I sit on the broad sill of my window, staring out over the city. Snow drifts from the stair-stepped rooftops, soft as ash as the swollen moon glows orange above, hanging like it might fall into the streets below. And in those streets... there's music--a muffled melody rising like smoke as firelight dances between masked revelers.

  'If you get the chance to see the world, take it.' Vinnie's words slither through my mind.

  Hastily, I stand, pulling on a thick cloak, before creeping toward the door. It creaks softly as I slip into the corridor, the palace hushed as I navigate the unfamiliar corridors, guided by intrigue.

  Eventually, I find the entrance—but before I can press the iron latch, two guards step from the shadows, boots crunching faintly in the dark.

  "Princess," one says, barring my way. "Where are you going?"

  My mouth opens, scrambling for an excuse—but my mind is blank.

  "I..." I falter.

  Then an unmistakable voice calls out behind me.

  "She was supposed to wait in her chambers."

  I turn. Rael emerges from the gloom, cloak slung over one shoulder. He doesn't look at me as he steps forward, addressing the guards.

  "There was a change of plans," he continues coolly. "The king's asked me to escort the princess to the festival. He's tied up with council matters but didn't want her missing it."

  The guards look at each other.

  "Yes," my smile wobbles. "I was waiting, but he never showed so I assumed I'd go alone."

  "Without an escort?" I note the smirk ghosting his lips. "Reckless."

  The guards bow slightly and step aside, hands resting on their swords.

  "Apologies," one says, pulling open the gate with a low groan. "Enjoy."

  Rael offers his arm. "Shall we?"

  I don't hesitate, slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow before stepping into the night.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The city unfolds before us—stone towers, tall spires, narrow winding streets—all softened by the glow of lights strung between rooftops like constellations. Music pulses through the air, laughter echoes like birdsong, and the scent of roasted nuts, honeyed drink, and smoke mingles on the breeze.

  I walk at Rael's side, heart beating a little too fast.

  "You're welcome, by the way," he states without missing a step.

  "I could've handled it."

  "You stood there like a startled fawn," he teases. "Your mouth opened and closed three times and nothing came out. If I hadn't stepped in, they'd have thought you were possessed."

  I narrow my eyes. "And what exactly were you doing skulking the halls so late?"

  "Saving you from making a scene," he scoffs. "And possibly the dungeon."

  A laugh slips past my lips, "So noble."

  We weave through the crowd, where demons in painted masks spin in slow circles to the rhythm of a drumbeat. Glimmering scarves and furs sweep past in a blur, and snow flutters down, catching in my hair.

  "I'm surprised," Rael murmurs, leaning a little closer. "You sneaking out like that. Trying to run?"

  I shrug. "I'm tired of watching the world from a window."

  Rael studies me for a moment. "Careful," he says. "Courage like that has a price."

  I arch a brow. "So does cowardice."

  His smile twists, almost approving. "Touché."

  We enter a quieter stretch of the square where a fire-dancer twirls at its center, her flames casting shadows across the watching crowd. I pause to watch, mesmerized.

  Rael leans in, breath fanning my cheek. "My brother and I used to sneak out for this when we were children."

  I pause, but before I can question it, he gestures toward a nearby vendor where masks glitter on silk cloth.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "Come on," he says. "If you're going to take part, at least do it properly."

  The table is a riot of color and shimmer, but my eyes are drawn to one near the edge—a pale ivory half-mask detailed with pearlescent swirls, the edges curling like frost-laced petals, and small silver filigree frames the eyes.

  I pick it up gently. "This one."

  Rael hums, then turns to the table to pluck a deep charcoal mask with angular lines carved into the brow, the mouth guarded by a layered pattern like bared teeth. The metal around the eyes gleams a subtle red in the light.

  I watch his fingers tie the string. "Very you."

  "It was either this or the one with feathers," he huffs.

  "You'd look lovely in feathers."

  "I'd rather be devoured by crows." He deadpans.

  I grin.

  We leave the stall masked—feeling like some moonlit trickster walking beside a shadow carved from mountain stone—and wander onward. Overhead, lanterns drift into the sky like paper stars, climbing higher until they vanish into the smoke-veiled moon.

  A woman offers me a thimble of glowing spirit—blue and gold and swirling like captured starlight. I drink it, the warmth blooming down my throat, sweet and fierce.

  Rael eyes me. "You didn't even ask what it was."

  "I assumed you'd warn me if it's poison."

  "I wouldn't."

  "Liar." I smirk.

  He chuckles and I feel it like a small victory warming my ribs as music draws me forward.

  Dancers spin around a lute player seated on a barrel, foot tapping wildly in rhythm. The melody is bright and raw, woven with laughter, clapping, and the growing joy that threads through the air.

  I watch them—some clumsy, some graceful, all radiant beneath the snow.

  "I've never seen anything like this," I sway to the beat. "I feel like I'm dreaming." Turning to him, I offer my hand. "Dance with me."

  He raises an eyebrow. "I don't dance."

  "You do now."

  He studies me for a moment—then, sighing dramatically, takes my hand.

  "You're trouble," he mutters, letting me lead him into the circle, the snow catching on his shoulders. I twirl once in front of him, laughing as the music lifts, before catching his hand again, his grip tightening just enough to steady me.

  And just like that--we're dancing.

  Not perfectly. Not smoothly. But together.

  The music starts with a wild trill of strings, fast and playful as a drum beats in rhythm, pulsing like a heartbeat, as the circle of dancers comes alive.

  Rael suddenly spins me, one hand catching mine, the other guiding my waist. I gasp, stumbling at first, but he steadies me easily, lips twitching behind his mask.

  "Keep up, rabbit," he whispers.

  "You're enjoying this." I tease.

  His grin flashes, teeth white in the glow. "Perhaps."

  We move through the crowd, swept into the current of dancers and I find myself spinning, feet barely touching the ground as laughter spills out. Rael dips me with exaggerated flair, only to pull me back up and into a new turn.

  We switch partners—just for a moment—and I'm swept into the arms of a stranger with a mask painted in gold leaf. I barely have time to register the new face before Rael cuts in again, smoothly reclaiming me.

  My cheeks warm, breath coming quick. "Possessive."

  "Protective," he corrects, pulling me closer as the tempo rises.

  We spin once more—dizzying—and I clutch his shoulders, laughing as the world blurs. Rael's laughter joins mine, and the sound of it makes my heart twist unexpectedly.

  And then, as if the musicians have conspired with the snow, the music softens.

  The drums fall away, replaced by the low hum of wind instruments and long, aching strings. The dancers slow, movements melting into something more tender, more intimate.

  Rael's grip shifts, one hand resting against the small of my back, the other still holding mine, fingers interlaced now instead of just touching. The space between us vanishes, the warmth of his body chasing away the cold.

  I look up and everything fades—until it's just us, swaying in the center of a dream.

  "You're smiling," I say softly. "I didn't think you knew how."

  His smile grows. "Careful, Princess. That almost sounded like flirting."

  My heart skips.

  Be brave.

  "Perhaps it was."

  We sway, turning slowly, heart drumming a beat of its own—faster than the music. Rael's gaze dips to my lips, and the spark of it feels like lightning. My breath hitches, hand tightening in his.

  I draw nearer, and he mirrors the motion.

  Closer.

  Until I feel his breath brushing my mouth like a promise.

  Closer.

  Until our lips nearly brush.

  Someone shouts in delight and reality returns like the tide.

  I step back, the space between us returning though the music slows into a soft, flowing melody, carried on the air like a whispered secret. The crowd's movements become more graceful, each step in tune with the new, gentler tempo.

  I stare at him, heart hammering in my chest as my mind battles between duty and desire.

  "Rael, I-"

  "Look up." He states, lifting his eyes to the sky.

  Vibrant light shimmers above, dancing like ribbons in the sky. I gasp at the sight, watching the colors twirl above, leaving trails of purple, gold, and emerald in the darkened sky.

  "Beautiful," I breathe, unable to take my eyes off the spectacle.

  "A gift from the spirits." He adds as the magical display gradually fades. The city still hums with the rhythm of celebration, the laughter and music faint in the distance as we stand in silence, feeling the weight of the moment.

  But something's changed.

  "Rael--"

  "Let's get you back." He gently takes my hand, his touch warm against my skin as he leads us back toward the palace.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  We stop at my door an I face him. "Thank you," I whisper.

  His fingers release mine, lingering for just a second longer before he steps back. "Goodnight, Princess," he replies, then walks away.

  I enter my room, the sound of distant music and laughter still echoing outside the window as I approach it. I watch the festivities below, feeling far too restless to sleep.

  And then the door creaks open.

  I spin around, and there he is—Rael, standing in the doorway, his silhouette dark against the soft glow of the hallway light. His eyes lock onto mine, the weight of his stare drawing me near.

  "What is it?" I ask.

  He crosses the room in a few long strides, and before I can react, he cups my cheek, thumb brushing softly against my skin.

  He leans in slowly, and my breath catches just as his lips meet mine, soft and tender, like the brush of a feather. For a moment, everything feels suspended in time, as if the world outside has disappeared.

  But then he draws back, his voice cutting through the daze. "Goodbye, Selene."

  Without another word, he leaves, the door clicking softly behind him.

  I stand frozen, fingers brushing my lips, still tingling from the kiss. I never imagined this would happen—not here, not like this.

  The weight of my duty—my engagement—rushes back, making the room feel too small, too silent as I realize that I'm torn between two worlds—one of duty, and one of a feeling that's too dangerous to acknowledge.