Beneath the Crown

In the gleaming heart of the royal capital—where even the cobblestones were polished enough to reflect gossip before it was spoken—there came a shriek, a crash, and then a burst of what could only be described as floral-scented chaos.

“Stop that girl!” a merchant roared, holding what remained of his best vase: six elegant shards, a bit of wishful thinking, and a suspicious amount of glitter.

A streak of whitish-blonde whipped past him—followed by a splash from a nearby fountain and left a trail of cherries Suzan had swiped from someone’s fruit cart..

“Oops,” she said brightly, not slowing for a second. “It slipped! Like... fate!”

Suzan didn’t stop. Suzan never stopped.

Thirteen years old, with green eyes that looked like they were constantly deciding whether to trust you, rob you, or possibly adopt you as a sidekick—she had the kind of smile that said “I did it and I’d do it again” before you even figured out what went missing.

She wore her white-blonde hair in a neat braid... that she’d messed up on purpose. She polished her boots, except for the streaks of mud she carefully applied. Her clothes looked royal-adjacent until you realized the jacket had different buttons and the trousers belonged to two completely different sets.

She was a paradox. A walking contradiction. A girl who didn’t belong on the streets—and tried very hard to make sure no one noticed that.

Today, she zigzagged through the market square like a particularly stylish squirrel on espresso.

“SUZAN!” someone bellowed. A second stall collapsed. A blur of her figure and flying boots darted through a vendor’s stall with the grace of a cat and the subtlety of a falling chandelier

She waved behind her. “I love you all! Send complaints to the Ministry of Vibes!”

At the fountain near the town square stood Lily, arms crossed, hair braided tight, with a face that said “This is the fifth time this week.”

“You’re late,” Lily deadpanned as Suzan skidded to a stop, panting.

“I arrived,” Suzan said, flicking cherry juice from her collar, “precisely when I meant to.”

“You knocked over a vase.”

“It was wobbly. I merely nudged it toward enlightenment.”

Lily rolled her eyes—professionally, at this point. “Someone’s going to throw you in the stocks.”

“They’d have to catch me first. Or at least bribe me with cake.”

Lily rolled her eyes and handed over a fresh handkerchief. “You’ve got cherry juice on your collar again.”

“Battle scars,” Suzan said, dabbing at it. “From a war between craving and consequence.”

Unlike Suzan, Lily looked normal. And by “normal,” we mean boring. Brown hair, black eyes, and a fashion sense that didn’t scream “I stole this from a noble and added sequins.” Lily’s outfits had never been on rooftops. Her shoes didn’t creak rebelliously when she walked. She was steady. Grounded.

Which was probably why they were friends.

Together, they strolled toward the Grand Pavilion, where the capital’s most dramatic documentary-slash-stage play-slash-flashy-lie-of-the-week aired: “Explorers of the Edge.” The series followed the misadventures of Captain Derick, who, depending on the week, was either discovering long-lost cities or running from angry desert goats.

Suzan never missed an episode.

Except she had.

For a whole year.

Because they kept playing reruns.

“I swear, Lily,” she said, clutching her sleeve, “if it’s another rerun, I’m going to scream and fake a fainting spell.”

“Last time you faked fainting, the pigeon fainted first.”

“I still think he was in on it.”

The Grand Pavilion was packed. The air smelled of sugar-baked popcorn, cinnamon puffs, and mild disappointment. As the lights dimmed, Suzan perched like a feral cat on the edge of her seat.

Dramatic drums rolled.

Captain Derick’s face filled the screen. The man looked tired, overly excited, and like he hadn’t combed his hair since the last royal funeral.

“Once again, we return to the Caves of Crystal!” the narrator boomed.

Suzan slumped.

“Ugh,” Suzan groaned. “It’s a rerun. Again. That’s the seventh time.”

“I counted five.”

“I have rerun trauma. I could’ve explored those caves myself by now. Backwards. With one boot.”

“Or started a black-market pillow business,” Lily added.

“Still exploring. Softly.”

They left before Derick got lost in his own map again.

Evening fell like a royal curtain over the city. Lamplight shimmered across white walls and gold balconies. Pigeons found their nightly perches and began their gossip in earnest.

The girls walked through the Noble Quarter, where homes looked more expensive than some small kingdoms and probably had chandeliers in their closets.

“Home time,” Lily said at the corner of Wisteria Street.

“Ugh. Already?”

“You don’t have a proper home.”

“Exactly. I need a little more chaos before bedtime.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Lily, please. When have I ever done anything stupid?”

“Want a list? Or a scroll?”

They grinned.

Then Lily waved, but Suzan still grabbed her to walk a bit more.

Suzan stood for a moment. Quietly thinking where to go to cause chaos.

Then turned in the opposite direction.

Because of course she did.

The city at night was its own kind of secret.

Shadows whispered. Footsteps asked questions. Windows blinked golden stories behind curtains too expensive to exist.

Suzan wandered into the Merchant’s Loop—past the teahouses that told fortunes in foam and the story-brewers who could spin yarns from spilled ink.

That’s when she heard them.

Voices. Low. Focused.

She tiptoed behind a marble column and peeked into the small plaza behind the Velvet Sphinx Inn. Five cloaked men sat at a table that practically screamed Definitely Up To Something.

“…they say it can turn back time,” one whispered.

“Just a myth.”

“So was the Hollow Crown. Until someone wore it.”

Suzan’s eyebrows tried to reach her hairline.

Turn back time? Did they say that, actually?

“Even if it exists,” someone muttered, “how would we find it or even get close?”

“We believe… it’s here. In this kingdom.”

Suzan’s curiosity physically tried to climb out of her body, and she gasped loudly.

Lily’s whisper, who she already forgot was there because of her hissed behind her, sharp and panicked. “Suzan—what are you doing?!”

She inched closer. And then—stepped on a twig.

All five heads snapped around.

Before Lily could stop her, Suzan burst from behind the column like a squirrel on fire.

“WHERE IS IT?!” she shouted, slapping both hands on the table with a grin. “Come on, spill! Ancient relic? Time thingy? Spooky magical nonsense?! I live for this!”

The cloaked men froze. They blinked, surprised.

She blinked back, excited.

Then one of them smiled.

Not the kind of smile you’d want.

Lily, still half in shadow, nearly tripped over her own feet trying to reach her. “Suzan—no!”

Too late.

Suzan was already in the middle of something she didn’t understand.

And someone had just taken interest in her.