13 The Inevitable

But today hadn’t started well from the very beginning. It had rained during the night, and I’d managed to stain the dress Alaya had kindly given me while feeding the animals. To make things worse, I’d already been wandering around the local market for forty minutes, trying in vain to find paparita—a dark-blue vegetable that tasted a bit like zucchini.

When I stopped by the stall where Alaya usually bought it, the merchant regretfully told me they’d run out and suggested I check a booth between the last two houses on the square.

But I never made it there.

Out of nowhere, a group of children and teenagers swept me up into a whirlwind of song and laughter, spinning me in a playful dance right there on the street. I barely had time to blink before they scattered in all directions, leaving me stumbling backward. Someone shoved me harder than the others, and my feet tangled together—I crashed right into the mud.

I knew this trick.

Cursing under my breath, I immediately checked my pockets.

Of course. They’d robbed me clean!

I couldn’t possibly go back to Alaya empty-handed—and without money on top of that!

So, after muttering a few choice curses, I sprang to my feet and bolted after those little brats. They’d darted right between the two houses the merchant had pointed out earlier.

I almost caught up to one of them when I rounded the corner—and slammed shoulder-first into something solid. The impact sent me flying forward, eyes squeezing shut, bracing for a painful collision with the ground.

But I never hit it.

Instead, strong arms caught me mid-fall, holding me firmly against a solid chest.

It took me a second to recover from the shock. I blinked one eye open, then the other—and found myself staring at a broad chest covered in expensive fabric and pieces of battle armor. My gaze slowly trailed upward, and when I saw his face, my breath caught in my throat.

I had never seen anyone so stunning in my life.

The man holding me was tall and powerfully built, with tousled chestnut hair and piercing light-gray eyes that seemed to look straight into my soul.

We stood frozen like that, staring at each other. I—utterly incapable of tearing my gaze away. He was perfect.

A straight nose, sinfully tempting lips, a cocky arch of his brows, and a light stubble that only added to his allure. My heart raced wildly, and my mouth fell open in awe. A wave of heat flushed through my cheeks, and I felt ridiculously flustered.

Then his scent hit me—clean, masculine, and expensive, like fine cologne—and my brain officially short-circuited.

All I could think about was how much I wanted to press closer, to whisper, “Ruin me completely… more than once!”

If I could lose the one thing that made me eligible for that creepy king’s contest—with this man—I’d do it without a second thought. Forgive me, Anton.

The magic of the moment shattered when the man narrowed his eyes, finally releasing me and giving me a slow, assessing look from head to toe.

“I didn’t think our kingdom had any rascals,” the handsome man sneered, twisting his mouth.

“What?! Who’s the rascal here?!” I snap, unable to tolerate his obvious rudeness. That turkey suddenly stops being so unbearably handsome.

“Naziza, be quiet!” I hear Manar bark from behind the chestnut-haired man. “Kays, this is her.”

Turning, I see that behind this gorgeous jerk, Kays, stands a whole delegation of armed men and the village leader. It’s as clear as day that they’ve come for me — so I bolt. My chances of getting away are slim, of course, but my legs already carry me in the opposite direction.

Not for long.

Just before I can tear off, a bright spark flashes in the chestnut’s eyes. A couple of steps later my legs simply give out, and I go sprawling into a fresh puddle. I feel muddy water seep into my cleavage and dirt drip from my hair.

This is not just anger — it’s pure, white-hot fury. I try to stand, but my legs won’t obey! What kind of day is this?!

I hear slow, confident footsteps and see the jerk crouch down beside me, peering into my eyes with curious intent.

“Where do you think you’re running off to, Prepedollie?” the young man mocks, and I feel with every wet inch of my body that this is his doing.

“Who?!” I hiss like a snake, wanting him to drown in the puddle where I lie as he inspects me like some strange, unseen creature.

“A replacement, you say, Manar?” Kays tilts his head and addresses the village elder, looking at me with interest. “Maybe this one will do… Especially since your daughter’s heart belongs to another. The king needs an unattached lady to form a family.” He smirks. “We’ll take her. And for all that’s holy, get this ragamuffin into some kind of decent shape,” the chestnut man sneers as he stands.