It had been four days since Princess Elara crashed into goat boy—and she hadn't stopped thinking about him since.
She'd tried. She really had. There was etiquette training, embroidery practice (in which she stabbed the fabric with violent intent), and multiple awkward tea sessions with Prince Cassian, whose idea of flirtation was asking if she preferred the blue or gold curtain in the throne room.
She preferred setting the curtain on fire.
But mostly, Elara daydreamed about the carpenter with storm-colored eyes and a smile that made her knees forget how to function.
And so, on a fog-kissed evening when the castle was busy preparing for a royal banquet, she did the most logical thing a rebellious princess could do.
She ran away.
Again.
"Lina, distract the guards," she whispered, tugging off her tiara and stuffing it into a satchel.
"You're going to see Goat Boy, aren't you?" Lina whispered back, holding a tray of fake pastries like a weapon. "I'll create chaos in the west corridor. I've been waiting my whole life for this."
"You're the best."
"I know."
And with that, Elara dashed into the night.
In the Valley
Arian didn't know what was happening to him.
He was building a bookshelf that morning—an ordinary, quiet task—and then promptly sawed off the wrong end, nailed his hand to the plank, and accidentally glued his boot to a barrel.
He blamed her. That princess.
Elara.
He hadn't seen her since their ridiculous first meeting, and he was convinced she'd forgotten him. Royals didn't remember carpenters with goat problems. They certainly didn't sneak down to see them—
"Hi."
He turned.
There she stood. Cloaked, windblown, radiant.
Arian blinked. "You again."
"Me again."
"You can't keep popping into my life like this," he said. "You'll give me heart failure. Or a very confusing crush."
Her eyes twinkled. "You think I'm confusing?"
"I think you're trouble."
"Good."
She stepped into his workshop like she belonged there. The sawdust didn't seem to bother her, nor did the goat chewing on his sandal in the corner.
"You're really a princess," Arian said, watching her perch on a stool.
"I'm really a prisoner with better jewelry."
"I'm just a carpenter."
She tilted her head. "You fixed my bruised ego. Does that count?"
He laughed, and it filled the room with warmth.
"I can't stay long," she said after a moment. "But I needed to see you."
"Why?"
"I... don't know. You make me forget the world is trying to fit me into a box I never asked for."
He stepped closer, their laughter fading into something soft, electric.
"Elara—"
"I'm betrothed," she blurted, "to a man who stares at walls like they owe him money."
Arian blinked. "Oh."
"I'm not supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to want this. But I do." Her voice trembled. "Tell me I'm crazy."
"You're crazy."
They stared at each other.
Then he kissed her.
It was reckless and sweet and absolutely against the rules. It tasted like sawdust and starlight and everything Elara had ever wanted. And when she pulled away, breathless, she whispered, "I'm definitely sneaking out again."
---
Meanwhile… in the Palace
Prince Cassian sat in the royal garden, sipping tea he did not want, staring at a flower he did not like, listening to his advisor drone on about floral arrangements.
He had noticed the princess acting strange.
She was humming lately. Smiling. Wearing simpler dresses. Once, she'd even laughed. Laughed. Cassian had no idea what she found so amusing.
But he didn't like it.
Because if Elara wasn't falling in love with him—then who was she falling for?
He tapped the table. "Bring me the Royal Tracker."
The advisor paused. "We're... tracking her?"
Cassian stood. "She's hiding something. And I intend to find out what."
Back in the Valley
Elara ran back to the castle under the cover of fog, face flushed from kissing and adrenaline. Lina was waiting in the corridor, holding a tray of stolen desserts.
"Well?" Lina asked, shoving a tart in her mouth.
Elara melted against the wall with a dreamy sigh. "He kissed me."
"Was it good?"
"I forgot how to breathe."
"Ah, yes. That's the good kind."
They shared a giggle. Then a door creaked.
The Queen stepped into the hallway, eyes sharp.
"Elara," she said coldly, "Your presence is requested. Now."
Elara stood straighter. "Of course, Mother."
She followed the Queen, trying not to think about the man who made her heart thunder—or the secret she now had to keep.
Because falling in love with a poor carpenter was more than scandalous.
It was dangerous.
And someone, somewhere, was about to find out.