The morning of the Moonlight Festival arrived too brightly.
Sunlight spilled across the palace in soft gold, warm and unbothered, as if nothing important was about to happen that night.
Freya woke earlier than usual.
She hadn't slept much anyway.
Her mind had been restless all night—turning over paths, crowds, timing, escape routes.
Still, when she sat up in bed, she forced her expression to remain calm.
Nothing out of place.
Today was important.
Tonight was everything.
Servants arrived earlier than expected.
"His Majesty requests you be prepared by midday," one of them informed her gently.
Freya blinked.
"That early?"
"Yes, my lady."
That was… unusual.
But she nodded anyway.
"Alright."
The dress they brought her was heavier than she expected.
Deep midnight fabric threaded with faint silver embroidery that shimmered like scattered stars beneath candlelight.
Freya stared at it for a long moment.
"It's… elaborate."
"The king selected it himself," Clara said softly.
Freya turned.
"…He did?"
Clara nodded.
Freya reached for the gown, immediately noticing the weight of it.
Her brow furrowed.
"It's heavier than most dresses."
Clara hesitated.
Then awkwardly looked away.
Freya narrowed her eyes.
"…Clara."
The maid winced.
"Well…"
"What?"
Clara sighed.
"His Majesty specifically requested thicker layers beneath the skirt."
Freya froze.
"What?"
Clara gave her an apologetic look.
"He said—and I quote—'If my wife plans on running through town, she can do so carrying ten pounds of fabric.'"
Freya stared.
Then her jaw dropped.
"That insufferable—"
Clara quickly covered her mouth to hide her laugh.
Freya looked horrified.
"He did that on purpose?!"
"Yes."
Freya gaped at the dress.
"He's sabotaging me before I've even done anything!"
Clara coughed awkwardly.
"Well… technically he said before you try anything."
Freya groaned loudly.
Clara gave her a sympathetic smile.
"He does seem rather certain you're planning something."
Freya glared at the dress like it had personally offended her.
Then muttered—
"Smug bastard."
Still—
she had no choice but to wear it.
And that only annoyed her more.
Later—
Down the hall—
Eugene stood in Soren's chambers watching him adjust his cuffs.
"You really ordered her into a heavier dress?" Eugene asked, trying not to laugh.
Soren looked utterly unbothered.
"Yes."
"That's ridiculous."
Soren glanced at him.
"She is fast when motivated."
Eugene barked out a laugh.
"You are unbelievable."
Soren calmly adjusted his sleeve.
"If she wishes to flee, she may at least struggle while doing so."
Eugene shook his head.
"You're enjoying this too much."
Soren smirked faintly.
"Perhaps."
When Freya finally emerged dressed—
the gown fit beautifully.
Elegant.
Stunning.
And annoyingly difficult to move in.
She could feel the extra weight immediately.
Her narrowed eyes found Soren waiting at the palace gates.
And the moment he saw her expression—
he smiled.
That smug, knowing smile.
Freya marched toward him.
"You are unbelievable."
His brow lifted.
"Whatever do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean."
His eyes glinted.
"You look lovely."
She hissed quietly.
"You made this harder to run in!"
His smirk widened.
"So you admit you were planning to run."
Freya froze.
"…No."
"Mm."
He offered his arm.
"Shall we?"
She glared at him murderously.
But took it anyway.
And Soren's smile only widened further.
he was enjoying this far too much.
***
By the time their carriage rolled into town, dusk had settled over the kingdom.
And Freya forgot how to breathe.
The entire city glowed.
Lanterns hung from every rooftop and window, casting warm golden light across the streets like stars had descended from the heavens themselves.
Music drifted through the air from unseen performers.
Laughter echoed from every corner.
Children ran through the streets holding sweets and ribbons.
The smell of fresh bread, sugar, roasted meats, and flowers filled the night air.
Freya stared wide-eyed through the carriage window.
"…Oh."
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Beside her, Soren watched her reaction quietly.
And something in his chest tightened.
"You truly have never attended one before?" he asked softly.
Freya didn't even look away from the window.
"No."
A pause.
Then quieter—
"I've barely been outside my family's estate."
Soren's expression darkened faintly at that.
But Freya never noticed.
She was too captivated by the world around her.
When the carriage stopped and the footman opened the door, Freya practically stepped out before he could even help her.
Her eyes darted everywhere.
Everywhere.
"It's beautiful…" she breathed.
Soren stepped beside her.
His gaze remained mostly on her instead of the festival.
"Yes," he murmured.
Freya turned too quickly to notice the way he was looking at her.
"There's so much—look at all of this!"
She pointed excitedly toward a stand selling glowing lanterns.
Then toward a musician playing in the square.
Then gasped softly at dancers spinning in circles further ahead.
Soren blinked.
He had never seen her like this before.
So open.
So bright.
So utterly unguarded.
A genuine smile spread across her face— the kind he had never seen in the palace.
And gods—
it nearly ruined him.
"Can we walk?" she asked quickly, turning to him with almost childlike excitement.
Then froze slightly, realizing how eager she sounded.
Soren's lips twitched.
"…Yes."
Freya immediately brightened.
And before he could stop himself—
she grabbed his arm.
Not carefully. Not reluctantly. Not because she had to.
But naturally.
Excitedly.
And began tugging him forward.
"Come on!"
Soren stared down at where her hand clung to him.
Then at her.
His usually unreadable face softened just slightly.
Eugene, walking behind them, nearly choked.
Oh, he was doomed.
Absolutely doomed.
For the next hour—
Freya forgot herself.
Forgot her plans.
Forgot her escape.
Forgot everything but the wonder around her.
She stopped at nearly every stall.
Admired handmade jewelry. Watched performers breathe fire. Laughed when children chased one another with glowing paper lanterns.
She even tried one of the famous honey cakes Clara had told her about.
Her eyes widened after one bite.
"Oh my!."
Soren raised a brow.
"That good?"
She shoved half toward him immediately.
"Try it."
He blinked.
Then looked at the half-eaten pastry in her hand.
Then at her.
"You're ordering your king to eat after you?"
"Just try it."
Soren stared for a moment.
Then, amused, leaned down and took a bite directly from the pastry still in her hand.
Freya froze.
Her entire face burned.
Because he hadn't taken the other half.
He'd bitten from the same spot she had.
His crimson eyes gleamed.
"It is good."
Freya stared at him.
Speechless.
Soren smirked.
And kept walking.
Leaving her flustered behind.
Eugene outright laughed.
But slowly—
as the night deepened—
Freya's thoughts returned.
Her eyes drifted toward the thickening crowds.
Toward darker alleyways.
Toward the masses of people weaving through lantern-lit streets.
And her heart began pounding again.
This was it.
Her chance.
Everything she'd planned for.
She glanced toward Soren.
He stood beside her casually, one hand in his pocket, gaze calm as ever.
Relaxed.
Distracted.
Freya swallowed.
Just one moment.
One opening.
And she could do it.
Even if part of her suddenly hated the idea more than she expected.
As the night deepened, Freya stood beneath glowing lanterns while laughter and music filled the streets around her.
The crowd swayed in every direction. Perfect cover. Perfect chaos.
The perfect chance.
Her eyes drifted toward the packed streets ahead.
Toward the dark alleys branching off into the night.
Her heart pounded.
This was it.
Everything she had planned for.
She could do it now.
Slip away into the crowd. Disappear before Soren noticed. Run until dawn.
She slowly glanced beside her.
Soren stood near her, speaking briefly with a merchant while holding the small lantern she had insisted on buying earlier.
And something in her chest twisted unexpectedly.
She looked around again.
At the music. The lights. The warm pastries in her hand. The dancers in the square.
At the joy surrounding her.
Her first festival. Her first time truly outside. Her first night simply being… happy.
And suddenly—
she didn't want to ruin it.
Not tonight.
Her shoulders softened.
No, she thought.
Not tonight.
She had waited this long.
She could wait a little longer.
She wanted—
just for once—
to enjoy something.
To be selfish.
To have one night where she wasn't plotting or planning or running.
One night where she could simply exist.
And if she was honest—
A quiet, uncomfortable truth whispered inside her.
She didn't want to leave yet.
Not when she was smiling like this. Not when Soren was looking at her the way he had all evening. Not when everything felt… strangely nice.
Her stomach twisted.
That thought frightened her.
But not enough to move.
She stepped back toward Soren instead.
Choosing.
Staying.
Just for tonight.
She'd try again another time.
Then—
A hand grabbed her wrist.
Freya gasped.
Before she could scream—
she was yanked violently backward into the crowd.
Soren turned from the merchant, the small lantern still in his hand.
His eyes immediately searched for Freya.
And froze.
She was gone.
His expression darkened instantly.
He scanned the crowd once.
Twice.
Nothing.
A dangerous silence settled over him.
Then—
A bitter laugh escaped him.
Disbelieving.
"She did it."
Eugene turned sharply.
"My lord?"
Soren's jaw tightened.
"She ran."
The words came cold.
As if each one physically hurt to say.
After everything tonight.
After her laughter. Her smiles. Her staying close to him.
She had smiled in his face—
all while waiting for the perfect moment to leave.
Something ugly twisted in his chest.
Something far too close to hurt.
Eugene looked around frantically.
"You're sure?"
Soren's eyes narrowed.
"She's clever."
His voice was flat.
"I underestimated her patience."
For a moment—
his entire face became unreadable.
"Seal the gates."
Eugene immediately barked orders.
Guards rushed into motion.
Soren stood perfectly still amidst the chaos.
His grip on the lantern tightened so hard it nearly cracked.
"She truly left me…" he muttered under his breath.
Not angry.
Not yet.
Just… darkly wounded.
Then his expression hardened.
"If she wishes to run…"
His crimson eyes glinted dangerously.
"She will learn there is nowhere in this world she can hide from me."