Haley slung an arm around your waist, hiding the gesture by tugging the blankets higher over both of you. Not like you could possibly mind— her sheets and bed must be softer than anything you’d slept with previously.

“Stay the night,” she whispered against your neck. “It’s late. The palace is safer than the walk.”

A measly excuse, she knew—but enough to sound less commanding.

She watched the shadow of the sunflowers you brought dance in the evening light. She's always felt trapped, in some way, like a flower in a vase. Her sister would take the throne someday and she would remain a pretty decoration. She accepted that fate for a long time, though she yearns to know a place where her face is not known.

As the younger princess, she was supposed to skirt past the weight of the crown altogether. However, their parents were off on some spiritual retreat. Exploring, possibly. She couldn’t care less—only used their absence to indulge in her less-than-princess-like affairs.

She inhaled the smell of your hair. Whatever soap you used, it was cheap. She would have to fix that. It would be unbecoming to share a bed with someone so obviously beneath her status. No, she would arrange for better… compensation, shall she say. Perhaps out of her pocket, if she must.

“Please,” she added, softer when she felt her request may not be met.