The carriage wheels rattled over the uneven cobblestones as we entered the market district, the lively hum of merchants and shoppers swelling around us. Through the window, my gaze landed on a familiar sight—a modest stall with a hand-painted sign that read Honey Twirls, its wares glistening under the afternoon sun.
The treat was simple genius—soft, pillowy dough wrapped around sweetened cream, dipped in melted chocolate, and skewered on thin sticks for easy eating. Commoner's fare, perhaps, but in my opinion, they could put even the palace's pastries to shame.
"Wait here," I said, unlatching the carriage door before Lannette could object.
The moment my boots hit the street, I felt eyes on me—not just the ever-watchful royal guards, but the curious glances of market-goers wondering why an ordinary-looking man had stepped from a royal carriage. Ignoring them, I strode to the stall.
"Three sticks, please," I told the wide-eyed vendor, pressing coins into his calloused palm before he could refuse. The scent of toasted dough and melted chocolate wrapped around me, warm and comforting.
"Here, they are the most delicious sweet you can find around here."
Back inside, I handed one to Sara, one to Lannette, and kept the third for myself. Without ceremony, I took a bite, letting the flavors unfold—the crisp exterior, the rich cream, the bittersweet chocolate.
Then I stared at Lannette, as if to say, See? Not poisoned.
The knight broke off a piece, sniffed it, then placed it cautiously on her tongue. Her stern expression didn't change, but I caught the subtle relaxation in her shoulders as the taste registered.
Sara watched us like a scholar observing an experiment. Seeing neither of us collapse, she brought the treat to her lips with exaggerated care, taking the tiniest nibble.
Then—
Her rose-gold eyes widened.
Before anyone could react, she demolished the entire stick in four rapid bites. A smudge of chocolate clung to the corner of her mouth as she mumbled, "This is... much better than the castle's desserts."
I smirked. "Told you."
Sara caught herself, her wonder hardening into practiced haughtiness. "I-It's merely... acceptable," she amended, lifting her chin. But her fingers twitched toward my remaining half.
Lannette sighed—the long-suffering exhale of someone who had seen this before.
"Want another?" I asked.
Sara's gaze flicked to the stall, then to Lannette, who—after a moment's pause—nodded.
The market street froze when we emerged from the carriage—a tableau of stunned faces as commoners took in the sight of a princess in embroidered silk standing beside a humble sweets stall.
The shopkeeper turned white as flour, bowing so deeply I heard his spine pop. "Y-Your Highness! Please, take whatever—"
I dropped a handful of coins on the counter before he could finish. (Technically the shop's money, which meant it was Sara's anyway. The circular economy of my suffering.)
Sara, either oblivious or willfully ignoring the chaos she caused, pointed at trays with imperial decisiveness.
"That one. And those. What's in the glazed ones? Are those nuts? I want two without—no, three. And what's that golden drizzle made of?"
Then I noticed them—a cluster of street children, five or six years old, hovering at the edge of the crowd. Their threadbare clothes hung loose, but it was their eyes that caught me—locked on the sweets with a hunger that went beyond craving.
A royal guard shifted, raising a hand to shoo them away.
"Stop."
Sara's voice wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of command. The guard froze.
Without another word, the princess grabbed a fistful of honey twirls and marched toward the children. They shrank back—until Sara thrust two sticks at each of them with a brusque, "Here."
The children stared—first at the treats, then at the guards, then back at Sara—before snatching them and scattering like startled sparrows, their chorus of "Thank you, miss!" trailing behind.
Sara watched them go, her expression caught between satisfaction and something softer—before she smoothed it back into practiced neutrality.
I hid my smile behind another bite.
Ah. So the bratty princess had a heart under all that lace.
As we left the sweets stall (now thoroughly emptied of its wares), I couldn't help but observe Sara's retreating back. That brief moment of kindness toward the street children had been... unexpected.
Tsundere tendencies, I noted mentally. Still in early stages.
Personally, I'd never been fond of the full-blown tsundere archetype. In stories they were amusing, but in reality? Just a recipe for unnecessary misunderstandings and self-inflicted loneliness. A part of me hoped the princess wouldn't grow into that sort of person—for her own sake.
With four hours remaining in our impromptu tour, I decided to kill two birds with one stone: show Sara the city while discreetly familiarizing myself with areas I hadn't yet explored.
My knowledge of fictional tropes came in handy—when we passed a fountain, I spun a tale about lovers' legends tied to it. Near the artisan district, I invented a rumor about hidden underground tunnels.
To my surprise, Sara ate it all up.
More surprisingly, her bratty demeanor faded as the afternoon wore on.
She asked genuine questions, laughed at dry jokes, and even insisted on trying a meat pie from a street vendor (though Lannette nearly had an aneurysm when she bit into it without a poison check).
The knight herself had grown marginally less hostile. She still watched me like a hawk, but now it was the sort of hawk that might not rip your face off if you moved slowly. Still, it was progress.
As we rode back toward the academy in the fading light, Sara chattered away about how she'd first met Cassandra—some royal gala where Cassie had "accidentally" spilled wine on a young duke who'd been harassing her.
"—and then she apologized so sweetly while stepping on his foot under the table! That's when I knew we had to be friends." Sara grinned, swinging her legs. "Cassie's the best at that sort of thing. Making problems disappear without anyone noticing."
That dude really deserved it, I would have done worse. She's a literal child you know.
I nodded along, filing away every tidbit.
Free intel was free intel, after all.
Then—
"So." Sara's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "About Cassie's ex-fiancé. How did you really catch him?"
Ah. There it is.
I sighed inwardly. The kid was nothing if not persistent.
I explained about Vivinne's incident. Starting from how I coincidentally met Cassandra, then witnessed Thadeus's public confession to Vivienne and informed Cassandra. And so on.
"....and it seems like," I said carefully, "Thadeus was working with the Redhart Brotherhood behind the scenes. His entire request to transport goods was a setup—the Brotherhood stole them before arrival to frame the girl's family for the failure." I shrugged. "At least, that's the story I heard from Lady Cassandra."
Sara stared at me for a long moment, her rose-gold eyes narrowing slightly before she muttered, "So you really didn't do anything..."
I nodded, relieved the misunderstanding had been cleared. Maybe now she'd—
Lannette nudged the princess gently, but Sara ignored her. Then, to my surprise, the princess spoke again, her voice softer than I'd ever heard it.
"Thank you."
I blinked. "For...?"
"For helping Cassie." Sara fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, her usual bravado gone. "Her family... they were forcing her to marry that useless man. Treating her like some... some political tool. She's been fighting alone all this time."
Ah.
A glint of understanding flashed through my mind. So that's why she said 'even my family can't refuse it now' back then. The pieces clicked into place—Cassandra's desperation, her calculated risks, even her willingness to trust a stranger like me.
But before I could respond, Sara finished with sudden enthusiasm: "Now she can finally marry my big brother!"
I stared at her.
Then—against my better judgment—I spoke. "Did you ask her opinion about that? Or your brother's?"
Sara froze. "H-huh?"
"You're doing the same thing her family did," I continued, keeping my tone neutral but firm. "Trying to force your idea of happiness on her without asking what she wants."
The carriage went deathly quiet.
Sara's mouth opened, then closed. "I... I..." Her hands clenched in her lap, knuckles whitening.
Lannette shot me a glare that could melt steel, but I held my ground.
After a long pause, I added, "Why are you so set on this anyway? You're good friends now, aren't you? That won't change unless you make it change."
The silence in the carriage stretched uncomfortably long after my words. Sara sat frozen, her small hands clenched so tightly in her lap that the fabric of her dress wrinkled beneath her fingers.
Lannette's glare hadn't lessened, but she made no move to intervene. Good girl, haha.
I didn't quite understand why I'd said all that to a twelve-year-old. Maybe it was the way Sara's eyes had lit up when she talked about Cassandra—genuine affection shining through the royal bravado. Maybe it was because no one had ever dared to tell this privileged child the hard truths before.
Either way, I didn't regret it. Better she realize this now than grow into another noble forcing their will on others.
"You care about her," I said, softening my tone just slightly. "That's why you want her to be happy. But happiness can't be dictated—it has to be chosen."
Sara didn't respond, but her grip on her dress loosened slightly.
The carriage wheels crunched against gravel as we turned onto the academy's main drive. Through the window, the grand gates loomed ahead, their ironwork gleaming in the fading light.
Perfect timing—the awkward conversation could end here.
Lannette straightened as we approached, her professional mask sliding back into place. "Your Highness, we've arrived."
Sara finally looked up, her expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought she might say something—anger, denial, maybe even thanks. But instead, she simply smoothed out her dress and lifted her chin in that practiced royal manner.
The carriage came to a stop. A footman rushed to open the door.
As Sara gathered herself to exit, she paused just long enough to mutter, "I'll... think about what you said."
Then she was gone in a swirl of silk and satin, Lannette following close behind like a shadow.
I remained in the carriage for an extra beat, exhaling slowly. That could have gone worse.
The footman cleared his throat. "Sir? Will you be—"
"Yes, yes," I waved him off, stepping out into the cool evening air.
From the academy steps, I caught one last glimpse of Sara's retreating figure—a small, determined girl walking toward the grand doors, her shoulders set with new purpose.
Maybe, just maybe, she'd actually consider my words.
And if not? Well. At least I'd tried.
_______
(Here's a long chapter for you guys. This is the last free chapter.
Don't forget to vote, comment and share the story.)