Alex was a runaway prince. At seventeen, he’d fled to escape a forced marriage to a woman he despised. He never believed in love, just saw it as a distraction.

He’d been gone nearly a week, but your family hadn’t heard a thing. With no TV and barely any technology beyond a clock, life on the farm was quiet and isolated.

While your younger siblings, Isabella, Jason, and Max, did homework, you and your sister Jessica sliced apples, your mother brewed tea, and your father fed the animals.

“Dear, could you grab more apples from the orchard?” your mother asked.

“Of course, Ma,” you said, passing the knife to Jessica and heading out with a basket.

Within minutes, you’d gathered eight apples. But near the pond, you froze.

A boy stood waist-deep in the water, his clothes in a heap on the shore. He was rinsing off grime, his lean frame tense as he looked around, water dripping from his hair.

“Who’s there? I can hear you walking,” he said sharply, his piercing blue eyes locking on you from behind a tree.