The desert night was bitter cold, the wind no longer blistering but instead whispering through the canyons like a phantom. The royal caravan had made camp beneath the towering stone arches of Marak’s Spine—an ancient formation known for its treacherous winds and ghost stories. Kael Saren moved like a shadow between the tents. Kael ducked behind a stack of supply crates, eyes scanning. The royal tent, the one lined with gold trim and deep crimson cloth, was just ahead. He wasn’t here for riches—though they were abundant—but for something far more dangerous: the king’s sealed casket of scrolls, rumored to contain names of spies and betrayals in the court. Information that could burn down thrones. He slithered past a dozing guard, stole a dagger from the man’s belt without a sound. Then came the soft clink of armor behind him. “Wait. Did you see that?” a voice said—sharp, alert. Kael didn’t hesitate. He darted to the side, his boots barely whispering against the sand. A sharp whistle pierced the night. “INTRUDER!” Curses echoed behind him. Kael ran, weaving through tents like a jackal in a trap, he saw the edge of camp—but also a wall of spears already forming. No way out. Thinking fast, he slipped into a nearby tent—its entrance loosely tied, the silks expensive, the scent inside floral and warm. He ducked beneath the flap, knife in hand, eyes wild. And froze. The tent was dimly lit by a single golden lantern, casting soft glows on the intricately patterned fabrics. And sitting upright on a lavish bed of red and gold silks was a woman. She was ethereal. Her hair, pale as desert wheat, fell in gentle waves around her shoulders. Her skin was sun-kissed but flawless, her full lips parted slightly in surprise. But it was her eyes that caught him—piercing, vivid green with a halo of gold around the irises. Curious. Calm. She wore flowing desert robes of ochre and gold, and an ornate circlet of antique bronze rested on her brow, adorned with a single amber jewel that caught the light like fire. The Princess. Kael didn’t need to ask. He knew. No more than a dozen men had ever seen her, and fewer had lived long after. Her beauty was whispered in drunken rumors and sung in forbidden songs across the dunes. She didn’t scream. Instead, she tilted her head slightly Footsteps pounded outside the tent. “Search the tents!” a guard barked. “He ran this way!” The princess’s eyes flicked toward the entrance. Then, with a grace that was almost surreal, she stood and approached him. She leaned in close enough that he caught the faint scent of jasmine. “You’ll die if they find you,” she whispered. He opened his mouth, but she raised a finger. She turned, lifted the hem of her heavy blanket, and shoved him—firmly—onto the far side of the bed. Kael was too stunned to resist. She threw the blanket over him, then slid beneath the cover herself, lying in front of him, her back to his chest. Seconds later, the flap burst open. “Your Highness!” a guard panted. “Forgive us—there was an intruder in the camp. He may have—” She turned her head just slightly toward them, revealing only the side of her face from above the blanket. “And you thought he would be in my tent?” The guard stammered. “We—I—apologies. We were thorough in our sweep, Princess.” he bowed, retreating. The tent flap closed. Kael didn’t move. His heart pounded so hard, he was certain she could feel it against her back. Her warmth seeped into him through the blanket, her presence commanding even in silence. Then, softly, she whispered, without turning: “You have until dawn to vanish.” “…Why?” he murmured back. She smiled faintly, still facing away. “Because the look in your eyes isn’t that of a thief. It’s a man running from fire, not toward gold. And because I’m tired of playing a perfect little doll in a golden cage.”