When Master Antonin and Leïla crossed the inn’s door, their faces were marked by gravity. Their slightly wrinkled clothes betrayed a day spent in harsh negotiations, every word weighed with caution. Master Antonin’s piercing gaze contrasted with Leïla’s, which was filled with a silent, almost maternal concern.

Mero, sitting near the flickering hearth, immediately straightened at their arrival, sensing that an important announcement was coming. Master Antonin sat at a dark table, its worn wood bearing the marks of countless meals and disputes. He gestured for Mero to join him. Leïla remained standing beside him, her hands clasped in front of her, as if preparing for a revelation with heavy consequences.

“The situation is more complicated than we had imagined,” Master Antonin said in a calm but unyielding voice.

Mero felt a shiver run down his back.

“The Pirate Lord is an honorable man, but also a proud one. He won’t accept you refusing these betrothals without losing face in front of his men.”

He paused, slowly crossing his fingers on the table, as if trying to tame his thoughts.

“However, I’ve secured a reprieve. Three years. The marriage won’t be considered until after your seventeenth birthday, as you requested. By then, we’ll be far away, and this promise will become a distant memory.”

Leïla, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, her voice soft but laden with palpable tension.

“But that means, in the eyes of the pirates, you are betrothed to that girl. They will watch you and wait to see if you keep your word.”

A complex mix of relief and worry washed over Mero. He had avoided the worst but was still bound to a promise he had never wanted. Three years. Three years to find a way out or face the inevitable consequences.

Master Antonin fixed him with a deliberate gaze, his face grave but satisfied with the emerging maturity in the young boy.

“It’s a lesson many men learn too late,” he said slowly. “Every gesture, every word, every choice carries weight, especially for someone in your position. You may still be a child, but in the eyes of the world, you represent much more than yourself.”

Leïla gently placed a reassuring hand on Mero’s shoulder.

“The important thing is that you’re not alone. We’re here to guide you.”

A silence settled in, punctuated by the laughter of sailors and the clink of tankards against wooden tables. Everything seemed normal around them, yet something had changed. An invisible boundary had been crossed. Mero was no longer merely a spectator in his own life.

Master Antonin stood up, stretched slightly, and announced in a firm voice:

“Tomorrow, we leave this island as soon as the ship is ready. Rest, we still have a long journey ahead.”

Leïla gave him a tender smile before packing her belongings. As always, she would watch over him. But that night, for the first time, Mero felt the weight of his own destiny on his shoulders.

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After finishing their meal, they went to bed. The night enveloped the inn in its silent cloak, but deep in the darkness, a sound pulled Mero from his sleep.

Light, stealthy footsteps echoed on the roof.

His heart racing, he glanced over at Master Antonin and Leïla’s beds: they were asleep, unaware of the unknown presence.

Gently, Mero grabbed his dagger, his only precious possession, engraved with his family crest. He moved cautiously toward the balcony, his bare feet brushing against the cold floor, each step measured to make no sound. The night’s cool air bit at his skin as he softly opened the glass door to the balcony.

The silvery moonlight bathed the scene in an unreal glow. A familiar figure stood there, on the railing, perfectly balanced, like a wild creature accustomed to heights. Her long black hair waved in the night breeze, and her green eyes gleamed in the darkness like two living emeralds.

She motioned for him to follow her onto the roof.

Reason screamed at him to go back inside, to resist this dangerous call. But an irresistible curiosity, mixed with a strange excitement, pulled him toward her.

Clutching his dagger with a trembling hand, he carefully climbed over the balcony’s edge and hoisted himself onto the rough tiles. Every movement was measured, every gesture cautious to avoid slipping.

The night wind caressed his face as he regained his balance. The girl stood there, perfectly still, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips.

“Little prince, you’re braver than I thought,” she murmured, her voice blending with the wind’s breath.

She reached out her hand to him.

After a brief hesitation, Mero took it. Her palm was warm, contrasting with the biting cold of the night. Together, they moved silently to a hidden platform, sheltered from view, overlooking the inn and offering a breathtaking view of the shimmering sea in the distance.

The girl turned to him, her expression suddenly more serious.

“You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” she asked in a trembling voice.

Mero nodded, unable to speak.

She pulled out a finely crafted silver pendant, tightly held in her hand.

“For you to remember me... and these betrothals,” she said with unusual gravity.

He knew he could not refuse this gift without risking danger for everyone. Pirate traditions were unyielding, and rejecting such a gesture would have been seen as an insult.

With silent resolve, he handed her his dagger, engraved with his family crest.

“Take it. It’s all I have.”

The girl gave him a smile that was both happy and sad.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Without waiting, she kissed him. The kiss was both soft and passionate, charged with an intensity that made Mero waver. Time seemed to suspend, the stars above them silent witnesses to this clandestine exchange.

They stayed there, embraced, she radiant with having obtained what she desired, he lost in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

The wind blew softly, carrying the salty scent of the sea and the distant murmur of the sleeping city. Her warm body against his, Mero felt his heart beat in a calm, assured rhythm.

Though he knew it was all a power game, a maneuver dictated by the traditions of her people, there was an unsettling sincerity in the girl’s actions. This pendant, she had given it to him with a certain seriousness, as though it were more than just jewelry. And by offering her dagger, he had done more than exchange gifts: he had entrusted a part of himself.

She looked up at him, her green irises shining in the dark.

“Little prince... you will return, won’t you?”

He wanted to answer, but no words came. The future was already set, controlled by forces far greater than him.

“I don’t know what the future holds for us,” he finally admitted.

She smiled, a sad but contented smile.

“Then let me have one last thing.”

Without waiting for a response, she kissed him once more, a kiss that sealed this moment out of time. Then, slowly, she stepped back, her fingers slipping from his like a final goodbye.

“Leave before you’re caught. I don’t want my father to change his mind.”

He nodded, unable to speak. Then, with one last hesitation, he silently descended back into his room, the pendant clutched in his trembling hand.

Under the covers, his mind remained troubled. This journey was changing him, pulling him further from the carefree boy he had once been.

Tomorrow, they would leave this island. But a part of him would stay there forever.