It was supposed to be a fairytale. At least, that’s what they always told her.

"Princess Kayla," her mother once whispered, brushing a blue rose into her long brown hair, "you were born to wear a crown, not to run from it."

But tonight… Kayla was running. From the silk cages. The smiling liars. From the golden-haired, golden-tongued Prince Evan — her "destined" fiancé. A man who looked like the sun and acted like the flame that burned everything he touched.

“You look radiant today,” Evan had grinned earlier that evening, amber eyes gleaming with possession. “But then again… everything looks good standing next to me.”

She forced a smile. Again. And again. And again. Until it cracked somewhere inside her.

So she ran.

Down the palace halls, through moonlit corridors, skirts fluttering like frightened wings, breath hitching in her chest. She needed out. Anywhere but here.

And that’s when she hit something. Or rather, someone.

Tall. Shadowed. Regal. A long black cloak swayed as if moved by a wind that didn’t exist.

He caught her with one gloved hand, cold fingers brushing her wrist.

She blinked up.

Blue eyes. Cold, fathomless, perfect. Like the sea just before a storm.

"I-I'm so Sorry—!" she stammered, heart hammering.

He said nothing. Just looked at her. Calm. Still. Like he was carved from obsidian and starlight.

And then—she fled again.

He didn’t follow. Not yet.

Instead, Prince Kumei, the infamous phantom of the court—unseen, unreadable, untouchable—watched her disappear into the dark like a comet.

Only when he heard the rush of wind did he move.

From the balcony, she jumped.

His heart—usually quiet, cold, unbothered—twitched.

“...She jumped,” he muttered.

His guards behind him stiffened.

“…Shall we retrieve her, my prince?”

Kumei narrowed his eyes.

“No. Watch.”

Kayla landed with a soft thud in the royal gardens below. She winced, rolled her ankle a bit, but—she was free. For a second. A heartbeat.

Then a voice shattered the silence like a cracked mirror.

“Leaving so soon, my love?”

There he was. Evan. That smirk. That voice. That obnoxiously perfect hair.

Her blood froze.

“You—how did you—?”

“I know all your tricks,” he interrupted smugly. “I invented most of them.”

She turned to run again—only for his guards to block the exit.

“Take her,” Evan ordered. “Back to her room. Lock her in. We’re getting married in six days. No more games.”

“Let me go!” Kayla screamed, fighting back as they seized her arms.

Evan just laughed.

“Such spirit. Can’t wait to break it.”

Above them, unseen among the vines of the terrace, stood Kumei.

His expression remained unchanged. But his voice?

Low. Dangerous.

“…Break her?”

His guards straightened behind him, sensing the shift.

“...Shall we, sire?”

Kumei's voice dropped lower, almost a whisper.

“Bring her to me.”

One guard hesitated. “But—Prince Evan—”

“If Evan lays one more finger on her,” Kumei said, smiling without smiling, “I’ll return the favor. Tenfold.”

His cloak swirled as he turned, disappearing into the shadows like a curse whispered on the wind.

And so the war began.

Evan, proud, territorial, and glowing like fire. Kumei, cold, calculating, and dangerous like ice. Kayla, caught between two kingdoms, two hearts… and no freedom.

But this wasn't a fairytale. This was something darker. And she? She was done being the prize.