Amaya had nowhere to go. The Prince was heading towards her in full strides like an unstoppable boulder rolling down a hill. She kept every piece of herself wanting to flee away and prepare herself for the promise of another excruciating interaction.

The boulder hit, and it wasn't as shattering as she thought it would be at least at first glance. Broad shoulders, robust arms, and legs topped by the features of ancient god statue all dipped in magnificent copper, sun-loved skin tone. The Princess blinked, making sense of what she saw and felt.

His mouth stretched, and it was like the moon had revealed itself. That luxurious smile of his was probably one of the reasons the continent was head over heels for that man. But his foxy eyes were probably another one. Amaya was pulled into a deep pool of gold and copper, so infatuated with each other they made one inside his irises.

Her mouth opened softly.

"Princess Amaya." An amusing glint passed through his eyes, much aware of the effect he had on people, and Amaya wanted to turn away, not giving the satisfaction of seeing her that way, but his voice was as pulling as the rest of him. So deep, rich, and soothing that she would let it lull her. "I am delighted to meet you finally." A sturdy hand grabbed her soft and precious as if she would shatter from his touch. The medals cluttering his crimson uniform attest that he could do so.

Her breath caught in her throat as his soft full lips caressed the back of her hand. A rush of blood ascended to her cheeks as she silently thanked the God Sun for the berry powder coloring them already vibrant.

His amber eyes burned through her the whole time.

Gasps and murmurs bounced from the crowd around them, and Amaya scraped her throat. "Prince Ezri."

He straightened up gracefully, wearing decorum like his uniform, and let go of her. "You know me."

Amaya lifted her chin. "I have heard a few words."

"I hope it was only pleasant ones," A false worry lingered in his voice, or maybe a sort of humbleness. Whatever it was, she wouldn't give the satisfaction of an affirmative statement.

The music shifted to a slow, dreamy tune that had made every dancer leisure their paces.

Ezri offered a palm up. "May I have this dance?"

A weight pushed against the Princess' chest as she stared at the palm. She hadn't danced with anyone all night, refusing to be part of this grotesque charade.

Eyes peered at them, betting on another rejection or the first success of the night as the room held its breath for the outcome. Even the music seemed to fade away.

She lifted her eyes to the throne, and the stare of her Father was still roaring, loud with expectations despite the distance.

A deep inhalation grounded her before accepting the invitation. A collective gasp echoed inside the room, and the music went full blast again. The Prince led his victory to the middle dance floor as people discarded, giving them their space and intimacy.

"The Princess finally found a partner to dance with." Lord Virwan's staff echoed as he stepped near the King, an attempt at a smile melting his crooked nose to the side.

"It seemed so." The King's features stretched with satisfaction. "Who is that?"

"The Prince of Mias."

"Oh," The King massaged his beard, pensive. "I see. So be it."

"It is quite the fine match for the Princess." The King nodded. "I told Your Highness. It was only a question before the Princess warmed to the situation."

In addition to having a devastating physique, the Prince was also an astute dancer. He led Amaya with expertise. Still, his steps vibrated with a sleekness and agility that men his rank usually cruelly lack, for their backs were always straight as arrows. All this, while the amber, never left her a second. "I must say this gown suit you very well."

"Thank you." She had heard that all night.

He extended his arm, let her escape, and twirled, gold and blue mixing in a wave before capturing her again in his grip. "The fabric flows beautifully, and is that daisies embroidered on your skirt?"

She raised a brow. "I didn't know you were the fashion expert." That was a surprise.

"I can appreciate a beautiful gown, especially on a stunning woman." He chuckled, and an eye roll itched her.

They let go of each other, twirling on themselves. Amaya's eyes found the crowd and noticed the Lord, who had almost lost his sanity earlier. He had removed his stained jacket but wore a deep scowl. Her stomach turned as the stableman flashed through her mind.

The Prince tilted his head as they faced back each other. "Is something wrong?"

She opened her mouth before closing it and opening it again. "I was just thinking about what you did earlier for the stable- servant. It was admirable." Even if it pained her to admit it, she had to give praise when it was due.

"Oh, this. It was nothing but a mere quarrel that needed to be diffused."

"What kind of quarrel?" Her brows furrowed.

"Something about a debt," he drawled out, eyes narrowing in recollection.

"What debt?" Her feet stopped, clawed to the floor by concern.

Curiosity glinted in the man's smile. "Nothing that matters. Do not worry. I made sure to resolve the issue." He guided her to dance again.

Her tongue tingled with more questions, but she refrained and settled for a nod. A glance across her shoulder showed that he hadn't returned since that moment, and her heart couldn't help but be caged with worry.

"You do really care about your servants," Ezri pointed.

Amaya stared at him for a moment before she diffused her panic with a scoff. "Shouldn't I be? I am the future Queen. This is but my duty," she said, hoping he would swallow that reasoning like an appetizer.

"As a future King myself, I know your pain," Ezri trailed off before pointing his head to the side to the line of men crossing their arms, features tight with envy. "Talking about Kings. Any chance the future King of Ornuv stands there?"

Amaya followed his gaze before stifling a laugh. "Absolutely not."

"And why is it so?"

A deep sigh. "All I have been hearing all night is about my Father's politics, strategies to conquer, and Ornuv lands and resources." The Princess shook her head. "They want everything about what I represent and nothing to do about what I am truly." A smirk settled on the Prince's lips, and she glared at him up and down. "Do not believe anything from this." His eyebrows rose high. "I must dance, or Father will be upset. It doesn't mean anything. Do not flatter yourself too much."

A soft chuckle escaped the man, warm and inviting. "I am glad I was at least chosen to be your scapegoat. This is truly an honor." Amaya rolled her eyes this time, but a subtle playfulness lingered in her features.

The tune faded, and before the last music note disappeared, the Prince brought their bodies closer, an arm caging the small of her back. Amaya's chest heaved as his amber turned to a burning gold. "I want to know you. Truly."

Amaya fought herself not to look away but feared if she kept her gaze on him, her limbs might melt to the floor. "Perhaps, you will." Her voice was hoarse as her throat dried.

The Prince smiled and let go of her, giving her respite finally. "It was a pleasure to be your scapegoat, Princess." He bowed down, and Amaya nodded. A last flash of a moon and he was off, vanishing inside the crowd.

Her skin hadn't had the time to cool off when a face entered her vision.

"Princess, would you give me this dance?"

And another one. "Your Highness, I believe our union would be the new Favor of this continent!"

"Princess Amaya. With all due respect. I have a few ideas about how to enhance the policies on the continent."

"Princess."

"Princess?"

"Princess!"

Faces kept swarming her vision, words mixing into a muddy jabbering before she couldn't take it anymore and burst out, "Stop!" The crowd fell into a quiet shock that mirrored back on her. She cleared her throat. "Please, excuse me." She pushed through them, heading towards the door, her freedom a few paces away, when Lily jumped into her sight.

"Where are you going?" Lily hissed through her teeth, trying to keep a smile as stares fell on them.

"I- I just need a moment to breathe."

The shorter woman's eyes increased like a madman's. "No. No. No. You are going to breathe tomorrow, your Highness. Not now."

Amaya closed her eyes tightly. "Lily. I must get out of here, or I will lose my mind."

"What about the King? He is going to be furious."

"I trust you to come up with something." Amaya threw before slipping past her; all Lily could do was watch her go.

A frantic chuckle left her lips as questioning murmurs rose around her. "Your Highness went to the privy chamber. Her stomach needs relief." She massaged her own belly. Offense washed over faces. "It's the appetizers. It didn't pass well." A woman spat out her food, her face horrified. A servant passed with a tray, and Lily snatched an appetizer and swallowed it whole. "It's still delicious!" She declared, chewing.

**

Lach's hands balanced a tray full of stained plates and empty cups. He had been going back and forth through the hallway from the ceremonial room to the kitchen, collecting dirty dishes. After his sixth or seventh trip- he didn't know anymore. He had stopped counting at some point- a thick black smoke spread from a corner, rolling before him. He froze. The first thing coming to his mind was that a fire had started and the whole castle was about to burn down, but after a moment, the expected smell of ashes and embers didn't abuse his nose.

Lach followed the thick dark smoke and fell into a corner when he saw the silhouette of a man. His eyes widened as he recognized the peculiar profile of Commander Zakrus. His features were tight with fury as he screamed in a hushes at someone or something inside the dark cloud.

Lach quietly put the plate to the ground and leaned against a wall, hiding his body as his ears stretched.

"Ornuv can't go into the hands of strangers!" Zakrus spat. "You said you would do something about it," he pointed a menacing finger towards the smoke. Lach frowned deeply.

It was as if he was talking to himself.

Lach was about to question the sanity of the Commander when a voice raised from the dark smoke. "Do not fret, Commander. It's a question of time. This won't mean anything once we get the Favor back." Dark eyes jolted open. The Favor? What was he talking about? It had been lost and forgotten for a decade now. The tongues still pronouncing its name belonged to foolish people. So Lach thought.

"We do not have time." The Commander went on.

"Do not forget the prophecy, Commander," the eerie voice coming from the smoke stated, spurring a raised brow from the Commander. Now, Lach was completely lost.

Zakrus let a dry laugh. "Who cares about an outdated prophecy?"

"It is the proof the Favour is still here."

"Then, you should act because Solstice is in a mere seven days!" Zakrus threw his arms in the air.

"Your eyes need to open up, Commander. It's still here-"Lach leaned forward, but as he did, his feet slid forward, colliding with the tray, making the ceramic rattle and resonate throughout the hallway.

The Commander's chin jerked up, and Lach flattened his back against the wall, mouth tight.

"Who's there?" Footsteps approached, prompting Lach to collect the tray and dart back where he came from, heart bouncing inside his rib cage as he glanced over his shoulder, every breath taken for fear of seeing the Commander's ominous form chasing him.

His breathing was so loud in his ears that he hadn't heard the steps coming from before him. Just as he passed by it, something came out from a corner. The collision was inevitable. The tray had no chance to hang on, even if it screamed for life as it slipped from Lach's fingers like shoes on ice. The dishes rattled together as they crashed on the floor, the shattered pieces scattering around.

"Shit." the cuss escaped his mouth before he could grab it. Knees on the floor, he collected the second mess he had made that night. If not the third. His brain was as shambled as the white ceramic, but he was still lucid enough to profuse windstorm of apologies. "I am sorry."

"Lach?"

The stableman paused. That voice. It couldn't be.

His eyes slowly panned up to the person he collided with and he was thunderstruck.

Long blue sparkling dress, dark skin glowing like a diamond, large deer-like eyes, and a crown.

A crown.

The Princess mirrored his shock. "Lach... It's you. I- I have been wondering about-"

"Who is there?" A voice roared—the Commander. Before panic could infuse his body, he leaped onto his feet, grabbing the Princess's hand before pulling her inside a shadowed corner.

"What are you-" A finger pushed against her mouth, and her eyes screamed with questions. Lach shook his head, pleading for her to stay quiet. Her features tightened, understanding something was wrong.

The clomping of heavy footsteps approached before they stopped at the edge of their safety shadow, and Lach's closed his eyes tightly.

Clinking sounds rang through their ears, and Lach cussed under his breath. The tray. In his escape plan, he hadn't thought of hiding that evidence.

The footsteps got closer, Amaya's body huddled more against him, and the realization hit him. If anyone found them so close, so tightly enlaced...He could give his farewell to life.

Lach's heart drummed like a rabid dog trying to burst out from a cage, and as if she felt it, her eyes rose to him. The soul of night stared at him. Even in the darkness, he could count each of her eyelashes, smell her perfume, her fear, the rage of her heartbeat mimicking his.

The steps got louder and closer, and Lach's breath held.