The Princess and the Playboy Prince

The following morning, the carefully negotiated peace treaty lay in ruins, reduced to mere ashes, before it had even been formally signed and finalized.

Rumors of Kael's "betrayal" spread more quickly than wildfire in both realms. The letter had reached the hand of each noble, the lips of each wag, the courts of each realm.

The council met in the early morning, just before dawn. Elara sat opposite her father, with a serene demeanor on her face, but a pounding heart and disheveled mind. Across from the other side of the table was Kael, who was disheveled and unshaven, with normally well-groomed and urbane finesse absent in an aura of deep and weary exhaustion.

"My father must be told in full detail about all that has occurred," declared King Alden emphatically. "The Varelions would not tolerate their beloved princess being wed to a man who is untrustworthy and dishonest."

Kael bowed stiffly. "Your Majesty, the accusation is false. Lady Mirelle is the daughter of my father's advisor. I spoke with her to solicit support for this treaty, that is all."

Lord Darnel snorted in disgust, clearly relaying that he was completely incredulous. "But yet, despite all of that, she was discovered in your bedchamber, well after midnight had passed?"

Kael's agitation increased as he gritted his teeth in outrage. "It was her brother who wrote that article. He is against the alliance we would form. If in the end the marriage fails, then that faction in Astren who desire war in the end would triumph. That is precisely what they would desire."

His eyes were cold and hard with a stony determination. "If that is the case, then demonstrate your innocence.

I will," said Kael emphatically - and then, as second habit, his gaze slipped to Elara, the tone of his words lingering in the midst of the air. "If I still have a reason to.".

She was taken aback. The room blurred for a second.

"Do you?" he asked quietly.

She wavered, caught between a knot of pride and some other, more primitive force that tugged at heartstrings. "I don't know," she said finally, and for some reason it hurt more than she had known it would.

The meeting adjourned in tense silence.

Later in the day, Kael decided to ride out by himself towards the border - in defiance of all caution and disregard of each guard's adamant objection. Elara stood outside in the balcony, her chest hammering powerfully in a combination of fear and rage as she saw him ride off.

"Leave him alone," said her father softly beside her. "If he comes back, then we shall know the truth."

But that night, when it thundered in the distance, she was unable to fall asleep.

It was some time before impulse got the better of her, when she donned a dark cloak and slipped into the stables. It was then that her mare, Astra, whinnied softly when Elara was saddling her.

Just one ride," she whispered. "To see for myself.".

The forest between Varelia and Astren was a dangerous no man's land - quiet, misted, haunted by the ghosts of battles past. The moon hung low, silvering the leaves.

She discovered Kael there, beside a smoldering campfire that crackled in the evening, with his horse tied close by. He was injured - a cut some inches deep that extended the length of his arm, blood soaking his sleeve in dark ominous blotches.

Your Highness," he whispered, not glancing about. "You shouldn't be here.".

"Neither you must," she said, dismounting. "You're wounded

He shrugged. "It was an attack on the road. Astren men, loyal to my brother. They do not want peace."

Elara inched nearer, her cloak for a moment brushing against the lush green grass in front of where she stood. "Were you truly willing to risk your life in a bid to demonstrate your worthiness?"

He looked up to encounter her gaze, their gaze flaring with indignation in the smoldering glow of the fire. "I risked that because I would not want you to think that I am the man they claim that I am."

Both of them stood still for a moment in fleeting silence. The storm released all of its fury around them - rain spouting angrily into the cooks' fire, and thunder shaking the ground that they were on.

She reached out with her hand to his arm, deliberately in spite of his protests, and began to clean the wound with water from her flask. Her hands trembled minutely, revealing her agitation. "You're such a fool," she said in low tones. "A reckless, arrogant fool."

A faint smile appeared on his lips, barely noticeable yet somehow significant. "And yet, despite everything, you still came after me."

"You need someone to watch out for your stupidity before it kills you."

Lightning illuminated - bright, blinding - and then he grasped her wrist, pulling her close. She felt the rapid throb of the beat of his heart, uneven and erratic.

Elara," he whispered, pronouncing her name almost as some kind of holy prayer reserved for godly ears. "Tell me, please, that you honestly do not care.

She opened her lips - perhaps to flatly deny it, to strongly push him away from them - but the words she meant to utter disappeared utterly amidst the thunder. His hand came up softly, brushing aside a fine strand of rain-soaked hair from her forehead, and his touch remained for longer than she had expected.

I completely hate the fact that you make me feel that way," she sighed softly.

"Then we're both cursed," he whispered.

The rain fell more intensely, drenching them both, but neither budged. The tension that had brewed for weeks at last cracked - her lips touched his, fierce and shaking, the kiss that was born of anger and yearning and all that had remained unspoken.

For a heartbeat, the world was nothing but rain and heat and the taste of something forbidden.

She sat back, gasping, shining eyes. "This doesn't change anything.

"Yes, it is," he said softly, his voice little more than a whisper. "The problem is that you downright fail to believe it."

She looked away, gripping the material of her cloak tightly as she did. "If we just so happen to get caught-"

"We shall not be," he said forcefully. "But in case we happen to turn out to be so. make them understand it was not politics that caused me to seek you out."

Her chest ached. "You'll spoil all that we've worked for."

He smiled, a nuanced face that spoke of fatigue, sadness, and a sort of prettiness. "Then let it burn," he declared with emotion, "if it means you shall finally believe me."

She looked at him for what would appear to her an age - the arrogant prince with airs of superiority, the impulsive gladiator with no bounds for courage, the man who, in spite of all sense, could make her heart revolt against its own sensibilities.

Then she spoke in a low voice, "Please return to the palace. Showcase your sincerity and integrity in the sight of the court."

He agreed. "At dawn."

As they rode back in concert through the raging tempest, the flames that burned behind them hissed menacingly and finally died - but the fire of communion that danced between them burned more brightly than it ever had before.

And somewhere deep in the shadows, a hidden form remained watchful - the seal of Astren shining brightly on his armor, catching and casting dim gleams of light in the darkness.

The brother of the prince.