Oscar stayed where he was, half-swallowed by shadow and smoke, the ground still warm beneath him. The fire had done its job. From where he crouched, he could hear shouting ripple across the fields—men barking orders, others panicking, boots pounding dirt in every direction except the one that mattered.
"Good." He smiled with satisfaction.
As dealers scrambled to save crops that were already lost, his thoughts drifted—unbidden, persistent—to the girl at the center of all this noise.
Princess Stephanie would be preparing for the gala now. Silk pulled tight around her ribs. Jewels heavy at her throat. A practiced smile ready to be worn like armor. Oscar tried to imagine what was running through her head at this exact moment. Was she standing before a mirror, wondering if tonight was the last time she'd ever see those walls from the inside? Was her stomach fluttering with fear—or with relief?
Probably both.
Running away wasn't just romance. It was treason with better intentions. He knew what it meant to take a kingdom's princess and vanish into the world. Knights would ride. Bounties would be whispered. Alliances would strain and snap. He wondered—briefly, honestly—how many lives might bend or break because of the choice they were about to make.
Then he exhaled.
Some cages were prettier than others. That didn't make them any less real.
His mind moved, as it always did, to routes. Fast ones. Quiet ones. Paths that didn't exist on official maps anymore—sealed drainage corridors beneath old keeps, forgotten pilgrim roads swallowed by forest, a river bend so narrow boats had long stopped using it. He cataloged them all, fitting possibilities together like pieces of a puzzle only he could see.
Thinking this hard made him want a blunt.
His fingers twitched toward his coat before he caught himself. Not yet. Tonight needed clarity, not comfort. He pushed the craving aside just as another shout rose from the fields—someone screaming about warehouses, about guards not answering.
Smoke thickened the air, sweet and acrid all at once.
That smell dragged his thoughts backward, to earlier that day and a quiet, calculated gamble.
Plan two.
He hadn't stormed into the Adventurers' Guild or made demands. He'd simply talked. A comment here. A confirmation there. The location of a massive illegal grow, spoken with just enough certainty to sound valuable and just enough vagueness to avoid blame. Adventurers hated syndicates that cut into their territory. Syndicates despised anyone who threatened profit.
When they collided, neither side would stop to ask why.
That distance—between criminals and sellswords—was what he was counting on. Confusion bought time. Time bought freedom.
He shifted slightly, eyes tracking movement near the perimeter. No one was looking his way.
Perfect.
****
Earlier that same day, the Kingdom Knight Headquarters buzzed with restrained urgency.
Arthur Highgarden stepped into his uncle's office, armor polished despite the faint tremor in his hands. He'd slept little—not because of many, many orders, but because rest felt like failure. Proving himself had become a bad habit these days.
Commander Cedric Highgarden looked up from his desk, his expression softening only a fraction. "You look exhausted."
"I'm fine," Arthur said, straight-backed. "We received confirmation from the Adventurers' Guild."
Cedric took the report, eyes scanning quickly. His jaw tightened. "Hidden well. Larger than expected." Cedric scowled.
"Yes, sir." Arthur replied.
Cedric leaned back, exhaling slowly. "Of all nights."
Arthur hesitated. "We could deploy a small unit. Quietly lead by-."
"No," Cedric said firmly. "The gala brings too many eyes. One incident tonight and the courts will eat itself alive."
Arthur nodded, in understanding, "Then what are we going to do about the lack of forces, sir?" He continued.
"And if I may ask ,who will leading the operation for the princess s security detail night?" He asked trying to keep tension out of his tone.
The pause told him everything.
"Already assigned the lieutenant" Cedric said. "Rowan Highgarden will lead the princess's guard."
Arthur's throat tightened. Rowan—his cousin—never hid his interest in Princess Stephanie. Where Arthur kept his feelings buried and unnamed, Rowan wore his openly, confident and unashamed.
Arthur had never told anyone about the moment he'd first seen her and felt something quiet and irreversible settle in his chest.
"I see," Arthur said.He forced himself to ask, "Who's forming the teams for the fields?"
"You are," Cedric replied without hesitation. "You're reliable. More than you think."he said " Be sure to make plenty of arrest and burn those fields down."
Arthur bowed his head. "Yes, sir."
As he turned to leave, his gaze caught on a potted plant by the window—a gift from his mother years ago. Healthy. Thriving. The thought slipped in before he could stop it: I'd rather nurture something than burn it.
He pushed the thought down and walked out.
****
Princess Stephanie Goldenleaf sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed, smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling. The distant hum of the gala floated up through stone and glass—music, laughter, ambition dressed in velvet.
She took a slow pull and let it out carefully.
A knock at the door made her flinch.
"Come-," she said.
Prince Elias entered without waiting, wearing that same smug grin he always had when he knew he was about to be unbearable. "So," he said, looking around her room, "ready to be married off?"
She didn't rise to it. "Say that again and I'll throw you out the window."
He laughed and leaned against a chair. "I'm serious. What are you going to do with this place once you're gone? I'm thinking of turning it into a game room." he said gauging her reaction.
She lit another blunt.
Elias immediately coughed, eyes watering. "Stars—do you have to do that now?"
"Yes." blowing a big fat circle of smoke towards him in hopes he'd leave.
"Father hates it that stuff so much," he said scattereding the ring of smoke with wave of his hand.
"That's not my problem." Blowing another redoubling her efforts.
He squinted at her through the haze. "Why do you even like it?"
She considered him for a moment. "Because it makes the noise stop."
"What noise?" Asking puzzled.
"The kind that tells you what you owe the world." She said.
He frowned. "Does it feel good?"
"For a while it differs every strain." She said.
"Can I try?" Asking so casually.
She laughed softly. "No."
"Why not?" Disappointment on his face.
"Because you can't even handle the smoke in the room," she said, gesturing as he coughed again, wiping tears from his eyes.
He scowled. "You're impossible."
"Alive," she corrected gently.
Her gaze drifted toward the window, beyond gardens and walls and watchful towers. Somewhere out there, Oscar was risking everything. The thought made her heart race—fear braided tightly with excitement.
"I hope you're ready," Elias muttered. "Once you're married, things won't be like this."
She smiled thinly. "I know."
****
Back in the fields, the shouting reached a fever pitch. Torches swung wildly. Orders contradicted one another. Somewhere, a horn sounded and cut off abruptly.
Oscar rose smoothly, melting deeper into shadow as the fire continued to roar behind him. The blaze was a promise—distraction, distance, time.
****
Inside the palace, beneath gold and crystal, the king laughed at something the queen said.
Then his smile faltered.
"Where is my daughter?" he asked.
No one answered right away.
Smoke climbed into the sky, and the night edged closer to breaking.