Ryker returned just as the crowd dissolved into murmurs after Tyche's sudden exit. He held two wooden cups of spiced berry drink, looking irritated and confused.
"Your Highness—why did you leave the table?" he demanded in a hushed voice, trying not to sound accusatory. "I looked away for only a moment and you—vanished. Again."
Levi didn't even spare him a glance.
Ryker sighed sharply through his nose. "It took forever to push through the crowd. Do you know how many people tried to—"
"We're leaving," Levi cut in, his tone flat, absolute.
Ryker blinked. "Leaving? Already? But you said you wanted to—"
"It's gotten too loud."
Ryker stared, baffled. Loud?
The festival had been loud since they arrived. Drums, dancers, laughter—none of it ever bothered Levi before.
But Ryker stopped himself from questioning further. One wrong word could turn Levi's cold indifference into something far more dangerous.
"…As you command," he muttered, swallowing his confusion and following Levi into the shadows where the lantern light didn't dare reach.
Levi moved through the festival crowds like a phantom, untouched and untouchable. People parted naturally, not realizing why they did—only sensing an instinctive chill.
Within moments, the prince and his guard slipped into the night.
And just like that—they were gone.
---
⟣ POV: Tyche ⟢
Tyche didn't stop running until the music faded into a distant thrum behind her. She found an empty corner near the edge of the square—a quiet place behind a shuttered fruit stall—and finally let her breathing slow.
But her chest still hurt.
Her hands still shook.
Her heart still stung like it had been cut open.
She leaned against the wooden stall and slid down until she sat on the cool earth, gathering her skirt protectively around herself.
Her thoughts were loud—louder than the drums of the festival.
Why does everything I touch fall apart?
Why does it feel like the world gets joy from reminding me what I'm not?
She wrapped her arms around her knees.
Her life had always felt like it was built on cracks—her parents gone, her relatives cold, her future uncertain. She'd barely survived the cruelty of her aunt's house… and yet tonight still managed to hurt in a new way.
And then there was him.
The man with the unreadable eyes and cruel tongue.
The man who lifted her from danger only to throw her into shame.
Why did he have to say it like that?
Why did his words hit me harder than they should?
His voice replayed in her head—sharp, cold, cutting straight into every insecurity she tried to bury.
"Are you truly this incompetent?"
"Perhaps thinking is too much for you."
"Why can't you dance?"
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the burn of fresh tears.
Why did it hurt so much?
He was just a stranger. A handsome, powerful, untouchable stranger she never should have spoken to.
And yet—
She could still feel the heat of his hand at her waist.
Still feel the firmness of his grip.
Still feel the strange, dangerous familiarity his presence awakened in her.
Like she had seen him before.
Like her soul recognized something her mind didn't.
Tyche pressed her forehead to her knees.
"Why am I like this…" she whispered to herself.
"He saved me. Then he ruined me."
A broken laugh escaped. "In one night. One single night."
She lifted her head toward the moon.
"Why him? Why now? Why do I let people crush me so easily?"
Her voice lowered to a whisper.
"What am I supposed to do with a life that never wanted me in it?"
Her eyes stung—but no tears fell. She had learned long ago to swallow them.
"I'm tired," she murmured. "So tired of pretending I'm fine."
A rustle sounded behind her.
Tyche stiffened, swiping at her eyes even though nothing had fallen.
Then—
"Tyche?"
She turned.
Xanthe stood a few paces away, worry etched into her soft features, her dark curls catching the lantern-glow like spilled gold.
"There you are!" Xanthe hurried to her. "I've been searching everywhere. Are you hurt? What happened? Why did you run off?"
Tyche opened her mouth, but the words caught.
Xanthe reached for her hands gently. "You can tell me."
And Tyche—tired, brittle, aching—finally exhaled.
"Everything," she whispered. "Everything happened."
And with no more words needed, she wrapped Tyche tightly in her arms.
(●__●)(●__●)(●__●)(●__●)(●__●)(●__●)