The Prince and His Princess

Just for a moment

Lila’s POV

When Prudence told me I’d be joining the royal family for dinner, I wanted to sink into the floor.

“But I don’t have a dress,” I protested.

“Already arranged,” she said crisply, pulling a flowing lavender gown from the wardrobe. It shimmered in the light, simple yet elegant, with delicate silver threadwork along the hem.

“Hair up or down?” she asked.

I hesitated. “Down.”

She gave a tight nod and got to work. Her fingers were efficient, not unkind, but not exactly gentle either. In under half an hour, I was ready.

“Do I look okay?” I asked her quietly.

Prudence gave me the tiniest flicker of a smile. “You look like a princess.”

That made my stomach turn. Not because of the compliment—because I wasn’t sure I wanted to be one.

When I arrived at the grand dining hall, Catherine greeted me with a warm smile.

“You look radiant,” she said, linking arms with me. “This dinner is just a quiet gathering—no pressure. We’re easing you in.”

She said it so reassuringly, but the truth was obvious: this was my first test. Inside, everything gleamed. Crystal chandeliers hung from impossibly high ceilings. The long table was already set with gleaming silverware, crystal goblets, and dishes of food I didn’t recognize.

And then I saw him.

Tobi stood at the far end of the room, dressed in dark navy with gold embroidery, sharp and regal. Our eyes locked. He didn’t smile. He didn’t smirk. He stared like I was something he’d lost and never thought he’d find again. My breath caught.

Catherine gave my arm a gentle squeeze before stepping forward to greet the other guests.

There were two other couples—older men with confident stances and commanding voices, clearly Alphas, and their beautifully dressed mates. They looked me over with polite curiosity.

“Tobias, come greet your mate,” Catherine called.

He crossed the room, slow and deliberate. Every step made my heart beat faster.

“May I?” he asked, holding out his arm.

I hesitated, then took it.

Warm. Solid. Safe.

We moved together to the table, sitting at the center. I didn’t miss the pleased glances the others exchanged—clearly, the show was working. Dinner passed in a blur of polite conversation, ceremonial toasts, and strange customs. Tobi kept his hand lightly resting over mine the whole time. It was grounding and infuriating in equal measure.

The Luna beside me leaned in during dessert.

“You’re braver than you look,” she whispered with a wink.

I turned to her, startled, expecting judgment—but finding a gentle, amused smile instead.

“I’m Ophelia,” she added. “And trust me—your first palace dinner is always hell.”

That pulled a tiny, involuntary laugh from me.

“Thanks. I was beginning to think I was the only one completely lost.”

“Oh, you are,” she teased. “But don’t worry. That’s where I come in.”

Her dress was a simple cut of pale white gauzy layers—elegant, but not flashy. Her hair was swept up, and her makeup subtle. She looked powerful, but not untouchable.

Human, I realized suddenly. Or... at least she felt human.

And something about that made my chest loosen, just a bit.

After dinner, Catherine guided me aside while the Alphas discussed border patrols and trade.

“You did wonderfully,” she said warmly. “You’ve earned some breathing room. Take tomorrow to rest if you need to.”

“Thank you,” I said, meaning it.

I didn’t want to admit it, but... I was starting to feel like maybe I could survive this place. As long as Tobi didn’t push too hard. As long as I remembered who I was before him.

Tobi’s POV

She was breathtaking.

And not just because of the dress or the way her hair caught the candlelight. It was the way she held herself—so still, so composed, like a glass blade ready to snap.

But she let me touch her hand.

She let me hold her arm.

It wasn’t a victory. Not yet.

But it was a beginning.

Lila’s POV

The dress was on the floor within seconds of getting back to the room. I was exhausted. Not physically—though the dinner had dragged—but emotionally. The effort it took to hold myself together, to pretend everything was fine, was draining. I collapsed onto the bed in the soft cotton robe Prudence had laid out. I had no energy left to brush my hair or wipe off the layers of makeup. Just five minutes. I’d rest for five minutes...

I woke to a knock.

Groaning, I dragged myself off the bed and opened the door.

Tobi. Of course.

He looked far too alert for this hour. Still dressed, too—though he’d discarded the jacket and undone the top buttons of his shirt. His hair was slightly messy, and for a split second, I hated how good he looked.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Can we talk?”

I stepped aside wordlessly. He entered, glancing around like he half-expected an ambush.

“I just—thank you,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “For dinner. For trying.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

“I know,” he said. “But still. Thank you.”

We sat in silence for a moment.

Then he added, “You looked incredible tonight.”

I rolled my eyes, but heat still crept up my neck.

“Stop trying to charm me.”

“It’s not charm. It’s the truth.”

I shook my head, trying to stay annoyed—but he had that look again. The one that made my stomach flip.

“You can’t keep doing this,” I said. “You don’t get to pretend everything is fine just because I’m in your room and wearing a dress.”

“I don’t think everything is fine. I know it’s not. I know I messed up—horribly. But I’m trying to earn my way back to you.” His voice cracked just enough to make it real.

I hated that it worked.

“I still don’t trust you.”

“I know.”

“And I still haven’t forgiven you.”

“I’ll wait,” he said.

Silence again.

Then, softly, he added, “Can I hold you? Just for a moment?”

The question knocked the air out of me. I should have said no.

But I didn’t.

I didn’t move, didn’t answer. And still, I didn’t stop him when he got up, crossed the space between us, and wrapped his arms around me.

He held me gently, like he was afraid I’d break. Or disappear.

And for a second—I let him. For a second, it felt like home.

Then I pulled away.

“That’s all you get,” I said.

He nodded, stepping back, he began laying out pillows and a blanket on the long, velvet couch across from the fireplace.

“I didn’t want you to think I’d assumed anything,” he replied quietly. “I’ll stay out of your way.”

The silence between us wasn’t hostile anymore—but it wasn’t warm either.

He didn’t press. Didn’t try to touch me. And when he settled onto the couch and turned toward the backrest, I heard him let out a long, careful breath—like he’d been holding it the whole time I was moving around the room.

I lay awake far longer than I expected, staring at the carved ceiling and listening to his slow, even breathing.

It wasn’t romantic.

It wasn’t healing.

But it was... safe.

And for now, that was enough

Tobi’s POV

I didn’t sleep.

How could I?

I could still feel her in my arms. Still smell her hair on my shirt.

It wasn’t forgiveness. Not even close.

But it was hope.

And right now, that was everything.

Henry

The palace was… overwhelming. Gilded ceilings, enchanted fireplaces, staff who bowed every time you walked past. He hadn’t even done anything, and yet they treated him like he was important. Henry didn’t like feeling useless.

So the next morning, he woke early—before even Oscar stirred—and slipped out of the guest quarters. With some gentle coaxing (and Mariah’s begrudging help), he got directions to the apothecary in the east wing.

The building was tucked between a greenhouse and a library, all curved windows and ivy-covered stone. Inside, it smelled of dried herbs and something sweetly bitter—licorice root, maybe?

A woman stood behind the counter, grinding dried leaves with slow, rhythmic focus.

“Can I help you?” she asked without looking up.

“Uh… yeah,” Henry said. “I was wondering if you were hiring. I don’t have formal training or anything, but I helped out at a healing centre back in the human world. I’m quick. And I learn fast.”

That made her pause. She glanced up—green eyes sharp and assessing. “You’re the human with the Princess.”

“Guilty.”

“And the Prince’s criminal best friend.”

“That too.”

She watched him for a moment longer, then jerked her chin toward the back room. “Start by organizing the tincture shelf. Alphabetically. Then we’ll see how quick you really are.”

Henry blinked. “Just like that?”

“You want a royal decree instead?”

He grinned. “No, ma’am.”

He headed for the back room.

And for the first time since arriving in Aruyios, Henry felt like he belonged somewhere.