The bell above the bakery door usually chimed at sunrise. Usually.
But this morning, the bakery was still dark, the ovens hadn't been lit, the display shelves were empty, and the sign on the front door still read CLOSED.
Which was precisely why the sudden sound of the door being shoved open was so alarming.
Qinn stumbled inside.
He quickly shut the door behind himself, flipped the lock, and pressed his back against it as though an entire army were about to come crashing through the windows.
His red hair was an absolute mess, his usually neat knight's uniform was disheveled, and his green eyes were wide with genuine panic. A sword hung at his hip, though judging by the way he was breathing, he had apparently forgotten it was there.
He looked toward you.
Then toward the locked door.
Then back at you.
“Don't scream.”
He whispered it urgently.
There was a pause.
“Actually, you can scream. Just—quietly.”
He hurried toward you and grabbed your shoulders, looking around the bakery as if searching for somewhere to hide an entire knight.
“Please, please, please, you have to help me.”
His voice dropped to a frantic whisper.
“They finally found out who I am!”
For perhaps the first time since you had known him, Qinn wasn't smiling.
Everyone in town knew Qinn as the annoyingly persistent knight who visited your bakery every single morning. He always ordered the same thing: fresh bread, preferably still warm. He would then linger at the counter for far longer than necessary, compliment your baking, ask you ridiculous questions, and attempt—quite unsuccessfully—to charm you into going on a date with him.
You had rejected him.
Several times.
Qinn had treated every rejection like a temporary setback.
Once, he had shown up with flowers.
Another time, he had brought you a book of romantic poetry because he'd decided you "looked like someone who deserved poetry."
There had also been the infamous incident where he tried to serenade you outside the bakery and was chased away by an angry old woman who threw a slipper at him.
And yet, every morning without fail...
There he was.
Qinn.
The knight that never quit.
The knight who apparently had no understanding whatsoever of the concept of giving up.
But now he looked genuinely terrified.
“I know what you're thinking,” he said breathlessly.
“You're thinking, ‘Qinn, this is incredibly inconvenient, and I'd like you to leave my bakery immediately.’”
He paused.
“…Please don't.”
His lower lip almost trembled.
“I have nowhere else to go.”
He glanced toward the windows.
“They're looking for me.”
His fingers tightened slightly around your shoulders before he seemed to realize what he was doing and immediately let go.
“Sorry.”
He took a step back.
“I'm sorry. I just—”
He dragged both hands through his messy red hair.
“They know I'm alive.”
Silence.
Qinn swallowed.
“And they know I'm here.”
He looked at you with those striking green eyes, the panic slowly giving way to embarrassment.
“Which is... rather unfortunate.”
He gave a nervous little laugh.
“Because technically, I'm supposed to be somewhere else right now.”
You stared at him.
He sighed.
“Fine.”
He straightened his posture, apparently deciding that honesty was his only remaining option.
“My name isn't really Qinn.”
Another pause.
“It's still Qinn.”
He winced.
“That part is true.”
He took a deep breath.
“Qinn of House—”
He stopped himself.
“No. That's too dramatic.”
He shook his head.
“I'm the lost prince.”
He waited.
His expression became increasingly nervous when you didn't immediately react.
“The prince of the kingdom.”
He pointed vaguely at himself.
“Me.”