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~ Mia ~
“This is utter madness!” I exclaimed, my voice rising with disbelief. “If Jabrel stood where I am now, the crown would be handed to him without hesitation. No hurdles, no demands. But me? I’m shackled by these ridiculous transitional laws. Why should I endure this trial while he lounges in comfort? The mere thought that my brother could so easily claim what I must fight for is infuriating.”
“That’s just how things are, darling,” my mother replied with a serene, practiced calm that only deepened my irritation. “The council is simply doing its duty by informing you before your coronation. You’ll find a suitable partner in time.”
“In time?” I scoffed. “You call this time? How am I supposed to forge a genuine connection under pressure? Love doesn’t sprout overnight, Mother. It takes effort, understanding—actual time.” My voice cracked as tension wrapped itself around my chest like a tightening corset. The weight of expectation pressed in from all sides.
Noticing my unease, Jabrel walked over and gently rested a reassuring hand on my shoulder. He told me that I would find someone someday—and when that time comes, we’ll stand together and fight this law.
His confidence in me was a flicker of warmth. That was Jabrel—always the peacemaker, the spark of light when darkness crept in. I trusted him more than anyone. He saw in me what others refused to acknowledge—that I was ready to rule. Not in the future. Now.
I sprang to my feet and called out for my servants, Hamon and Mikhal. My voice rang through the chamber, and they entered in unison, their movements poised and graceful. I hesitated briefly, debating what I wanted to eat, then instructed Mikhal to bring me something sweet from the kitchen.
Mikhail bowed with a chuckle before vanishing down the corridor. “Hamon,” I turned to my advisor, the lines of concern still etched on my brow. “What is your honest opinion of arranged marriage?”
He hesitated, his eyes lowering to the marble floor. “It… worked well for your grandmother. She found love, eventually. And it does simplify the process of finding a partner.”
“But what if I never find that kind of love?” I whispered. “I grew up outside of Satia, surrounded by people who found each other naturally. Connections sparked without rules or conditions. And now I might be denied that entirely.”
My voice trembled, and tears welled in my eyes. Hamon, ever gentle, reached into his coat and offered me a folded napkin. He dabbed my cheek with the same tenderness my grandfather once showed me. I remembered sitting on his knee, telling him I would one day change the kingdom. Hamon had always believed in that dream.
But now, because of one old-fashioned law, I felt like a puppet queen. Were my parents so unsure of my judgment that they’d bind me to a stranger? Regardless of my feelings, I had no choice but to comply. I had to find a king—someone deemed “suitable” to rule beside me.
Mikhal returned, carrying a silver tray lined with delicate confections. His expression was warm and proud as he presented the sweets, clearly pleased with the chef’s efforts.
The aroma—sweet, rich, and familiar—beckoned me away from the heaviness of the throne. My eyes locked onto the Key Lime Pie, and my stomach answered with a loud rumble. With laser focus, I crossed the room and seized my prize. As I took the first bite, Mikhal and Hamon exchanged knowing smiles, clearly pleased to see my spirits lifted, even if only for a moment.
~ Ansiel ~
Breathless and desperate, I yanked my brother into a narrow alleyway just ahead of the patrol. Our backs pressed against the cold stone as we gasped for air, lungs burning from the sprint. Joshua sank to the ground, barely conscious.
“If those guards hadn’t interfered,” he moaned, “we would’ve finished it. I was sculpting something brilliant.”
“We’ll lie low for now. Let the search die down,” I replied, eyes scanning the alley entrance. “But they got the message, trust me.”
He chuckled faintly and reclined like he was lounging at home. Home—what a laughable concept. We had none. Ever since our parents were imprisoned for defying the queen’s decree, we’d been fugitives. It didn’t help that we’d made a few— questionable decisions. We conned citizens out of their gold, got caught, and now we’re branded as traitors and sentenced to die.
But the laws are flawed—designed to protect the privileged and persecute the desperate. The bounties on our heads are unjust, but we can’t afford sentiment. We either repay the debts or take down the system entirely. Overthrow the monarchy. It’s been done before.
Joshua’s voice pulled me back to reality, his eyes silently begging the question. I placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a quiet reassurance—we’d eat in the yard if there was anything left. If not, we’d find another way.
The scavenger’s life is miserable—hunting for scraps like rats in a forgotten maze. We avoided the city now unless disguised; it was too risky. Upon returning to the train yard, our ramshackle hideout outside the kingdom, I spotted a familiar figure leaning against the door.
I fixed Hazel with a cold stare and flatly questioned the purpose of her presence. What was she after this time? She answered with a smug smirk, as if I’d done something wrong. All she really wanted was to see her boyfriend—my brother.
Lady Hazel White, noble-born, daughter of two high-ranking generals, had no business mingling with outlaws. Yet, here she was, entangled with my brother like it was a fairytale.
“If you’re going to see Joshua,” I said, “you’d better have brought food.”
With a dramatic eye-roll, she gestured toward the door. “I did. Enough to last a week. You’re welcome.”
Joshua greeted her like a love-struck fool, spinning her around and planting a kiss as if we weren’t criminals on the run. I cringed and turned away, heading inside to inspect the goods. The stash was impressive—bread, fruit, smoked meat. It could last longer than a week if rationed.
People always wonder: Why doesn’t Hazel just help you more? Fund your freedom? Buy your pardon? Because if we’re caught together, we all fall. She’s walking a razor-thin line. So we take what we can—quietly.
But then came the news. The princess—Princess Mia—is seeking a consort. She can’t ascend without one. And here’s the twist: the law doesn’t specify gender. Mia can marry anyone.
“That’s… interesting,” I mused, biting into an apple. “But I doubt I’m her type.”
“I can get you in, Ansiel,” Hazel said. “She trusts me. I’m already on the list. I’ll add your name. Tomorrow morning, we’ll dress you like a noble and cross paths with her ‘by accident.’ If she doesn’t choose immediately, she’ll be selecting from the ones who caught her attention.”
My thoughts raced—power, legitimacy, safety—all suddenly within reach. The possibility of being chosen meant more than just a title; it meant ruling side by side, like the legendary queens of old. A grin tugged at my lips before I could stop it. Hazel was cunning, skilled at presenting herself with the poise of nobility—and now, I would be too.
I extended my hand, sealing the agreement. She took it with a knowing smirk. The pact was made. Tomorrow, it would all begin. Everything was finally aligning.
