The ancient Cherry Blossom tree was a canopy of pink clouds against the night sky. Its roots, thick and gnarled, coiled around the hilltop like sleeping dragons, creating natural nooks sheltered from the wind.
In one of these nooks, Arthur was not sleeping well.
His stomach gave a growl loud enough to startle a badger. Arthur cracked one eye open, shifting against the hard rock he was using as a pillow. He was cold, his neck hurt, and the glorious freedom of the capital currently tasted like dust and regret.
I should have stolen a loaf of bread before I ran, he thought miserably. Or a blanket. Or a softer rock.
A twig snapped.
Arthur sat up instantly, his hand darting to the handle of his wood-axe. The hum in his blood flared, sharpening his hearing. Footsteps. Light, quick, and coming straight up the hill.
Guards, he thought, panic tightening his chest. They found me.
He scrambled backward, pressing himself into the deep shadow of the tree trunk. He held his breath, watching the crest of the hill.
A figure appeared. It wasn't a guard in clanking armor, but a slender person wrapped in a heavy gray cloak. They were moving stealthily, checking behind them every few steps. The figure reached the top, let out a long, dramatic sigh of relief, and collapsed onto the grass a few feet away from Arthur.
"Finally," a girl's voice whispered. She pulled a woolen cap off her head, shaking out golden hair that seemed to catch the moonlight. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a skewer of roasted meat that smelled like heaven itself.
Arthur's stomach betrayed him. It let out a roar that sounded like a dying bear.
The girl froze. She spun around, her eyes widening as she spotted Arthur in the shadows. She didn't scream. Instead, she dropped into a defensive crouch that looked surprisingly practiced.
"Who's there?" she demanded. Her voice wasn't scared; it was commanding.
Arthur realized he was holding an axe. He slowly let go of the handle and raised his hands. "I'm not a guard!"
"A guard?" The girl blinked, lowering her guard slightly. She squinted at him. "You look more like a scarecrow that fell off a wagon."
Arthur frowned, stepping into the light. "Hey! I'm... a traveler. A very dangerous traveler I might add."
The girl looked him up and down—at his dusty farm tunic, his messy hair, and the way he was eyeing her meat skewer like a starving wolf. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Terrifying," she deadpanned. She took a bite of the meat, chewing slowly. "So, dangerous traveler, what are you doing in my hiding spot?"
"Your hiding spot?" Arthur crossed his arms, trying to look imposing despite his growling stomach. "I was here first. And for the record, creeping around in a cloak at midnight? That's suspicious." He narrowed his eyes. "Wait. You were checking behind you. You're running from the guards too, aren't you?"
Erika paused. She swallowed the bite. Technically true, she thought.
"Maybe," she said coyly.
Arthur gasped, pointing a finger at her. "I knew it! You're a thief!"
Erika choked on a piece of gristle. She coughed, pounding her chest. "A... excuse me?"
"You're a thief," Arthur stated confidently, clutching his empty coin pouch protectively. "You stole that meat, didn't you? And you're hiding up here to eat the evidence. Stay back! I have... three copper pieces, and I will defend them!"
Erika stared at him. She was the High Queen of Aethelgard. Her crown was worth more than this boy's entire village. And this dusty farmboy thought she was after his three copper pieces.
Laughter bubbled up in her chest. It started as a giggle and erupted into a full, unladylike laugh. She laughed until her sides hurt, collapsing back onto the grass.
"What's so funny?" Arthur asked, offended.
"You!" Erika wiped a tear from her eye. "Oh, by the gods. You think I'm a thief?" She sat up, composing herself, though her eyes danced with mirth. "Actually... I am the Queen. I am Queen Erika, ruler of these lands."
Arthur stared at her for a second. Then he snorted. "Yeah. Right. And I'm the King of Ozyra. Nice to meet you, Your Majesty."
"You don't believe me?"
"Look at you," Arthur gestured to her oversized trousers and muddy boots. "You dress worse than my uncle, and he wears potato sacks. If you're the Queen, where's your crown? Where are your knights?"
"I left crown back home," Erika shot back without missing a beat.
"Sure," Arthur rolled his eyes. "Admit it. You're a thief. It's fine. I won't tell."
Erika looked at the boy. He was rough around the edges, simple, and completely oblivious. He looked at her not with reverence or fear, but with the suspicion one gives a rival for a lunch spot.
It was refreshing to her.
"Fine," Erika sighed, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "You caught me. I'm a thief. The best in the city. They call me... The Snatcher."
"The Snatcher?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "That's a terrible name."
"It's a work in progress," she snapped playfully. She looked at the skewer in her hand, then at Arthur's hungry eyes. She sighed again, breaking the skewer in half. She tossed the bigger piece to him. "Here. You look like you're about to eat your own boots."
Arthur caught it, looking at her with wide eyes. "You're sharing? But you stole this."
"I'm a thief with a heart of gold," Erika winked. "Eat up, King of Ozyra."
Arthur didn't need telling twice. He devoured the meat, the savory grease tasting better than any royal banquet. They sat in silence for a moment, watching the city lights twinkle below them like a reflection of the stars. "Leo and Maya would have loved this."
"I'm Arthur," he said after he finished, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
"Erika," she replied. She didn't use a fake name. Why bother? He wouldn't believe her anyway.
"So, Erika," Arthur leaned back against the tree, feeling surprisingly comfortable with this strange girl. "What did you steal? Jewels? Gold?"
"Freedom," Erika murmured, looking out at the castle towers looming in the distance. "Just for a few hours."
Arthur nodded solemnly. "I get that. I ran away from home to see this place. My village elders... they act like the world ends at the river. I just wanted to see if the stories were true."
Erika turned to him, studying his profile in the moonlight. "And? Are they?"
Arthur looked down at the sprawling city. "It's big. And loud. And I lost my friends because of it. They got caught by guards sent by my village elders." His voice cracked slightly. "But... yeah. It's amazing."
Erika felt a pang of sympathy. She bumped his shoulder with hers. "Well, Arthur from the Village. Since we're both fugitives tonight... how about a truce? I won't steal your three coppers, and you don't turn me in to the guards."
Arthur grinned. "Deal. But only if you show me where you got that meat."
Erika laughed, standing up and brushing grass from her cloak. She offered a hand to pull him up. Her grip was surprisingly strong.
"I can do better than that," she said, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of adventure. "I know this city better than the rats. You want to see if the stories are true? Come on. I'll show you the parts the guidebooks leave out."
Arthur took her hand. The hum in his blood didn't flare this time. Instead, it settled into a warm, steady rhythm, like a song waiting to be sung.
"Lead the way, Snatcher," Arthur said.
And together, the Queen and the Farmboy ran down the hill, into the waiting arms of the night.