Maya carefully made her way through the palace corridors, dodging busy servants and ducking under hanging tapestries. Following the sound of clashing metal and sharp shouts, she stepped into a wide courtyard she hadn't seen before.
Her eyes immediately widened.
Several young men were sparring with swords, their movements precise and powerful. Muscles flexed and glistened with sweat in the sunlight. Maya felt herself drawn closer, unable to resist.
She inched forward, careful not to make a sound, her eyes scanning the lines of toned abs and broad shoulders. Every swing, every parry seemed to call for her attention.
Then, abruptly, all the swords stopped. The men froze mid-strike, their sharp gazes flicking over her.
Instinctively—and completely without thinking—Maya reached out and lightly pressed a finger against one of the closest young man's abs.
"Wow… he'd be a perfect model," she muttered under her breath.
Immediately, her eyes went wide. Oh no. Oh no no no! She jumped back, hands clutching her skirts, cheeks burning red.
The swordsmen shifted uncomfortably, some glancing at her in confusion, others clearly trying not to laugh. Maya pressed her hands to her face, muttering, Why did I just do that?! I can't… can't… stop thinking. Focus, Maya!
Her heart raced as she took a few steps back, trying to regain her composure. The courtyard seemed suddenly enormous, and every glistening muscle still drew her eyes despite her embarrassment.
Maya's thoughts: Okay… breathe. Just act normal. Totally normal. Didn't touch anyone else. Didn't… okay. Moving on.
Maya was still trying to calm her racing heart when she heard deliberate, heavy footsteps approaching. She glanced up—and froze.
Darcy had appeared at the edge of the training ground, tall, broad, and impossibly composed. His dark eyes swept over her calmly, though deep down something flickered—subtle, almost imperceptible. Annoyance? Curiosity? Something else…
The guards nearby stiffened instantly, faces unmoving, eyes straight ahead, clearly terrified of their crown prince. Not a single one dared to breathe out of place.
Maya's stomach twisted. Oh no. Of course it's him. Why is it always him?
Darcy's gaze landed on her, steady and unreadable. Maya realized she had been staring at the swordsmen—and maybe… still had her hands hovering mid-air in embarrassment. She quickly dropped them to her sides, straightening her back.
"Your Highness," she stammered, voice tight. "I… I was just… walking…"
Darcy's lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. "Walking… among swordsmen?" he said, his tone calm, but the faint tilt of his head suggested he was holding back amusement.
Maya swallowed hard. "Yes… I… I didn't mean to disturb anyone! I just… I was curious."
Darcy's eyes narrowed slightly—not in anger, but in careful observation. Then, in a low, quiet voice that carried just enough sharpness to make her freeze, he muttered, "I see you have the habit of going around touching men."
Maya's eyes went wide, and her cheeks flamed red. Wait… what? Did he just…?
He didn't scold her, didn't move toward her, didn't even raise his voice. Yet the slight twitch at his jaw, the faint pull of curiosity in his eyes, made her heart race. Guards remained rigid, tense, and silent, as if Darcy's presence alone had frozen the entire courtyard.
"Return to the path," Darcy finally said, voice calm and unwavering. "Do not linger here."
"Yes, Your Highness," Maya replied quickly, curtsying as best she could, cheeks burning furiously.
As Darcy walked away, tall, confident, and outwardly unbothered, Maya exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her face. How does he manage to look both terrifying and perfect… and somehow notice me without even saying it?
She decided it was probably safest to follow the rules from now on—and definitely avoid touching anyone else in the palace.
Maya's cheeks still burned as she hurried away from the training grounds, pressing her hands to her face and muttering under her breath. Okay… that definitely did not just happen. Focus, Maya. Focus. Don't trip over the floorboards… or imagine Darcy shirtless again…
The guards she passed kept their distance, eyes sharp, posture rigid, clearly still uneasy from the crown prince's presence. Maya gave a small, awkward smile but moved quickly, trying not to draw attention.
So… Darcy notices everything. Even when he pretends not to. she thought, shaking her head. And he said that thing… about touching men. I mean… wow. Did he just call me out? Or tease me? Or both?
Her mind went over every moment: the swords, the glistening muscles, the sudden halt in training, Darcy's calm yet piercing gaze. The memory of her hands brushing against one of the swordsmen's abs made her stomach twist again.
Note to self: never… ever… touch anyone again unless you want the crown prince to notice you and your face to burn for a week, she muttered, imagining the absurdity of the situation.
The palace corridors stretched out before her as she walked back, sunlight glinting on polished floors and gilded doors. Every statue, every tapestry, every carved doorway seemed far too grand for someone like her to just wander casually. Yet, somehow, she couldn't stop herself from glancing at each detail, wondering who had crafted it all and what rules she was meant to follow.
She passed a mirror in one of the hallways and paused. The reflection staring back was delicate and petite, with dark hair that fell in soft waves around her shoulders, contrasting with the sturdy, commanding figures she'd just seen on the training ground. She tugged slightly at her corset, wincing again. Ugh… why do these things feel like torture devices?
By the time she reached her chamber, Maya's steps slowed. She leaned against the doorframe, exhaling deeply. I survived the training grounds. Darcy didn't scold me… exactly. Guards didn't throw me out. And somehow… somehow I didn't faint from embarrassment. That's progress, right?
Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she allowed herself a small, wry smile. Next time, though… I'm staying away from sparring men, shiny abs, and crown princes. Or at least… trying.
Despite her attempt to relax, a small part of her mind couldn't stop thinking about Darcy's sharp gaze, the quiet amusement hidden in the tilt of his head, and the subtle flicker of feeling that passed over his face.
Maya's thoughts: Why does he have to make everything so… infuriatingly complicated?
She sighed and leaned back, letting the afternoon sun warm her face. For now, the palace felt overwhelming, intimidating, and slightly terrifying—but she also couldn't deny it was… fascinating.
By the time Maya returned to her chamber, she thought she had narrowly escaped disaster. Her cheeks still burned from the training grounds encounter, and she flopped onto her bed, burying her face in her hands.
Okay… survived. Nobody noticed, right? she muttered.
But news traveled fast in the palace. The maids whispered among themselves, simple words carrying the story:
"The princess… she touched his body."
"I saw it too… right on his chest!"
"She's… so bold."
The queen sat quietly in her chambers, teacup in hand, her eyes drifting over the gardens outside. A faint, calm smile curved her lips as she murmured to herself:
Bold… not like a princess at all. Let's see how she handles herself.
A maid, already attentive and waiting nearby, bowed slightly. The queen gave a small, imperceptible nod, and the maid immediately understood. Without a word, she left the room, hurrying to fetch Maya.
Maya, still brushing her hair and unaware of the whispers or the queen's thoughts, heard the maid announce her summons. Curiosity pricked at her—what does she want?
She rose from her bed, smoothed her skirts, and followed the maid out of the room, curiosity and nerves tangling in her chest.