The Princess The King Desire

Hazel's POV It has been a week now since we left the castle for the big field. It’s for the royal camp out. Once every summer, all the kings and queens from the neighboring kingdoms, including their children, come here. We set up tents, light fires, hunt, and pretend for seven days that we are not enemies in silk. We get to meet new faces. We get to play. We get to breathe. Today is the last day of the royal camp out. It’s night now, and torches are already being put out. Soon, the carriages will roll, and we’ll be returning to the cold stone of the castle. “Clara, pack my bags quickly. I don’t want to find anything missing back there,” “Yes, my Princess.” I watched Elizabeth give orders to her personal maids while she went back to her velvet seat to check the mirror for the tenth time. She’s been like this all week. Perfect hair. Perfect posture. Perfect cruelty. I went into my tent to pack my things, but then I remembered. I’d left my hat at the base of the old oak tree earlier today. The plain one with the faded ribbon. It’s the only thing my mother gave me before she left. I stepped out to get it, but I was stopped at the tent flap. “Where are you headed to?” Amelia. She is the second daughter of my father. She has his eyes and his talent for looking through people. “I want to retrieve something I forgot.” She scanned me from head to toe, from my dusty boots to my plain dress. “And how am I sure you’re not running off to meet the son of Duke Bellingham?” What. “No. I just want to retrieve something I left at the base of the tree in the woods. I’ll be back in a minute.” I said that and bypassed her. “Huh. If you like it, then get lost. Who cares?” She scoffed and flipped her braid over her shoulder. I’m the illegitimate child of my father, King Edward. He already had a wife and two daughters before he met my mother and disappeared for a season. My mom found out he was married and decided not to go after him. She raised me alone in a small cottage at the edge of the village. But when she realized she had a terminal disease, she had no choice. She brought me to the castle gates and left me there with a letter and this hat. I haven’t seen my mom, Elena, since that day. My father doesn’t even look at my face. Maybe he loathes me. Maybe he’s ashamed. He lets his wife and children mistreat me because it’s easier than admitting I exist. But I know one thing. I won’t remain with them forever. I will “Ahh… Huh.” A sound interrupts my thoughts. That’s when I realized I’d arrived at the oak tree. The woods were quiet except for crickets and the wind through the leaves. “Who’s there?” I said that and picked up a thick stick from the ground. “Huh… Ahh.” The sound came from behind the tree. It sounded like a man’s voice. Low. Pained. I walked forward, heart pounding, still holding the stick. I peeked around the trunk and saw a man on the ground, badly wounded. Moonlight spilled over him. “Sir, are you okay?” He didn’t respond. I went closer, my bare feet silent on the grass. He was clutching his stomach. Dark blood was seeping between his fingers. I crouched down to see his wounds better. “Huh. It’s really serious. Wait here, I’ll be back.” I rushed into the bushes to get herbs. My mother taught me a few before she got sick. Yarrow to stop bleeding. Plantain for pain. Thank goodness for the moonlight shining so bright tonight. Without it, I’d be blind out here. I rushed back to the man and crushed the leaves in my palms until green juice ran down my fingers. “Remove your hand. Let me apply the herb.” His head was still bent as he grunted in pain. I tried to move his hand, but his other hand shot out and caught my wrist. His grip was iron, even hurt like this. I looked at his face. Oh. I hadn’t looked at his face earlier. He is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. His eyes were golden, like melted honey in firelight. His hair was silver, long, and tangled with leaves. Wait. Silver. Where did I read about that? In the old stories Grandpa used to tell me. His nose was sharp and straight. And he had a jawline that could cut glass. “Are you done gawking at me now?” He spoke for the first time. His voice was deep, rough from pain. Wait. I guess I had been staring for too long. My cheeks burned. “Huh, let me help you.” His eyes dropped to my herb-stained hands, then back up to my face. “With what?” Huh. So many questions for a dying man. “Let me apply the herbs to you to stop the bleeding.” “Do you know what this is?” “I don’t know much about herbs, but I know this one. It’ll help.” He studied me for a long moment. Weighing me, I think. Then he finally replied, “Okay.” He let go of my wrist and removed his other hand from his wound. Oh. Too bloody. I swallowed. I know I don’t like seeing blood. I fainted the last time I saw a butchered chicken. But I’ll do it now to save a life. I pressed the crushed herbs to the gash. He didn’t even wince. Not once. Then I tore the hem of my skirt and wrapped the cloth tightly around his stomach to keep the herbs in place. “There. All done.” He looked down at the makeshift bandage, then back at me. He sat up slowly, like every movement cost him. “What is your name?” Really? That’s what he asks? “I’m not allowed to tell my name to strangers.” I stood up to get my hat from the low branch, but I couldn’t reach it. The branch was too high. I guess I’d have to climb. I jumped and jumped, but couldn’t reach it. The man watched with an amused expression. One corner of his mouth lifted. “Huh. Such a struggle.” “Hahaha.” I heard him chuckle darkly. He had a deep baritone voice that made the air vibrate. “What? I’m clearly frustrated here and you’re laughing, huh?” He watched as I tried to reach it again, failing miserably. “Tell me your name and I’ll get it for you.” I turned to him, hands on my hips. “Really? With an injured body you’re going to climb up?” He turned to the other side like he was bored. “Fine then. I presume you have the strength to climb.” Oh no. I really wanted my hat back. It’s all I have of her. “Okay, fine. I’m Hazel.” “Hazel who?” “Hazel Edward.” He shifted in his position to look at me properly. His golden eyes narrowed. “You’re King Edward’s daughter?” He looked at me again, like he was seeing me for the first time. “I know you’re not going to believe that. But first, get my hat down.” He looked at me again. “Okay.” “I know you’re not that tall, so you can follow this way to get the… wow.” I looked up at his towering figure as he stood. He was tall. Broad-shouldered. Every muscle defined under moonlight. “Wow. Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” He looked at me in amusement. “Wait. You haven’t realized I was shirtless all along?” Oh. I was really going crazy these days. Blood and stress, probably. “Just get my hat. I need to leave.” He reached up effortlessly and plucked the hat from the branch. He walked back to me and placed it gently on my head. His fingers brushed my hair. “It’s yours.” “Okay. Bye. I have to go now.” I turned to leave, but froze. A group of men in dark armor were surrounding us. Silent. Fast. Like shadows. One dressed in all black walked up to the man and whispered something in his ear. The man’s jaw tightened. Oh. He might be dangerous. Why didn’t I guess that sooner? I picked up my stick again and started moving backward toward the path I came from. One of the men stepped forward and tried to grab my arm. “Don’t come any closer.” He ignored me and reached for me. “Don’t touch her. Let her go.” I looked at the silver-haired man. His voice was quiet but it cracked like a whip. He sounded… possessive. The man holding me let go immediately and stepped back. “Good night, Hazel,” the silver-haired man said. His eyes locked on mine. “We shall meet again.” I didn’t reply. I ran. My heart was in my throat as I sprinted back toward the camp lights. “Oh my God.” I couldn’t imagine that I almost got into trouble. What if he was an assassin? What if he was a monster from the stories? A maid barged into my tent without warning, making me jump. “The Queen orders you to come out soon. We are about to depart.” She left without waiting for my reply. They usually do that. Nobody here treats me nicely, except Grandpa, the Queen’s father. He slips me books sometimes. And my maid, Eva. I take her as my sister. They didn’t let me bring her to the camp. I packed my remaining things with shaking hands and left the tent. I entered the carriage meant for the royal family, but then... “Leave this carriage.” Elizabeth said it without even looking up from her fan. I ignored her and looked out of the window. “Are you ignoring me? I said leave the carriage.” I turned to her. My voice was tired. “Elizabeth, what is your problem? Which carriage should I use if I leave this one?” The Queen, Roseline, looked at me with her mischievous, pitying eyes. The kind that cuts deeper than insults. “You can use the one meant for the maids.” I looked at my father. “Father, you’ll let this happen?” He didn’t look at me. He stared straight ahead. “Then do it. You can always manage.” What? Really? That’s all I am to him? “You heard that. You can always manage. Now leave. You don’t have a place here,” Amelia added with a sweet smile. Those words weren’t new to me. I’ve heard them in different forms for fifteen years. I quietly got out and went to the maids’ carriage. It smelled like hay and sweat. They all laughed at me as I climbed in, but I didn’t mind them. I’ve endured worse. The carriage rolled off with a jerk, and I looked out the small window. In the distance, past the trees, I could feel it. The eyes of the stranger from earlier were resting on this carriage. Watching. I don’t know him. I don’t know his name. I don’t know why he was bleeding in the woods. But when he said “We shall meet again.. I believed him. And for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t scared of what came next.