The Fallen Princess

Thirteen

The prince’s caravan finally pushed through the last dense stretch of forest they had been travelling in for what felt like ages. One moment they were swallowed in dim shadow beneath thick canopy, the smell of pine and damp earth heavy around them and the next…

The trees thinned. Sunlight spilled across open terrain. And a breathtaking little town revealed itself like a painting being unveiled. Stone cottages lined a winding cobblestone road, their windows glowing with warm amber light. Wisps of smoke curled lazily from chimneys to fend off the mountain chill.

The early evening breeze carried the scent of burning firewood, mingling with the distant sound of laughter. Endless farmland stretched outward in rolling green waves. Beyond it... so far it almost seemed unreal... rose a magnificent castle carved into pale stone, perched against a chain of towering, snowcapped mountains.

Its spires gleamed faintly in the fading sunlight. Zaria stared, breath caught in her throat. She had never seen anything so vast, so open, so alive.

“It won’t be long now, little elf,” Prince Callen said beside her, his tone gentler than usual. She heard it... the exhaustion tugging at the edges of his voice. The journey had weighed on him heavily, even if he hid it well.

The caravan slowed before a rustic stone lodge. It was sturdy and weathered by time, ivy climbing its walls, lanterns glowing warmly beside the door. Arrangements were made quickly. Higher-ranking knights and Callen would stay inside while the rest set up camp across the wide field.

Callen slid one strong arm around Zaria’s waist and lifted her effortlessly from the horse. She barely reacted anymore. She had grown accustomed to the casual strength with which he handled her, the natural ease of his touch. She would not admit it aloud, not even to herself, but part of her expected it now. Trusted it.

Her feet touched the ground, and she bent to stretch her stiff muscles. A soft groan escaped her lips unbidden. When she glanced up, she caught the prince watching her. Again. It had been happening more frequently.

A lingering gaze here, a flicker of attention there. She still couldn’t decide whether it should amuse her or unsettle her. Before she could comment, a sudden burst of lively music drifted from inside the lodge... strings and flutes weaving a festive melody.

A heartbeat later, laughter erupted as the large wooden doors swung open and a group of townsfolk stumbled out, tipsy and cheerful, their cheeks flushed from drink. Curiosity tugged at Zaria hard. She took a few eager steps toward the entrance but Callen caught her arm and pulled her back with a firm, grounding grip.

“Be patient, Zaria. I will escort you inside,” he murmured in a stern tone that was far too warm to match the words. He turned his attention to his men, barking orders, ensuring everything was secured. Meanwhile, Zaria practically vibrated with excitement.

She had spent her life behind high walls, her movements restricted, her world shrunken. Now finally, life spilled freely around her in colors and sounds she had never been allowed to experience. Everything was new. Everything was alive. Everything made her heart swell so sharply it nearly hurt.

At last, Callen motioned her forward. The lodge doors opened and Zaria stepped into a sea of warmth and sound. A massive tavern sprawled before her. Great candelabras dangled from wooden beams, their flames flickering golden light over crowds of travelers, merchants, and knights. Long tables overflowed with roasted boar, potatoes, stews, and towers of wooden pints spilling foam.

Men shouted over each other in drunken camaraderie, exchanging stories of battles and misadventures. The scent of spiced alcohol and sizzling meat wrapped around her like an embrace.

Zaria’s eyes widened, drinking in everything. A beautiful woman in a leather corset wove between tables with effortless grace, balancing a tray stacked with dishes. Another leaned across a counter to pour ale into mugs as fast as men could empty them.

It was chaotic. It was loud. It was unlike anything Zaria had ever known. Her life had been suffocation disguised as royalty. Even when she had ventured through her old city, it was always hidden beneath a cloak, eyes on her back, danger lurking.

Here… She felt anonymous. Invisible, in a way that tasted like freedom. “Come, little elf!” Callen called over the din. “Stop ogling the women.” “I am not ogling,” she protested. Though truthfully, she wasn’t entirely sure what ogling meant.

Callen led her to a staircase winding upward along the wall. The noise softened with each step. By the time they reached the landing, the tavern’s roar had faded to a distant hum. “Do you prefer women?” he asked teasingly.

“I prefer anyone to your company, your highness,” she said sweetly as he opened an old wooden door. “Is that so?” he replied with a raised brow. The room beyond was spacious, with wooden beams, soft lantern light, and an adjoining washroom.

Zaria lit up instantly. “Oh look! There’s a bath here!” she exclaimed, slipping away from him and running her fingers along the smooth cool metal of the large tub. “Of course there is,” Callen said, stepping inside after her. His tall frame nearly filling the space. “We’re in my kingdom. Things are far better here.”

He nudged her gently out of the washroom. “Now get out. I’ll wash first. Go sit somewhere until I’m finished.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he gave her one last push and shut the door firmly in her face.

“And don’t leave this room,” he warned through the door, voice rumbling loud enough to vibrate the wood. “Or Gods help me, Zaria… I’ll drag you into this bathtub with me. Naked.” Her entire face went hot.

That image… Once revolting… Now stirred something entirely different in her stomach; something tangled and confusing.

She crossed the room quickly and opened a window, letting cool night air sweep inside. She inhaled deeply, leaning against the stone wall, exhausted but restless. Her clothes were grimy, stained by travel, and forest dirt.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she had properly washed. The distant sound of rushing water and the soft thud of Callen moving behind the washroom door echoed through the room.

“What will happen to my brother and I once we arrive?” she asked at last, voice quiet, fragile. The question had gnawed at her since the castle first appeared behind the mountains. The journey had been long. Long enough for fear to grow roots. Long enough for her to realize she was not ready for its end.

“It depends on my father,” Callen replied through the door. “But nothing terrible, I presume. You’ll most likely be married to a wealthy noble.” Zaria exhaled sharply. Expected. And yet the words cut deep.

“To a dragon?” she asked softly, picking at the hem of her blouse. “Are dragon husbands like human husbands?” “I don’t know who your husband will be,” Callen called back. “But between humans and dragons, I imagine there are similarities. We are simply better lovers, and we treat our women with more respect.”

She made a face. That did not comfort her in the slightest. “What about my brother?” she pressed. “I plan to offer him a position as a knight in my regiment.” Zaria perked up. “Can I become a knight?”

“No, Princess.” “What if I disguised myself as a man? If I performed well, could you overlook it?” A sigh thick with exhaustion met her question. “No, little elf. Stop scheming.” “What about my younger sisters? They’re too young to marry.”

“They’ll be housed comfortably in the castle or adopted by prominent families.” “What about the elves?” she continued, unable to stop now that the door inside her had opened. “Will I be allowed to marry an elf?” “You’re asking too many questions,” Callen complained. “And it’s far from ideal to yell across the room while I’m trying to relax.”

“I’ll move closer, then,” she said, scooting across the floor until she sat directly against the washroom door. He groaned audibly from the other side. “As I said,” he repeated, voice more weary now, “I don’t decide these things. I’m not the king. I’m not even crown prince. I command the knights.”

“The knights…” she murmured. “Can I at least be your assistant? I’d prefer that over being someone’s wife.” “I don’t need an assistant.” She slumped... comically, tragically, beautifully defeated.

Silence stretched between them. Water shifted behind the door. A few soft movements. Then... The door swung open. Zaria toppled backward with a startled gasp.

Callen, bare-chested with a towel slung over one shoulder, stepped over her neatly as though stepping over fallen laundry. “It’s your turn,” he said. She nodded weakly, still dispirited, even as her heart thudded hard enough to echo in her ears.