Love wasn't supposed to feel like this.
Like a revolution. Like stolen kisses between sword fights. Like sharing a single spoon because the palace only gave Arian one.
But here they were: two fugitives of the crown, half-naked, half-famous, and completely tangled in destiny.
And also very tangled in each other.
That Morning… in the Royal Guest Quarters
Arian woke up to find Elara sitting cross-legged in bed, wearing nothing but one of his shirts and a crown she clearly stole from a decorative statue.
"I have an idea," she said.
"That sentence never ends well," he replied, rubbing his eyes.
"I'm going to propose to you. Publicly."
He blinked. "I'm sorry—did I sleep through gender equality?"
She grinned. "No, I'm flipping the script. If I propose, it says I choose. Not duty. Not tradition. Me."
"You're serious?"
"I'm wearing a stolen crown and nothing else, Arian. Do I look like I'm joking?"
He stared.
Then slowly grinned.
"I'll marry the hell out of you."
Meanwhile… in the Queen's Solar
Queen Seraphina examined a scroll sealed in black wax.
It was from Westerholt.
From King Thorne.
She broke the seal and read.
Then handed it to Lina with a single word: "Read."
Lina read aloud, dramatically, because she could.
> "To the Kingdom of Alveria, If the Princess is not wed to Prince Cassian within three days, Westerholt will consider the betrothal broken—and a betrayal of alliance. We will retaliate with force."
Lina whistled. "That's spicy."
The Queen stood. "They want war?"
She smiled faintly.
"Let them come."
Meanwhile… Lina Becomes a General (Somehow)
By midafternoon, Lina had:
Stolen a guard uniform.
Commissioned a "war wig" from the court stylist.
Appointed herself Acting General of Romance Affairs.
"How?" Elara asked as she watched Lina draw a battle plan on a cake platter.
"Bribes, cleavage, and boldness," Lina answered. "I even gave myself a title: Commander of Clandestine Operations."
"You don't know anything about warfare."
"I know how to distract a man with a sword," she winked. "And that's half the battle."
That Night… The Proposal
The ballroom was packed again.
Elara stood on the royal staircase in a gown of midnight velvet, hair braided with sapphires, eyes blazing.
She walked straight to Arian, who was standing (horribly uncomfortable) in formal wear, looking like a rogue who got dragged into a fairytale.
"I have a question," she said loudly.
He turned to her, surprised.
She dropped to one knee.
Gasps. Gasps everywhere. The duchess of Evermont fainted flat into a servant's soup.
"Elara—" Arian began, eyes wide.
"Shush. I'm being iconic." She pulled out a silver ring with a single emerald.
"I've kissed you under stars, lied for you, risked my title, and ignored my mother. That's real love."
The court collectively died.
"So marry me," she said. "And let's burn the rulebook together."
He knelt too, kissed her right there on the palace floor, and whispered, "Yes. Always yes."
The Queen's Surprise
Later, in the royal war room…
The Queen stood over a table covered in maps and intel.
"We don't have time for a wedding," Elara said. "Westerholt will invade in days."
"You're not wrong," said the Queen.
Then she turned.
And handed Elara a sword.
"I never wanted you to marry Cassian," Seraphina said quietly. "I wanted to see if you'd fight for your crown."
Elara's jaw dropped.
"You let all this happen—?"
"I planned half of it."
A beat.
"You're a monster," Elara said.
The Queen smiled. "I'm a mother. Now go. Be the queen I raised you to be."
Midnight: The Escape Plan
With war hours away, Elara and Arian needed to disappear—for one night, one last moment before everything burned.
So, naturally, Lina faked an assassination attempt using jam, red paint, and a poorly taxidermied squirrel.
"GO!" she shrieked, slapping jam on the marble. "I'll hold them off!"
They slipped out a side gate.
Rode into the forest.
And fell into a hidden glade where moonlight spilled over the trees like magic.
The Glade: One Last Night
Elara dismounted, dress torn, eyes wild.
Arian pulled her to him.
And the world faded.
No thrones. No swords. No kingdoms.
Just heat and heartbeats and hands that knew each other too well.
He kissed her like he was memorizing her.
She moaned against his mouth, fingers in his hair, hips pressing into his.
He laid her down in the grass, stars overhead.
And made love to her like it might be the last time.
It was all heat and ache and whispered promises.
A battle of mouths.
A victory of skin.
When it was over, she lay on his chest, heart racing.
"I love you," she whispered.
He smiled into her hair.
"We win tomorrow. Or we die trying."
Meanwhile… Cassian Makes His Move
On the horizon, sails appeared.
Westerholt had arrived.
War drums thundered in the distance.
And Cassian smiled darkly from the prow of his ship.
"Let's take back what's mine."