ARIELLA'S POV
Crosshaven is overwhelming.
We reach the trading town by noon, exhausted and bloodied but alive. The moment we pass through the gates, I'm assaulted by noise, smell, color—thousands of people crammed into streets that wind like veins through the sprawling marketplace.
I've never seen so many people in one place. Never heard this much noise. Never smelled this particular combination of unwashed bodies, cooking food, animal dung, and something sweet I can't identify.
"Stay close," Rhys murmurs, pulling me into the crowd. "And for once, try to look less like displaced royalty."
"I'm trying."
"Try harder. You're walking like someone just insulted your honor."
I force my spine to relax, my chin to lower. It feels wrong—twenty-three years of posture training screaming that I'm doing everything incorrectly. But Rhys is right. I need to blend in.
He leads me to a stall selling travel clothes, trading silver for practical leather and dark fabric. Nothing like the silk gowns I wore in Luminara. Everything designed to be unremarkable.
"Change," he says, handing me the bundle. "Behind that wagon. I'll keep watch."
I change quickly, self-conscious even hidden behind the wagon. The leather is stiff, the fabric rough against skin used to fine weaving. But when I emerge, Rhys nods approvingly.
"Better. Now braid your hair. That silver-and-black combination is too distinctive."
I weave my hair into a simple braid, tucking it under a hood. When I'm done, Rhys studies me critically.
"Good enough. We split up—I'll hit the alchemist for supplies, you get food and basic gear from the general market. Meet back here in an hour."
"Split up?" My stomach tightens. "Is that wise?"
"We cover more ground faster. And honestly, you need to learn to navigate without me hovering." His expression softens slightly. "You can do this, Ariella. Just keep your head down and your curse buried."
Before I can argue, he's gone, disappearing into the crowd with practiced ease.
I'm alone.
Completely, utterly alone in a city full of strangers.
For one moment, panic threatens. Then I take a breath, square my shoulders, and start walking.
The market is chaos given form. Vendors shout prices, children dart between legs, animals bleat and squawk from pens. But beneath the chaos, there's life happening—real, messy, ungoverned life.
I find myself fascinated despite the fear.
A street vendor offers me grilled meat on a stick. I buy it with copper coins, and the first bite is greasy and far too salty and possibly the best thing I've ever tasted. Because no one told me I couldn't have it. No one monitored my diet or judged my choices.
It's just food. Simple. Real.
I wander deeper into the market, gathering supplies from a list Rhys gave me. The merchants barely look at me—just take my coin and move to the next customer. No ceremony. No recognition.
I'm nobody here.
The freedom is intoxicating and terrifying in equal measure.
Then I notice the woman following me.
She's trying to be subtle—keeping distance, pretending to browse goods—but I've been trained to spot threats. Her eyes track me too consistently, her position always maintaining line of sight.
A hunter.
My heart hammers. I change direction casually, ducking between stalls, trying to lose her in the crowd.
Bad idea. The crowd thins as I move away from the main market, and now I'm more visible, not less.
I spot a tavern ahead and make a decision—dive inside, hide among the patrons, wait for her to pass.
The tavern is dim and crowded, smelling of ale and unwashed bodies. I find a corner table and sink into the shadows, pulling my hood lower.
That's when I hear the conversation at the next table.
"—huge bounty from the Elf Realm. Shadow-corrupted princess, they're calling her."
My blood goes cold.
"Dead or alive?" another voice asks.
"Alive preferred, but dead's acceptable. They're offering enough gold to retire on."
"What's she look like?"
"Silver hair streaked black, shadow marks on her skin. Traveling with a dark wizard, apparently. Both dangerous."
I can't breathe. Can't move. The curse responds to my panic, shadows starting to leak from my clenched fists under the table.
No. Not now. Not here.
I force the shadows back through sheer will, but they resist, testing boundaries, wanting freedom.
The hunter enters the tavern.
Her eyes scan the room systematically, and I know the moment she spots me—her gaze locks on, recognition flashing across her face.
She starts toward my table.
I'm trapped. Can't run without drawing more attention. Can't fight without revealing exactly what I am.
Then a hand slides around my waist from behind.
Rhys.
He pulls me up and into him in one smooth motion, his lips brushing my temple in a gesture that looks intimate, casual, completely natural.
"There you are, darling," he says loudly enough for nearby tables to hear. "I've been looking everywhere."
The hunter hesitates, reassessing. Just a couple. Nothing suspicious. The woman she's hunting wouldn't be wrapped in a man's arms, wouldn't be leaning into his touch like...
Like I am.
Rhys guides me toward the door with one arm still around my waist, maintaining the charade. The hunter watches but doesn't follow.
We make it outside, around a corner, three blocks away before he releases me.
I'm shaking.
"Breathe," Rhys says quietly. "You're safe. I've got you."
"She was a hunter. Looking for me specifically." The words tumble out. "There's a bounty. The Elf Realm posted a bounty—"
"I know. I heard the same thing at the alchemist." His expression is grim. "Dead or alive, substantial gold. You're worth more than most people earn in a lifetime."
The reality crashes over me. I'm being hunted for profit now, not just by my people but by anyone desperate or greedy enough to try.
"And the Guild is looking for you too," I say, remembering. "Two bounties. We're twice as visible traveling together."
"Yeah." He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Which means we move faster, stay in smaller settlements, and pray we reach the mountains before serious hunters catch up."
"Rhys—"
"We're not splitting up." His voice is firm. "I know what you're thinking, and no. We survive together or not at all. That's not changing."
Part of me wants to argue. Wants to insist he'd be safer without me, that my curse makes me too dangerous, too visible.
But the larger part—the part that felt his arm around my waist, his lips on my temple, the solid presence of him keeping me grounded—doesn't want to be alone again.
"Come on," he says, softer now. "Let's get out of this town before our luck runs out completely."
We leave Crosshaven through a side gate, avoiding the main roads. Behind us, I hear the hunter shouting, organizing a search.
But we're already gone, disappearing into the countryside like ghosts.
And I can't stop thinking about how natural it felt to lean into Rhys's embrace.
How much I wanted it to be real instead of just survival.