⋆ ˚｡⋆୨Evelynne's pov୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
The sound of hooves against the dirt path echoed beneath the canopy of green. Sunlight filtered through the leaves like falling gold, casting dappled light across their trail. Birds sang overhead, and the scent of pine and lilacs drifted lazily on the breeze.
I laughed ahead of him, my hair flying loose as my horse galloped through the trees. Ember moved like wind beneath her, and she looked like something out of a legend—wild, beautiful, and utterly free.
Rowen followed, guiding his own horse with practiced ease, but his eyes never left me. Not once.
We'd taken this trail a hundred times since we were children, but this morning felt different. The world seemed to hold its breath for us—just us.
When we reached the meadow, I slowed my horse to a gentle stop and turned back with that sunlit grin of mine. "Race won!" I said proudly.
Rowen caught up beside me, breathing hard but smiling. "Only because you cheated."
"I didn't cheat."
"You said we'd start at the gate. You started at the stables."
I shrugged, dismounting with a soft laugh. "I'm a princess. Rules bend for me."
"And you still only beat me by a second."
"A second is a second," I teased, walking toward the tall grass. "Come on, help me bring down the basket."
Rowen dismounted and grabbed the small saddlebag I had brought—lined with a cloth, tucked with wild berries, a folded blanket, and something wrapped in parchment. He handed it to me wordlessly, and I smiled up at him, our hands brushing.
The moment lingered longer than it should have.
I looked away quickly, cheeks a little flushed. "Let's sit by the water."
We made our way to a quiet spot where a shallow stream curved gently through the meadow. Rowen laid out the blanket while I slipped off my boots, letting my bare feet sink into the cool grass.
We sat close—closer than we used to. Our shoulders touched when I leaned to hand him a berry. Neither of us pulled away.
"So," I said softly, after a while, "tell me what's on your mind today."
He didn't answer right away. The wind rustled through the trees above us, carrying the soft hush of water and leaves.
"I've been thinking about us," he finally said.
I turned my head slowly. "Us?"
Our eyes met.
Not as a boy looking up to a princess.
Not as a friend pretending not to ache.
Just… him. Just me.
"You and me," he said quietly. "How we never needed anyone else when we had this."
I smiled, but there was something tender in it. Vulnerable.
"I think about that too," I admitted. "Sometimes I miss when things were simple."
Rowen looked down at our hands—his glove half-off, mine still stained with berry juice. He reached for my fingers gently, lacing them with his.
My breath hitched.
"I don't want to lose what we have," I whispered.
He squeezed my hand, voice low and aching. "You'll never lose me, Evelynne."
But even as he said it, part of him shattered. Because he knew he couldn't keep that promise—not for long.
I leaned my head against his shoulder, my voice soft. "I feel like something's changing."
Rowen closed his eyes.
It is.
But instead of saying it, he turned and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. Just once.
And I didn't move.
I stayed there beside him, fingers still tangled with his, listening to the stream, the wind, and the silence that said more than either of them could.
******
The stream glittered beneath the sunlight, winding gently through the meadow like a silver ribbon. It was shallow here, the kind of place where, as children, we used to splash barefoot and race leaves like tiny boats.
I stood up first, lifting the hem of my riding skirt just above my ankles. "You remember when I pushed you in right here?" I asked, stepping into the water with a mischievous grin.
Rowen raised a brow. "You didn't push me. I fell."
"You tripped," I corrected, already stepping deeper in. "After I splashed you. Repeatedly."
Rowen laughed, slipping off his boots. "You're lucky I didn't pull you in with me."
I smiled at him over my shoulder, sunlight warming the edges of my braid. "I wanted you to."
That made him pause. Just for a second.
I waded in farther, water lapping at my calves. I dipped my hands in, scooped some toward him, and tossed it with a flick.
It hit his shirt.
"Alright," he said, grinning, "you asked for it."
Rowen stepped into the stream, slow and steady, as I squealed and backed away—but not fast enough.
With one sweep of his hand, water splashed on my shoulder and side. I gasped, laughed, and retaliated. It became a blur of movement—splash after splash, giggles echoing through the trees.
Our laughter filled the clearing, bright and breathless.
I nearly slipped, and Rowen caught me by my waist just in time. But neither of us moved away.
I was standing close—too close now—and his hand was still around my waist. Drops of water clung to my cheek, my lashes. My braid had loosened, and strands of dark hair curled around my face like ivy.
Rowen's heart thundered.
"You're soaked," he whispered.
"So are you," I said, my voice barely above a breath.
My eyes dropped to his lips.
He swallowed hard, still holding my hand in the stream. His fingers trembled slightly around mine, but not from the cold.
It would be so easy to lean in. To close the last inches between us.
But instead, I smiled—so softly, so shyly—and let go of his hand.
I walked a few paces downstream, dipping my feet into the water slowly, turning my face to the breeze. "It's warmer than I expected," I murmured. "I used to think it was freezing."
"That's because you were always too impatient to wait for the sun," Rowen replied, moving beside me again. "You'd run in without thinking."
"I still do that."
"I know," he said, smiling.
I turned to him again, this time slower.
Something about the light in my eyes… the way my gaze lingered on him longer than before… the way my fingers brushed his arm, not accidentally this time.
"I don't think I ever stopped loving this place," I said. "Not once. It's the only place in the world that ever really felt like mine."
Rowen looked down at me, and this time, he didn't hide what was in his eyes.
"It was never just the place," he said quietly. "It's who you were when you were here."
I held his gaze. My chest rose and fell once, then again.
"Then stay," I whispered. "Always stay here—with me."
Rowen looked at me—his Evelynne. The girl who had once danced barefoot in puddles and now stood before him, beautiful and brave, my heart opened, like it had always been.
He wanted to say yes.
He wanted to promise me forever.
Instead, he reached for my hand and lifted it gently, brushing his lips across my damp knuckles. Soft. Reverent. Careful, because this was sacred.
"I'll always find my way back to you," he said.
My eyes shimmered.
His hand still hovered close to mine. My breath was shallow, my eyes locked on his. The distance between us had dissolved into something delicate and magnetic.
Rowen was a few inches from me—his hand still half-outstretched, my fingers barely letting go of his.
We weren't laughing anymore.
Now, our breath came quieter. Slower.
He stared at me like he'd never seen me before, and me… I looked up at him like I had just realized something dangerous—and didn't want to stop it.
His thumb brushed over my hand.
"Evelynne," he whispered.
My lips parted slightly. My gaze flicked down—just for a heartbeat—to his mouth.
The moment was so fragile, so perfect it almost hurt.
He leaned in, close that our lips almost touched—
"Well," a voice broke through, sharp as a snapped twig, "this looks... intimate."