Princess Sara sat curled up on the plush bed of the guest dormitory, her silver-blonde braids mussed from restless tossing.
In her small hands, she clutched the one treasure she'd never let anyone see—a handkerchief embroidered with silver lilies, its edges frayed from years of secret clutching.
Her whisper cracked like thin ice, her rose-gold eyes swollen from crying.
She remembered why she'd been given this handkerchief—she'd been six years old, sobbing in the palace gardens because the other noble children and siblings had mocked her for tripping during an important ceremony.
"Silly girl," they'd sneered. "Princesses don't stumble."
But her mother had found her, kneeling in the dirt without care for her silk skirts. She'd wiped Sara's tears with her thumbs, warm and gentle.
"Listen well, my little star," Mother had said, pressing the handkerchief into her hands. "Real princesses aren't perfect—they're brave. And brave hearts cry sometimes too. When you need me, hold this tight, and remember..."
Sara squeezed the fabric now, just like she had then. It didn't smell like lilies anymore, but if she closed her eyes, she could almost feel her mother's arms around her.
The nightmare had brought it all back—Mother's fever-bright eyes in her sickbed, the way her voice had grown weaker each day until—
She jammed her fists against her eyelids. She wouldn't think about that part.
Instead, her mind skittered to the other awful memory—the kidnapping. Waking to shouts, seeing masked figures, the glint of a dagger flying straight at her the moment she woke up—
Through the fluttering black fabric wrapped around her, she'd seen him.
That boy. The new shop's manager.
He'd fought like the knights in Mother's stories—the ones who battled monsters to save princesses even when bleeding and outnumbered. Moonlight had turned his messy hair silver as he moved, dodging, striking, getting knocked down and getting back up.
When the masked man had stabbed him, she'd nearly screamed.
When he'd finally won, she fainted once again, perhaps from too much shock and emotions.
She had woken again—this time to hushed voices.
Through her lashes, she saw him—the boy who had fought like a storybook knight—standing beside another boy with silver hair and piercing eyes that made her want to hide under the blankets.
Don't notice me. Please don't notice me.
Thankfully, he didn't notice her being awake and left. But the scary guy did, he found out at one glance. So she made him promise not to tell her savior about it.
"You won't tell him, will you?"
The memory of her own whisper made her toes curl now. She'd sounded so small.
But he'd agreed. (Or at least, he hadn't disagreed, which with him was practically a vow.)
Sara flopped onto her back, the handkerchief pressed to her burning face.
She'd meant to be dignified. To stride up and deliver a proper royal thank-you, crisp and flawless.
Instead, she'd frozen like a startled rabbit when she saw him in the library—slouched over some massive book, his hair messy from running fingers through it, his gray eyes so focused they seemed to glow.
She'd stood there like an idiot, watching him turn pages, until—
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Your Highness?"
His voice had startled her so badly she'd nearly yelped. And then—
That was it. That was all she'd managed before fleeing like the castle hounds were after her.
Pathetic. A good princess doesn't act like that. Her mother said that.
He probably thinks I'm a bad princess...
The sharp knock at the door startled Sara upright.
"W-Who is it?" she called, hastily wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Princess," came the muffled voice of her guard. "His Highness requests your presence immediately."
"Y-Yes! I'll be ready shortly!"
As the guard's footsteps retreated, Sara let out a shaky breath. She splashed cold water on her face, scrubbing away any trace of tears.
Why is big brother summoning me now?
He'd said they wouldn't leave until tomorrow—had something happened?
With Lannete leading the way, she walked through the guest dormitory's halls, her slippers whispering against the marble floors. When they reached the designated meeting room, Sara barely waited for the door to open fully before stepping inside—
She saw a familiar figure standing there instead of her brother, her eyes crinkling with amusement.
All thoughts of nightmares and awkward encounters vanished as Sara launched herself forward, crashing into Cassandra's waiting arms. The big sister Cassie laughed, her embrace firm and comforting, just like her dear mother's.
"Hello, your highness," Cassandra murmured, smoothing Sara's mussed braids. "Did you miss me?"
Sara nodded frantically, her braids bouncing. "Yes! I really missed you! Why didn't you come to the ball? I was really scared and alone."
Cassandra's lips curved into her usual sheepish smile—the one that always made Sara forgive her instantly. "Sorry, princess. You know how I've been buried in that new project. I couldn't get away."
The princess buried her face in Cassandra's chest again. She felt Cassandra's fingers gently comb through her hair, the rhythmic motion soothing her frayed nerves.
Over Cassandra's shoulder, Sara caught Lannete watching them with soft eyes. The knight gave Cassandra a barely perceptible nod—some silent understanding passing between them.
"Princess," Cassandra murmured, pulling back just enough to meet Sara's rose-gold eyes, "do you want to leave with me?"
Sara's breath caught. "Y-You aren't lying, right?"
Cassandra's smile deepened, warm and sure. "Of course not. This time, I'll keep my promise. If you want, we can go right away."
"Yes! Yes—" Sara's excitement faltered. "But... w-what about big brother?"
"Already handled," Cassandra said, smoothing Sara's rumpled sleeve. "I spoke with him earlier. He agreed you'd be safer with me for now."
Lannete stepped forward, her armor clinking softly. "It's true, Your Highness. His Majesty approved the arrangement."
Sara's heart fluttered like a caged bird suddenly set free. "Umm... then, l-let's go."
Cassandra chuckled. "Then gather your things. We'll leave immediately."
With one last squeeze, Sara darted from the room, her footsteps light for the first time in days. Lannete followed after right as she should.
The moment the door clicked shut, Cassandra's smile faded.
Alone now, she exhaled slowly, running a hand through her hair. A strange glint flickered in her eyes—something between gratitude and grim resignation.
"I owe him once again," she whispered to the empty room. "We both do..."