follows their steps, lips curling at the sight of moss growing between the stones of the building. There’s a concerning amount of cobwebs littering the threshold. “Where are you going?”
“The most dangerous viewpoint,” Az says, one foot already over the doorway. “Coming?”
Kanae stares at another open hand, fingers twitching to feel the warmth of black gloves again. “You’re much too spontaneous for me.”
“Is that a no?”
Kanae scoffs. “Lead the way.”
After what feels like an eternity of stairs later, Az is finally pushing open an old wooden door at the top of the grimly dusty staircase. It turns out to be an abandoned belltower — one that Kanae didn’t even realise was still standing. She follows Az’s methodical steps around the rusting bell in the middle, and very graciously takes a seat next to Az when they crouch down and swing their legs over the edge.
She can see the palace from here. Sitting in the distance, separated from the town by walls and gardens that Kanae knows like the back of her hand. White columns surround the building — from here, they look sleek and blank, but Kanae knows the carvings in their marble; knows the stories they tell. She knows the hallways, with tall ceilings and endless corridors; knows the rooms, with stained glass windows and elaborate furniture.
“Usually I’m all for adventuring into the night,” Az says, “but I think it’s time for you to get home.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, ” They drag out melodically, bumping their shoulder into Kanae’s, “ladies who almost got mugged today should stick to places where they won’t get mugged.”
Kanae laughs at the comment; gently slaps the back of her hand against Az’s shoulder at the comment — but a part of her aches at the thought. The thought of returning home; waking up at tomorrow’s early dawn; being scrutinised head to toe by her advisor; being a doll for all the extravagant dresses they’ll no doubt put on her; attending an extravagant lunch with too-small meals on too-big plates; adhering to every noble behaviour in the book.
Meeting her new bride-to-be.
She supposed she’s not fully against it — the marriage, that is. She loves her kingdom; her family; her people. She knows the marriage will help them. At the cost of a title, Kanae could promise wealth to her kingdom in ways they’d never thought possible.
But if marriage is the answer…
What happens when she meets someone like Az?
When she wants something more to life than to play someone’s bride?
When she wants to take hold of a warm gloved hand; to stare into grinning amber eyes; to run into the night — to run, and run, until her chest feels like it’s going to burst in tendrils of adventure and mischief and spontaneity?
She looks at Az, sitting beside her, legs only a breath apart. They’re staring out at her kingdom, illuminated by the golden bask of the sunset. A ruffian from the streets, with a head of ideas and a smile of roguery. They’re everything that Kanae should be — will be — walking away from.
After tonight, she’ll be above this.
After tonight, she’ll leave this all behind her.
“Az?”
“Yes, priye?”
She left her royal dignity at the market.
She’ll let herself do this.
“Thank you for today.”
And she kisses them.
It’s nothing sinful; it’s nothing grand. It’s warmth; a blend of lips — of something soft and supple and shy, with something chapped and charming and chaste. It’s over before Kanae really wants it to be, when she pulls away, just a fraction of an inch.
Az laughs, low and hypnotic. “Thought you weren’t the spontaneous type.” They’re so close that the words are barely whispers, simply breaths upon lips.
Kanae doesn’t fight a smile. “Do you want me to take it back?”
“Oh, I’d be an idiot to refuse a kiss.” A gloved palm cups against Kanae’s cheek. She leans into the touch. “Especially from you.”
She’s unsure who initiates the kiss this time, but she can’t find it in herself to care. They’re only able to drown in the pleasure for a measly second before a loud chime from the palace resonates throughout the town, signalling the official arrival of the evening.
Or, to Kanae, signalling the official arrival of Go Home time.
Reluctantly, she parts from Az’s radiant presence, dragging her limbs across mossy stone, retracing their careful steps back to the dismal stairwell. Az is watching her go, with considerate eyes and a small smile. They tilt their head, brown curls bouncing with the movement. “Will I see you again?”
Obscured by the doorway, Kanae allows herself one last lingering glimpse of her mysterious saviour. She tries to smile. “I wish you could, Az.”
And with that, she leaves.
The diadem on Kanae’s head feels heavy as she bows, gracefully curtsying in royal purple robes to greet the princess of the eastern kingdom. Her future bride. She hears footsteps as they enter the drawing room, holding her head low in respect; every muscle in her body trained to honourable perfection.
The steps halt in front of her, and she brings herself to full height, though her eyes remain on the marble below as she keeps her head in a bow. “It is my honour to welcome you to my kingdom,” she recites, “Princess.”
A low whistle is the reply, before— “Well,” The princess chuckles. “I’ll be.”
That cocksure tone.
That alluring attitude.
Kanae looks up to see — a royal.
A royal with bronze skin, glowing beneath flowing Eastern-red fabrics. With brown curls styled to elegance, adorned by golden cuffs weaved into decorative braids. A royal with soft black gloves, and a grin.
That unmistakable grin.
“Princess,” they say, dragging out the title with gleaming white teeth. “Kanae.”
“Princess…” It clicks. She sighs. “ Azariah.” The name falls out of her in an exasperated sigh, appalled by her own ignorance.
Azariah's grin grows impossibly wider; impossibly cockier. “The one and only.” Elegant hands draped in black gloves take Kanae’s delicate fingers into their own, bringing her pale hand to a pair of lips.
Warm.
Chapped.
Smiling.
Az.
“I look forward to our alliance.” They stare up at Kanae from beneath long lashes, golden flakes shimmering with life in pools of amber. “Priye.”
[the end.]
