I moved quickly, trusting the palace map I’d carefully committed to memory. Unfortunately, Evander’s distraction had drawn the guards along my familiar route, forcing me into an unfamiliar wing. After several turns, the corridors began to blur together.
I slowed, unease prickling. Something was wrong. Each embellished tapestry, suit of armor, and ornate decoration seemed to bleed into one another, offering no clear landmarks to guide me
“You’re escaping with quite a lot of confidence for someone who’s lost.”
I startled, then spun to be greeted by Evander’s now familiar smirk. I hadn’t heard him following me…and for the first time, I wondered if he ever had, or if he simply appeared whenever it suited him.
“I’m not lost,” I snapped, though my irritation did little to mask the relief at his timely arrival. “I’m just…exploring. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve spent most of my time at the palace as a prisoner locked in my chambers.”
“A weak excuse, but one I can accept.” He frowned in the direction of the guards we’d just evaded. “They certainly don’t treat you like a princess.” His gaze returned to me, lingering a moment, as if reassessing something.
Something in his measured perusal sent a flicker of unease through me. I wanted to ask if that judgment came from his experience as a prince himself, but that knowledge belonged to a dream I did not yet trust. Better to keep it in reserve, a card to be played only when necessary.
“Because as I keep insisting, I’m not a princess at all,” I said, exasperated. “The world is shifting…but as you so implied, you seem to know why.”
I gave him a searching look. He lifted his hands in a cajoling gesture. “All in due time. I can’t very well give away my only bartering tool that’s secured your cooperation so easily.”
I sighed. “I often wish you weren’t so clever; it would be more to my advantage if your confidence wasn’t entirely warranted.”
“Does this mean demonstrating my capabilities has earned your trust as I’d hoped…and perhaps persuaded you to like me a bit more?” His smile turned just a shade more knowing.
“Perhaps you’re not entirely useless,” I conceded. For my snappy retort, I couldn’t quiet my reluctant silent admission that his charm had worked…much to my annoyance.
He dipped into a gallant bow. “I’ll take whatever compliment I can get from someone who guards her praise so closely, and give you the credit due. My distraction was only part of the equation—you’re remarkably graceful, nimble enough slip past unnoticed.”
Such praise was nothing new after years of successful heists. Yet somehow, hearing it from him sent warmth rising unbidden to my cheeks. For one frustrated moment, I found myself speechless. “Flattery won’t work on me,” I finally managed. Except that it already had.
Being with him unraveled every rule of my profession, stripping away the careful mask I’d worn for years, leaving me exposed. Once more, I wondered if Evander had materialized for the sole purpose of leading me astray. If that was his intent, he was succeeding far too well.
I glanced around, as though a safer topic might be hidden nearby, waiting to be claimed. After a prolonged silence, I nodded towards the corridor we’d come from. “That was quite the distraction. What did you break?” The question felt neutral enough, distant enough to avoid deepening my growing attachment.
“Don’t concern yourself,” he said. “I always hated that particular suit of armor. It wasn’t particularly valuable, nothing worth stealing.”
I gave a small huff. “You assume value is measured solely in coin, but an object’s true worth has little to do with its monetary value.”
He tilted his head, curiosity sharpening his expression. “A rare philosophy from someone who steals for a living.”
“There is more than one currency essential for survival.” Though in my case, it was more emotional than physical.
Such as memories of lives and connections I had never truly known, fragments I chased through stolen moments, hoping to quiet the loneliness they left behind.
He only looked more intrigued. For the first time, I felt the dangerous urge to confide in him about my power, about the stories hidden within objects and the strange, fleeting comfort they brought. But those were truths I had spent my entire life guarding. It would be foolish to surrender them now…especially to a man I had every reason not to trust.
And yet, the desire lingered.
I hesitated, weighing the risk. “I believe it’s one who possesses an object that gives it meaning through the memories it holds,” I said. “Life is more than survival; it’s about purpose.”
Something in his expression shifted, softening. “Admittedly, that particular suit of armor made for an excellent hiding place when escaping my tutors or playing hide-and-seek with the servant children.” His gaze drifted, distant with memory. “Perhaps that suit of armor had value after all.”
He fell quiet, caught in the past. My curiosity stirred, sharp and insistent, urging me to explore that thread, to uncover the memory more fully. Either through questions…or through the far more dangerous temptation of reaching out and brushing one of his belongings with my power…an impulse that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
My gaze dropped, unbidden, to the signet ring adorning his hand. The metal gleamed softly in the torchlight, as if inviting me to reach out. I could do it—just a single touch, one fleeting glimpse into the secrets he was hiding.
I stepped closer before I could stop myself. Not enough to draw notice, just enough that I could reach him, if I chose. My fingers shifted at my side, betraying the impulse before I could still them. The distance between us suddenly felt far too small, close enough that it would take almost nothing to close it completely.
His voice broke the silence, quieter now. “Careful.”
Panic momentarily flared—had he discovered my ability to draw out memories? When I looked up, his gaze was no longer distant but had sharpened, focused not on my face but on my hand. For a fleeting moment, neither of us moved.
