"Okay, it's not what you think. The princess is not like that," Straw said as she walked toward the couch. Her steps were slower than usual, careful, measured. She lowered herself onto the cushion and leaned back, exhaling as if the simple act of sitting had taken effort. One hand remained pressed lightly against her neck, fingers curled there instinctively, as though she was afraid the pain might surge again if she let go. The ache was still there, dull but present, pulsing faintly beneath her skin. Pine noticed it immediately.
"Oh, the princess isn't like that," he said, his tone exaggerated, theatrical. He tilted his head and mimicked her voice in a high, mocking pitch. Then he straightened, his expression shifting as he dropped the act and returned to his own voice. "Have you not heard the stories about the royals, lady?"
Straw sighed and shifted on the cushion, the fabric creasing beneath her weight. She let her hand fall briefly from her neck before lifting it again, rubbing her skin absentmindedly. "Well, I did hear one that she was ugly," she said, glancing away, "but it turned out she's the most beautiful person. Rumours are just made up."
Pine scoffed softly and paced a step away, then back again, as if the words themselves irritated him. "I don't know about the ugly one," he said, shaking his head, "but you're the one who believes rumours so seriously. Everybody knows it." He paused, letting the silence hang. "Even though it's not often said, everyone knows the royals are madly dangerous and unpredictable."
He stopped pacing and looked directly at her neck.
"You wouldn't have that bruise on your neck if you didn't act strangely," he continued, his voice quieter now, more grounded. "And by now, we would be home, living our normal daily lives."
Straw lifted her chin slightly, defensive, though the motion made her wince. "Well, you were the one who brought me here in the first place," she said. "With the purpose of wanting to marry the princess while I married the king. You wanted a royal baby."
Pine let out a breath that sounded halfway between a laugh and a groan. "That was your idea to begin with," he replied. He turned toward the table and picked up the paper lying there, tapping it once against his palm. "Look."
He unfolded it and held it up between them. "Your marriage to the princess is not yet legalized. According to the law, there must be signatures from both parties and two witnesses from both sides. It requires my signature." He lowered the paper slightly, watching her reaction. "Without it, you can use this to break free from this hell of a marriage, and we get to go home and think of other things to do."
Straw reached out and took the paper from him. The parchment felt cool against her fingers. She read slowly, her eyes scanning each line, her brow furrowing slightly.
"Really?" she said after a moment. "Why wasn't this mentioned that day?" Her gaze lifted back to him. "So the princess and I aren't officially married?"
"Yes, sister," Pine said, nodding. "You can tear it and let's leave this city and the royals."
Straw didn't answer right away. She stared at the paper, her grip tightening just a little. Pine watched her carefully, hope flickering across his face as he waited. He was already imagining it, her tearing the parchment in half, the two of them leaving together, the city shrinking behind them.
Instead, Straw reached for the ink pen. She picked it up calmly and placed it into Pine's hand.
"Okay," she said, tapping the paper with her finger. "I think this is where you sign. You sign here and here."
Pine froze. His face dropped, the hope draining away in an instant. "Are you really serious, sister?" he asked, disbelief thick in his voice. "Marriage is not child's play." He gestured around the room. "Look at the way you're being treated here. This is not how we are meant to live."
He stepped closer, urgency rising. "Here, we are nothing more than pawns in their madness. But in Eastside, we are our own queens, living a free will lifestyle. You get to throw banquets and dance with your playboys, while I handle matters of the city and play Duke."
Straw listened without interrupting. Her expression barely changed. She didn't argue, didn't frown, didn't even sigh. She just sat there, still, as if his words were passing through her without finding anything to cling to.
Seeing her like that unsettled him. Pine studied her face, searching for something familiar. He began to wonder if his sister had been enchanted by someone or something. The thought crept in uninvited. He would have said she wasn't his sister at all, if not for the unmistakable resemblance. The same eyes. The same mouth. The same small crease between her brows when she thought too hard. So what went wrong?
"Are you and Mother cooking up some kind of plan without me?" he asked plainly, meeting her gaze.
"No," Straw said. "Just sign it. Trust me." Her voice softened slightly. "I really want this. Please do this one thing for me."
Pine hesitated. He looked down at the pen in his hand, then back at her face. After a long moment, he sighed and leaned over the table. He signed.
"There," he said, handing the paper back to her. "Just so you know, I'm not leaving this city without you. And if none of us leave, our mother will come and take us home."
Straw accepted the paper and folded it carefully. "Okay, that's settled," she said. She looked up at him. "What have you been doing for the past few days, brother?"
"Being a pig," Pine replied flatly.
Straw opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but before she could speak, the door opened.
Apple walked into the room.
"Hello, King," Straw said, lifting her hand in a small wave.
"I am not talking to you, chocolate pudding thief," Apple replied without hesitation.
Straw rolled her eyes. "I should be the one not talking to you after what you did to me."
Pine immediately straightened and stepped forward, bowing. "Good day, Your Majesty," he greeted respectfully.
"Good day to you, Duke Pine," Apple said brightly. "Or should I say my brother in law?" He stepped in and pulled Pine into a hug, patting his back. "I like happy families. Do you want to share my afternoon mealtime with me?"
"Oh, it's time. Let's go," Straw said, pushing herself up from the couch.
"Oh no, not you, chocolate pudding thief," Apple said, holding up a hand. "You broke our deal. You were supposed to have breakfast at the dining table, but instead you did your breakfast in bed thing. So you should go and eat your lunch on your bed."
"I didn't have breakfast because I thought the princess was still mad at me," Straw said quickly, "and she was the one who brought the food to my room and…" She stopped mid sentence.
Apple's eyes had landed on her neck. Straw followed his gaze and touched it instinctively. "It's nothing," she said. "I ran into Prince Vinegario and maybe made him angry."
Before she could say anything else, Apple turned sharply and went to the door. He spoke to a guard outside in a low, urgent voice. Moments later, the guard returned with a scarf.
Apple took it and stepped back toward Straw. Without asking, he wrapped it gently around her neck, careful not to hurt her.
"Oh, sister in law, on behalf of my uncle, I apologize," he said softly as he adjusted the fabric. "Okay, that won't be visible." He looked up at her, his expression suddenly earnest. "Please don't let my little sister see the bruise on your neck."
He hesitated, then added, almost pleading, "No matter what, until the bruise fades, she mustn't see your neck."
"Okay," Straw said.
But that was almost impossible, because Berry loved kissing her neck.