Akhile stepped outside the mansion for the first time.
The gigantic door shut forcefully behind her, almost knocking her to the ground.
The air was different, more accommodating of her presence. There was no obligation or betrothal at hand. The aim was just to breathe.
She held her breath and took in the plush smell of damp earth and wild grass, not fancy leather or polished wood.
She paused at the top of the steps, paved with cobblestones. Akhile was marvelled by the view.
The Meadowlands stretched endlessly before her. There was rolling green shrubbery that went for miles beyond the eye could see. In some places, there appeared to be the presence of wildflowers and tall grass.
Far beyond this view, stood the Sacred Peaks. They were dark and grim, sort of the end of paradise and beginning of peril.
When the blood moon appears, it settles perfectly right in between the peaks.
Even with the macabre connotation, they were breathtaking to see.
"So, this is where I get to live out my second life," she thought.
She went down the steps, her long dress hissing against the stone. Gravel stones crunched beneath her boots as she walked to the courtyard, following a path that led to an orchard.
The trees were grown and generous, their branches sagging, bearing the weight of peaches, apples, and pomegranates.
Akhile reached out, brushing her fingers against a peach still warm from the sun.
The skin yielded slightly beneath her touch. She started salivating in anticipation, a little hungry after missing breakfast.
She yanked the peach free and took a sniff, ignoring the fuzz getting into her nose. It smelled real and supple, like joy had been decanted into something suitable enough to grasp.
She took a bite, juice running down her fingers, and smiled softly despite herself.
"Looks like you picked a good one."
The voice startled her.
Akhile turned quickly, wiping her hand against her dress, as if she were caught stealing and now, trying to hide the evidence.
A man stood on the other side of the tree, his sleeves rolled up, dirt smudged on his hands.
He was holding a basket already filled with fruit. His image filtered through the leaves, and the sunlight brightened his red hair, which was darker than Nathaniel's. He smiled at her, and it was easy for him to do so.
Akhile cleared her throat. "I didn't realise this was… Well, I-uh thought I was alone."
Norman chuckled. His teeth were perfect. Her heart started to race again. It would appear that her heart tended to misbehave in the presence of a man. How foolish.
"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't know this tree was taken," she continued. Akhile winced. What a silly thing to say.
"Oh, no need to apologise. I don't mind sharing it with you," he said gently.
Her lips twitched before she could stop them.
"You must be Norman," she said.
He blinked in admiration. "I am! And you must be Princess Cora." His gaze softened. "I should apologise if I startled you, your Highness."
Norman walked around the tree to be near her, to get a better look.
"You know, just Cora is fine…the princess thing…it's weird," she said carefully. "A little too uptight if you ask me," she continued, with a snort at the end.
"Cora," he replied. "Nathaniel doesn't stop talking about you. I have heard so much about you, it feels like… like I already know you."
She snorted again before remembering herself. "Does he ever stop talking at all?"
Norman laughed, genuine and warm, the sound coming out with ease from his core. "Rarely. He was born sounding like a news bulletin."
Akhile broke into a laugh. For the first time, she could let her guard down. There was no active surveillance.
"Shall you take a walk with me, your Highness?" asked Norman.
Akhile frowned at him.
"Apologies… Cora."
They walked between the trees together, the soil soft beneath her boots.
Akhile could smell manure or compost airing from Norman's clothes, but it was a good smell, a nurturing kind.
Norman showed her which fruit was ready, which needed another month, which tree had survived three bad winters and still bore sweeter peaches than any of the others.
"Norman, do you work here?" she asked.
"No! I wish," he said. "But I do have a farm, just down the meadow, in the woodlands."
Something in her chest loosened. A farmer. It explained why he was not uptight like Nathaniel.
She found herself telling him things about her fondness of the outdoors, how she wished to spend more time in nature. That the mansion felt restraining and woody.
He listened… really listened. There was no challenge or sparring of words.
"You don't speak like someone raised for duty," he said after a moment.
"I wasn't," she replied before she could stop herself.
Norman didn't press any further. He only nodded, accepting her feeling of wanting to be liberated.
"Well…Cora, your betrothal to my brother does not mean you cannot explore the outdoors. You are Princess of the Meadowlands. This is your ancestral birthright."
This is dangerous, she thought.
And still, she smiled.
"Although you should be discreet," Norman said lightly. "If my brother sees you out here unsupervised, with me, he'll assume I'm corrupting you."
"As long as he doesn't assume you're proposing," she said jokingly.
Norman grinned, his eyes almost pinched shut, before retracting. "He wouldn't be wrong to worry."
The air shifted.
Akhile felt it before she saw him. The subtle pulling, like the orchard itself, was panting, out of breath.
Nathaniel stood at the edge of the trees, dark against the green, observing them.
His gaze started with Akhile, then to the peach in her hand, then to Norman. He was judging her again.
"Brother," he said.
"Nathaniel," Norman replied, straightening slightly, patting his hands free from the dirt.
"I see you've found the orchard," Nathaniel said to Akhile. "It must do well for your late breakfast."
"I wanted to get some air...and eat," she answered. "I wasn't aware that it also requires permission."
His eyes sharpened.
"Everything requires permission," he said calmly."
Norman stepped in smoothly. "She was only walking. No treaties were penetrated."
Nathaniel ignored him.
"You should return inside," he said to Akhile, without breaking his stare at her. "The elders expect your presence at noon."
Akhile wiped her hands, then met his gaze steadily.
"I will," she said. "After I finish my peach."
For a second, the world stood still.
Then Nathaniel inclined his head. "As you wish, Cora."
Akhile frowned, "My name is Princess Cora, Sir."
Norman caught her look as Nathaniel turned away.
That was a warning, laced with a feeling almost controlled, or rehearsed.
Akhile took another bite of the peach.
And already, she knew that whatever life had been planned for Princess Cora, for her betrothal, she was about to rewrite it.