My heart pounded like a war drum as I ran, clutching my mother's ring so tightly I thought it might shatter in my grip. my lungs burned with each panicked breath. My legs threatening to give out beneath me. His footsteps was right behind me, heavy and forgiving. I didn't dare glacing over my shoulder; I didn't need to. I could feel his presence, his breath closing in as a predator closing the gap on its prey. The robber was relentless, his growls of frustration echoing in the night. I had to outrun him, had to keep the ring safe. his shadow stretched longer, his breath hot on ny neck. My heart raced but I wouldn't let him take it back... not after everything I had lost.
I stumbled onto the street, my vision blurred by panic, that's when I saw him. A man leaning against a beautiful silver carriage, a cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers. He was tall and calm, too calm as if the chaos around him didn't exist.
The carriage was a masterpiece of royal craftsmanship, a grand vehicle gleaming with authority and grace. Its body, carved from fine mahogany and polished to a mirror sheen
The doors were etched with silver vines, each leaf glinting like frost under the sun, while the windows were framed in crystal glass so clear it caught every flicker of daylight.
Four powerful black stallions drew it, their manes braided with gold threads, their hooves striking the cobblestones with rhythmic thunder. The interior was draped in deep velvet, midnight blue trimmed with silver, soft enough to drown the world's noise
Before I could think, I ran straight to him, crashing onto his chest.
"help me!" I grasped, my voice barely a whisper. His arms caught me, steady and strong. I looked up meeting his dark but unreadable eyes. there was no wamth in them, but there was something else, control, power and a quite kind of danger that made my fear of the robber feel smaller.
As he was looking at me I couldnt decide if I should admire him or fear him. His face was maddeningly perfect, sharp cheekbones, jawline cut from stone and those golden eyes that pinned me in place. they bunned with a mix of arrogance and something darker, something broken, though I doubt he'd let anyone see it. His black hair fell in unruly waves, brushing against his forehead as though it had the audacity to defy him.
There was unsettling beauty about him, a danger in the way he carried himself and yet there was bitterness in his stare, a man weighed down by invisible chains.
"hey there robber... you better give it back to me while am asking nicely" the robber called me out.
The man froze, then called me out, "Robber?" as if the word offended him.
He merely shrugged, indifferent. To my surprise, his eyes carried no guilt, no fear, only a tired detachment, like a man who couldn't care less. But as he turned to walk away, I caught his arm, my voice softening into something close to a plea.
"not today... I can't deal with this" he brushed me off but I held his hand firmly.
"I promise it's a misunderstanding, am no robber of any kind, it's my mother's heirloom am trying to protect, it's the only thing I have left of her.... please help me I'd do anything you ask...." I spoke and he melted.
I don't know if it's the voice or talking about my mother's heirloom that made the effect. His eyes lingered on my face with quiet wonder, a soft smile curving his lips as if the world itself had stilled in his presence.
In that gaze, admiration bloomed, tender, unspoken, and utterly sincere.
"hey! you don't wanna involve yourself sir.. whoever your name is.. off your way...." the robber spoke trying to scare him off but he unexpectedly pulled me by his side. his arms caught me steady and strong.
"Excuse me...." he spoke, his voice sharp enough to cut through the night.
The robber froze. For a heartbeat, the man neither flinched nor moved, yet something in his calm unsettled the robber, enough to make him hesitate, suddenly uncertain of his next move..
"I don't just grant people favors, you know..." he whispered in my ear, his voice low and calm.
For a moment, I forgot to breathe. His nearness stirred something wild inside me, the warmth of his breath against my skin, the depth in his voice that seemed to echo through my chest. When I looked at him, really looked, it was as if the world dimmed around his face, so striking, so ruinously handsome that it sent shivers down my spine. In that instant, admiration wasn't a choice; it was a surrender.
" I'll do anything you ask, please just help me, I don't wanna lose this...." I was already frustrated, I just wanted to get out of the situation. He let me go and walked few steps towards the robber.
There was movement from the other side of the carriage, a measured rhythm of polished boots clicking sharply against the marble. The postilion emerged from his errand, his gloved hand still clutching the reins of the single horse that I, only now realized was hitched to the royal carriage. His calm shattered the instant he caught sight of the scene before him.
The man, usually composed, stood rigid, his dark eyes locked on the robber, who was cornered, breathless, and trembling. The air between them pulsed with danger; the robbers hand twitched near his belt, where a glint of steel flashed in the light. The postilion froze, instinct sharpening his senses as he took a cautious step forward and said, quietly but firmly.
"Let me handle him, Your highness... your safety comes first." the postilion spoke.
Your highness? The words struck me. Was he a royal? No it can't be! I must have heard wrong or is he someone of high station?
"I can handle this," he said, cutting him off. His tone was calm, resolute. Then, without haste, he reached into his hip pocket and drew out something that caught the faint light, a small, gleaming weight he held out toward the thief.
"Is this piece of gold enough to trade for what you want from her?"
Gold? My breath hitched. I leaned forward, peering over his shoulder, and there it was, a solid piece of gold resting in his palm. A chill coursed through me; I had never seen such wealth in my entire life.
Why would this man offer something so precious for my mother's heirloom?a simple ring, delicate and timeworn, its surface smooth from age, yet glimmering with a quiet, undeniable grace?
At its center, a deep sapphire gleamed like a piece of the night sky, surrounded by small, twinkling diamonds. The intricate design of vines and leaves engraved along the band spoke of generations past, each curve and detail a whisper of history. It felt heavy with memories, as though it carried the weight of love and loss, a quite legacy passed down from mother to daughter.
"your highness!..." the Postilion interrupted again but the man didn't listen. His eyes focused on the robbers stance . The robber leaned forward to accept the piece of Gold, corners of his mouth twitching his eyes sparkling with desires.
"Wait...."
"stop talking..." The man stopped me from interrupting.
"you will take this and get the hell out of here" His voice was more deeper this time as the robber grab the piece of Gold with joy.. I could tell he had never seen anything like it in his life too.
A moment of silence swept through the place as the robber fled — laughing, stumbling, almost dancing his way into the night. His footsteps faded fast, like a curse lifting from the air. I stood frozen, too stunned to react, fear and confusion tangling somewhere deep in my chest.
"Now what?!" I demanded, my voice shaking as I turned toward him.
He exhaled slowly, the kind of sigh that carried both exhaustion and decision. Then he turned to me, a faint smile ghosting across his face.
"Heed my words..." he said.
The Postilion, clearly practiced in moments like these, hurriedly produced a fountain pen and a small leather-bound diary, ready to capture every word.
"I, Prince Davis of Ravenvall, hereby appoint this woman to be my right hand man.... sorry woman"
The pen froze. The chauffeur's head lifted, disbelief flickering in his eyes. My own pulse stumbled. I could hardly process the words as they left his mouth.
"She will be by my side," he continued, unwavering, "she will heed my words, preparing my schedules, attending my meetings..."
His voice kept going, each word heavier than the last, until they blurred into one long, surreal sentence.
"Wait..... wait!" I blurted out, raising my hands.
His jaw tightened, a flash of irritation crossing his face. I knew I was interrupting something I probably shouldn't have, but I didn't care.
"Hold on," I said, half-laughing, half-breaking. "Let me process this..."
The laughter spilled out of me.... wild, hysterical, until it broke into tears. Hot, uninvited tears that carried the weight of everything I'd lost.
"A prince?" I choked out between breaths. "You're a prince? You must be joking!"
It was too much, too absurd. The world had already taken everything from me: my parents, my childhood, my innocence. I'd been left with scraps, clawing my way through every day just to survive.
And yet... here I stood, face-to-face with a prince who had just rewritten my fate with a single sentence.
My lips curled into a wry smile... arrogant maybe, but earned. Lived through most people could imagine.The dungeons had been my home, the darkness my ally, hunger my closet companions. I have fought for every meal, every breath, every shed of dignity.
But again thinking about it....it could be true; he exuded a commanding presence that's impossible to ignore. Tall and broad shoulders, his frame spoke of a life forged through trials, every muscle he honed to perfection. His raven black hair, always slightly disheveled, fell across his forehead in a way that seemed effortless legal.
Davis, carried himself like a King without a crown, his stride firm and deliberate, his voice a velvet blade that could command armies. Yet the weight of his illegitimacy simmered beneath his aura of invicibility. Yes he is an illegitimate child, but I don't know this yet.
He was abandoned by his own father, exciled to protect the fragile line of succession. Davis bore the scars of betrayal though he'd never admit it aloud. His pride was both his armor and his curse, shielding the wounds of a prince who was denied his birthright yet refused to bow to anyone .. least of all fate. He is to return home now, due to the passing of his brother Prince Kareel, making him the only heir but illegitimate to the throne.
"Okay.... miss..." he demanded
"Berlinda.... or you can just call me Linda" I replied him
"Yes miss Linda Linda... let me rephrase myself..."
"I Prince Davis of Ravenvall, am appointing you to be my right hand woman..."
"Okay, wait—wait, wait... first of all," I cut him off, my voice trembling between disbelief and defiance.
"I'm a woman, Davis... or Prince, or whatever you're calling yourself."
"Prince Davis..." the Postilion rephrased it for me.
I still couldn't wrap my head around it. Maybe I just didn't want to accept the truth. But everything about him screamed royalty; the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, the way he was dressed. The gold. The carriage. The postilion. Even his scent, like heaven itself had fallen to earth. It all felt surreal, like a nightmare disguised as a daydream. But one question kept lingering "why is he traveling alone? No guards, no attendants!?"
"oh... okay whatever! lets say that you're a so called prince...." I scoffed in disbelief, I chose to feign ignorance.
"I can't believe I'm saying this...!" a breathy laugh escaped me, somewhere between hysteria and surrender.
"Sorry.... remind me again, how did I even get myself into this?" The words came out sharper than I intended. I wasn't scared anymore; I was stunned, utterly, stupidly stunned.
And yet, through it all, he hadn't taken his eyes off me. Not once.
There was something maddening about the way he looked, like he was amused by my frustration, as if every second of my disbelief entertained him.
"I understand you lost your precious item while trying to help me, but if you really are the prince, then what you're asking of me is a....."
"A bare minimum."
My words froze midair. Bare minimum? Was he serious?
"What I'm asking you to do," he continued, voice smooth and commanding, "is a bare minimum compared to what I lost."
Right. The gold. The cursed gold. I'd nearly forgotten that I'd promised him anything in exchange for his help. And that.... that ridiculous promise.... is how I ended up in this mess.
"A right-hand woman? You call that a bare minimum? Davis... you know this is suicide!" Apparently I knew of the law that bound women of any role or title other than a domestic one, the law that stripped women of their rights for thousands of years so this! this is suicide.
"Prince Davis," the postilion corrected me again.
"Let her," he cut in, tone lazy but sharp enough to slice through the air. The Postilion, Eldric, fell silent instantly, glancing back as if he'd just witnessed a sin he didn't want to be part of.
He never let anyone speak to him like that. Never. Yet here I was.... some nameless woman, testing the edges of his patience, and somehow... he was letting me.
Oh, silly me. Now I was standing at a crossroads that mocked every ounce of my survival instinct.
"I'm a nobody," I said quietly. "What do I gain from this.... how far will I go go with this.... your right-hand woman or whatever that is? I'm barely surviving as it is."
The Prince tilted his head slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.
"What do you gain...?" he echoed, voice dipping lower, richer. "Let me see."
He paused, as if weighing my worth like one might inspect a jewel they weren't sure deserved polishing.
"You gain a title," he said at last, casually. "A land. Respect. As you said..... you're a nobody." His eyes drifted past me to Eldric.
"But that can change."
And just like that, his words crawled under my skin.... cold, arrogant, and impossibly tempting.
"your highness! but that's against the laws!" worriedly Edric remarked .
" Your highness, you don't have to go through with this, it's strictly against the laws... they will come for her head... they will come for you, it's a straight death sentence "
"I know..." was he smiling saying this? Yes he was!
"but it's my command, nobody, not even the King himself will go against it!" What in the World is going on with this man? What's on his mind?
There wasn't such thing as the right hand woman... women were not even allowed to be given titles in our Kingdom let alone serve the royals at such high title. Never has there been such thing since the beginning of this Kingdom...Women were always domestic caretaker and a tool of pleasure. Nothing more than that. The so called title he just gave me is the hardest and narrow path I needed to walk through.
The thought of death didn't even scare me... not anymore. I had stared it down too many times to flinch. But this? This decision was different. It wasn't just about dying, it was about how I will die.
I shook my head, my jaw clenching.
"No" I muttered under my breath, my voice calm. I wasn't ready, not yet.I needed time to think, to process everything, if what this man claims to be is true. I needed a plan, rushing into things had never been my style. reckless maybe, but I wasn't a fool. He would never take me for a fool.
"It's a royal command, there's no options, you only need to follow my lead... now get in the car" he spoke this time with a commanding voice. was he done talking? Was this how the royals acts.. like that's just it? so my decision didn't matter. that's just it!
"And what if I refuse?...." I asked calmly clenching my fist. I was mad, so mad, this was my decision to make regardless.
" I am not going repeat myself ...." He remarked angrily this time. I clearly didn't sign up for this!
He no longer seemed friendly, not that he did on the first place.
I know if I accept this, my death would promise honor, But if I had to die, I'd do it in my own terms. With my head held high, my pride intact, and fire in my heart.
I could feel the arrogance of his words still stinging in my ears. Easy for him to speak of sacrifice from his cushioned throne. He needed a puppet to put on his shows, for his reckless decisions, and I happened to fall right under his trap.
But if I was to refuse, my death would be quieter, slower. The kind of death that crept in while you were still breathing, squeezing the life out of you little by little. I had seen it in the dungeons, in the hollow eyes of the desperate. Would that be my end? really?
The choices mocked me but I had to be smart.
"And..... here's the three rules for you .... never interrupt me when am talking, never come near me and never take commands other than mine starting now Linda Linda....."
Wow! I clenched my fist feeling the fire rise in me again, I tried to shut it down because I can tolerate this much if I was to chose survival. I wanted to ask him why he chose me but my voice had already betrayed me... I no longer had the courage. I had to accept my fate. And then I promised myself as I stuffed onto his carriage looking at Davis's dearly eyes, If I lived, then He would regret getting me into this, He would regret trying to break me, little did I know that he was already broken .
"Okay, I accept it but under one condition...." I sighed , holding my breath.
"You will protect me until the end!" I stated my terms clearly. I wasn't going to die soon, especially by decisions I was forced to accept and if... just if this goes the way he wants... I would... maybe I would finally find a purpose of my own.
But even as I clearly stated my terms, his face carried the calm confidence of someone used to always getting what he wanted... there was a spark , a rare glint of satisfaction, like he had finally caught a prize that had eluded him before. His eyebrows arched ever so slightly, one higher than the other, in a teasing, almost predatory way. His eyes, sharp, calculating, lingered on me, flicking over my movements, my hesitation, as if every twitch of surprise or frustration was a personal delight.
A faint, knowing smirk played on his lips, one side curling more than the other, the kind of smirk that speaks of arrogance, amusement, and ownership all at once. There's no need for him to raise his voice; the tilt of his head, the slow, deliberate gaze, the subtle upturn of his lips, all scream that he's in control, and that watching me react gives him more pleasure than he would ever admit.
Even as he looked, there was a dangerous charm in it: part amusement, part condescension, part irresistible allure. It was the expression of a man who knew his power, knew his desire, and savored the fact that finally... finally.... he could take what he wanted without resistance.
"That, I bet my life on it!" With his faint smile, he replied.
I swallowed hard. while a drop of tear escaped my eyes, I had to rub it and remember this day. The rest is a tale of a beautiful story yet to tell.