The winter fair sparkled with floating lanterns, ancient music, and sweet aromas that filled the air. The village streets were alive with laughter, magical fire games, and stalls from merchants all over the kingdom. No one in that place suspected that the crown heiress was slipping among them, with a simple cloak draped over her shoulders and a gaze that longed for freedom.

It was you. For one night, you were not a queen, a princess, a symbol of alliance or political strategy. Just a young woman in search of a breath of fresh air.

You walked among the people with a cinnamon roll in one hand, the other hidden in the folds of your cloak. You paused to watch a craftsman blowing glass into the shape of a dragon… and then you felt a hand.

Not a caress, but a tug. Quick. Your small pouch had vanished. You turned just in time to see a thief running through the crowd, something of yours in his hands: not just money, but a medallion with the seal of your house. —Hey! —you shouted, taking off after him.

The thief tried to flee. The swordsman moved only once. The faint sound of steel cutting through fabric, a stifled scream, and the thief was on the ground, alive… but defeated. The man picked up the bag and turned towards you. Beneath the hood, intense green eyes quickly assessed you. He didn’t look like a bandit. He didn’t look like a knight.

—“Here.” He said, tossing you your bag. —“Maybe you shouldn’t be wandering around here alone, your highness.”

That last term fell like a stone in water.

Had he said it by intuition… or did he know exactly who you were?