For the next month, Ridoy became a shadow. He learned the secret passages out of the palace—tunnels used by servants and spies. Every Tuesday and Friday, he would shed his royal regalia for a simple brown cloak and meet Nila at the edge of the Willow Woods.
He brought her books from the royal library; she brought her stories of the streets.
"Is it true the palace floors are made of glass?" she asked one evening as they sat by a stream.
"No," Ridoy laughed, skipping a stone across the water. "Just cold, hard marble. It's actually quite lonely. Every footsteps echoes, reminding you that you're alone."
Nila leaned her head on his shoulder. "In the attic, it's noisy. The roof leaks, and the neighbors fight. But when my mother hums while she sews, it feels... full. I think I'd take the noise over the echoes."
As the weeks turned into months, the friendship deepened into a desperate, aching love. Ridoy found in Nila a reality he had never known—a world where people were valued for their kindness rather than their lineage. Nila found in Ridoy a soul that was gentle, curious, and trapped by a destiny he never asked for.
The secret could not last forever. In a kingdom built on gossip, a Prince disappearing into the woods does not go unnoticed.
King Alaric called Ridoy to the throne room. The air was thick with the scent of incense and authority. "You have been seen, Ridoy. With a seamstress's daughter. A girl who owns nothing but the rags on her back."
"Her name is Nila," Ridoy said, his voice steady despite the trembling of his hands. "And she has more dignity in her pinky finger than this entire court has in its bloodline."
The King's face turned a dangerous shade of purple. "You are the future of Aethelgard. You are betrothed to Princess Isabella of the Western Isles. You will cease this madness, or the girl and her mother will be exiled from the city tonight."
Ridoy felt the world tilting. The choice was impossible: his duty to the crown or the life of the woman he loved.