Sold To The Cruel Prince

People began to gather, drawn first by the roses and then, as always, by the promise of drama. Curious eyes lingered a little too long, whispers passed from one person to another, and within moments, the small scene had turned into a spectacle.

"Even a single rose is beyond most people’s reach," Flora said, her voice sweet with accusation. "How could your peasant husband afford an entire bouquet?"

Isolde stepped forward, eager to add fuel to the fire. "These flowers bloom only once a month. They never sell this much to a single person. How could anyone possibly have this much unless they are...stealing them?"

Aveline’s grip on the bouquet tightened slightly, but before she could respond, Theron spoke.

"Why would I need to steal?"

His voice was calm, almost amused, as though the entire accusation barely deserved his attention. He lifted his hand and gently rested it on Aveline’s head, a gesture so natural, so intimate, that it silenced a few of the closer onlookers.

"For a month, in this entire kingdom, only my wife will have these flowers," he said, his tone light but deliberate. "That alone makes them worth more than anything else."

Aveline’s heart skipped.

My wife.

The words echoed far louder than they should have.

She clutched the bouquet to her chest, her fingers curling protectively around the delicate stems. It had been a long time since she had received anything like this—something chosen, something given to her. And this... this was no small trinket.

This was extravagant.

This was rare.

This was his.

His first gift to her.

"You didn’t have to spend so much," she said, though the faint brightness in her eyes betrayed her completely.

Theron looked at her and smiled, a quiet, knowing curve of his lips that said he understood exactly what she meant, and what she didn’t.

For that expression alone, he would have paid ten times over.

Behind them, Flora and her friends seethed, their irritation sharpening into something uglier as they watched the two of them stand there, entirely unbothered, entirely content.

"Guards!" Flora snapped, her voice rising above the murmurs.

That was all it took.

The word spread quickly, rippling through the growing crowd. People pressed closer, emboldened by the accusation, their attention no longer just curious, but hungry. The roses were rare enough to be displayed behind glass, admired from a distance. And now, here they were, within reach.

Too close.

Too tempting.

Theron’s gaze swept over the crowd, his expression cooling as he recognized the shift. It was no longer about Flora.

It was about want.

Aveline felt it too. She instinctively drew the bouquet closer, shielding it against her chest as hands began to reach, not boldly, not yet, but enough to test the boundary, to see if they could brush against a petal, pluck a piece, take something that wasn’t theirs.

Theron glanced around, searching for the shopkeeper, but the man was already gone, his stall shuttered and abandoned. His eyes shifted again, catching glimpses of his knights trying to push through the crowd, but it was too dense now, too restless. They wouldn’t reach him in time.

And then... Aveline moved. She grabbed his wrist without warning, her grip firm, urgent.

"Run."

She didn’t wait for agreement.

She pulled him with her and plunged straight into the crowd.

For a heartbeat, Theron was caught off guard, but then the world shifted into motion. Aveline didn’t hesitate, didn’t slow. She pushed forward with surprising force, her voice rising just enough to cut through the noise, sharp and commanding.

People moved, unconsciously and willingly.

The crowd parted just enough, creating a narrow, shifting path, and before anyone could properly react, they were already through, slipping out of the chaos and into the quiet of a narrow alleyway.

Silence followed them. It felt almost surreal.

Theron didn’t resist, didn’t call for his knights. Instead, with a subtle motion, he signaled them to stand down. He could already feel Kael’s presence somewhere behind them, distant but watchful.

And then he looked at her.

Aveline was laughing... freely, brightly, and unrestrained, as though she had just done something wildly entertaining rather than narrowly escaping a mob.

For a moment, he simply watched her and something in his chest shifted.

It felt... familiar.

That same laughter... That same reckless spark, as the day she had chosen him, over her friends, and over her place.

Him.

The day she had turned on those who tormented him and made them taste their own cruelty. The day she had fought back

for him. A quiet laugh escaped him, low and genuine, as he fell into step beside her.

His Aveline.

She hadn’t changed, not where it mattered.

And as he ran beside her, pulled along by her energy, by her sheer, unstoppable presence, something loosened within him; something he hadn’t realized had been tightly wound for years.

For once... He felt light.

He felt... free, as though, just for this fleeting moment, the weight of who he was, and everything that came with it, had slipped clean off his shoulders.

By the time they slowed, they had reached a quieter corner of the market, tucked away from the noise and chaos they had just escaped. The air felt calmer here, almost untouched by the frenzy behind them.

"That was close," Aveline said, laughing softly as she caught her breath, one hand pressed lightly against her chest. "I’ve never run like that in my whole life."

Theron said nothing at first.

His gaze lingered on her... on the fine sheen of sweat along her skin, the way a single droplet traced a slow path from her temple down the curve of her cheek, slipping along her jaw before disappearing beneath her collar, down her cleavage. His throat tightened slightly, and he looked away a moment too late.

Aveline, completely unaware, had already turned her full attention back to the roses.

"I didn’t even know flowers like this existed," she murmured, her voice softer now, filled with quiet wonder. She tilted the bouquet slightly, watching as the petals caught the light and shifted—blue melting into iridescent hues, shimmering like something pulled from a dream rather than grown from soil.

"And it smells amazing," she added, bringing them a little closer, breathing in the delicate, soothing fragrance as if trying to memorize it.

Theron’s lips curved faintly.

"A lot has changed in ten years, Aveline," he said.

She nodded absently, her eyes still fixed on the roses, as though the rest of the world had faded into the background.

"I’ll show you," he continued.

She nodded again, still distracted, still smiling at the bouquet like it was the most precious thing she had ever held.

Theron watched her for a moment longer, something unreadable passing through his expression.

And then, without warning, he reached out and pulled her toward him.

Aveline startled, the movement sudden enough to break her focus entirely. Her breath caught as she found herself pressed lightly against his chest, the roses trapped gently between them.

His hand, firm but not forceful, steadied her, and something between them shifted.

And then, Theron lowered his head.