Abel sat up in bed, the dim glow of the moonlight slipping through the curtains casting a faint glow across the room. The night was still deep, the sounds of the bustling city outside muted in the quiet luxury of his rented chamber. He rubbed his face, feeling the pleasant haze of alcohol still humming in his veins. Beside him, the demi-human girl stirred, her slender arms wrapping around his back as she pulled him close with a lazy smile.
She stirred, and as she woke, she slid her arms around his back, pulling him close with a soft smile. “Come on, Prince," she purred, her voice still thick with sleep. "We still have time… What would you like to do?”
He smirked, rolling his shoulders. “Well, I was thinking…” He leaned back against the headboard, pulling her along with him. “How about a story?”
She tilted her head, intrigued, her eyes shining with interest as she settled herself against him. “Oh? And what kind of story does the Prince have to tell?”
Abel chuckled, shaking his head as he thought back to his younger days, back when he was still a boy in the palace, with his family. “Alright, how about the time my little sister Nahra nearly destroyed my father’s prized dinner because she thought the whole world revolved around her?”
The demi-human girl giggled, clearly entertained by the idea. “Your sister, the Princess? She sounds adorable.”
“Adorable?” Abel laughed, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “More like a menace. She was five years old, a spoiled little thing. My father, Sultan Amir, had called for this massive banquet to celebrate one of his political wins. I think he’d just managed to broker peace with some noble family, and he wanted to show off. The palace was filled with important people, all in their finest clothes. My father had ordered this grand roast—an entire lamb, seasoned and roasted just right.”
“Sounds fancy,” she murmured, nestling against his shoulder.
“Oh, it was. The cooks spent hours perfecting it,” Abel continued. “Now, Nahra—this tiny, bossy little girl—decided that she wanted a pet. And not just any pet, mind you. She wanted a sheep.”
The demi-human girl covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. “A sheep? In the palace?”
“Exactly,” Abel said, grinning. “She thought sheep were the cutest things, and she’d seen a few from the palace windows when they were brought in by the servants. So, when she found out there was a lamb in the kitchen—albeit, not exactly alive anymore—she marched right in and started screaming her little head off.”
The girl laughed, her shoulders shaking. “Oh no…”
“Oh yes,” Abel replied, his grin widening. “She threw herself onto the kitchen floor, crying, ‘Bring it back! Bring back my lamb!’ My mother, Aylin, heard the commotion and came running, thinking her darling daughter had somehow hurt herself. And when she saw Nahra wailing over the roast lamb, she couldn’t help herself. She picked Nahra up, dusted her off, and said, ‘Alright, if the princess wants her lamb, let’s bring it out to the table.’”
The girl gasped, laughing even harder. “Your mother actually brought it out?”
Abel chuckled, nodding. “Oh, absolutely. She knew my father would be furious, but she had this mischievous side, you know? So, she carried Nahra, still sobbing, and presented the lamb to the guests, declaring, ‘The Princess has requested that this lamb be returned to life.’”
The demi-human girl’s eyes were wide, laughter bubbling up in her throat. “And what did your father do?”
“Father’s face turned so red, I thought he’d explode,” Abel said, grinning. “But my mother just kept a straight face, telling everyone that this was the Princess’s lamb and that she would be accepting condolences for its untimely demise.”
The girl laughed, wiping a tear from her eye. “That’s hilarious. And Nahra? Did she ever get over it?”
Abel shook his head, smirking. “She sulked for days. Every time she saw my father, she’d huff and turn her nose up at him, as if he were some villain who’d robbed her of her best friend. But eventually, my mother found a stuffed lamb toy for her, and she paraded that thing around for weeks.”
The demi-human girl nestled closer, still chuckling. “Your family sounds… lively.”
Abel shrugged, a hint of nostalgia softening his features. “Yeah, lively’s one way to put it. The palace was never boring, that’s for sure.” He took a breath, his smirk returning. “But enough about that. I didn’t pay you to just listen to stories, did I?”
She giggled, trailing her fingers along his arm, and as the laughter settled, Abel’s thoughts lingered on his family for a moment longer, a brief, almost wistful memory before he returned to the present.
Malin stepped out of his chambers, feeling like a different person altogether. The tailored outfit he’d found waiting for him suited him perfectly, rich fabrics in deep tones that accentuated his features and gave him a touch of the elegance he'd only ever seen from afar. He smoothed down the fabric, trying to settle his nerves, but he couldn’t help the small surge of pride swelling within him. He looked… almost royal.
Across the hallway, the door to Maya’s room opened, and Malin’s eyes widened as she stepped out. She was dressed in an elegant gown, flowing and graceful, a deep, shimmering color that seemed to catch the light. For a moment, he was taken aback by how stunning she looked. If it weren’t for the fact that his heart was firmly with Nahra—the most beautiful girl in the kingdom, as far as he was concerned—he might have been completely captivated.
Maya caught his gaze and gave him a playful twirl, a smirk dancing on her lips. “Well, Malin? Impressed?”
He cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “You look… uh, yeah. Really impressive. But, you know, my heart is already spoken for.”
She laughed, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Good answer. You pass the loyalty test.” She winked and hooked her arm through his as they started down the hallway together, heading toward the main dining area.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
As they entered the grand dining hall, Malin’s mouth nearly watered at the sight before him. A vast assortment of food was spread across tables draped in rich fabrics: roasted meats, delicately arranged platters of fruits, freshly baked bread, and sweets piled high in glittering silver trays. The aromas were intoxicating, filling the air with spices and sweetness, an invitation to indulge.
Seated at one of the deluxe tables near the center was Bazzle, who spotted them and immediately called out, waving them over with a flourish. “Malin! Maya! Come, join me!”
As they approached, Malin noticed two women sitting beside Bazzle, both of them dressed in outfits that suggested they were hired companions. Their smiles were sweet and practiced, and Malin immediately suspected they were prostitutes, though the sight barely fazed him. He’d come to expect this from Bazzle’s flamboyant style.
Maya gave Bazzle a wry smile, crossing her arms. “Ever the playboy, aren’t you, Bazzle?”
Bazzle shrugged with an exaggerated, shameless grin. “What can I say? It’s the way of men, my dear.” He turned to Malin with a wink, clearly enjoying himself. “Isn’t that right, Malin? A man must enjoy the finer things in life, after all.”
Malin couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “I think I’ll leave that particular indulgence to you, Bazzle.”
Bazzle gave a mock sigh, feigning disappointment. “Ah, Malin, so young, so loyal. You’re missing out on life’s luxuries, my friend!”
They all took their seats, and as Malin sat down, he glanced around, still slightly awed by the lavish surroundings. He had never experienced anything remotely close to this, but he found himself settling in, even beginning to feel comfortable in this strange, new world.
The feast began, and as platters of food were passed around, Bazzle kept the conversation lively, cracking jokes and flirting with the women beside him, who giggled at his antics. Malin, meanwhile, was content to listen, to take in the atmosphere, feeling as though he were part of a world he’d only dreamed about.
Maya leaned over, giving him a reassuring smile. “Remember, Baker Boy, you’re here for a reason. Enjoy it while you can. Soon enough, you’ll have to prove yourself.”
He nodded, taking a deep breath as he looked over the spread of food, knowing this might be his only taste of such luxury before he set off on a perilous journey. For now, he allowed himself to enjoy the evening, savoring the food and the company, with a strange feeling of hope flickering inside him.
The evening progressed, the laughter and conversations flowing freely as food and wine were passed around. Malin, in the midst of such opulence, felt a peculiar sense of belonging and unease, each bite reminding him of the vast difference between this world and his own humble life as a baker. But he kept his composure, the lingering taste of luxury urging him to make the most of the night.
At one point, Bazzle leaned back with a grand gesture, clinking his glass as he called for attention. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he announced, his voice carrying across the hall. “What is a feast without a little dancing? Let us make the night truly unforgettable!”
Music began to play, a rich, rhythmic tune that filled the room with energy. Around the tables, guests rose, some already moving to the beat, others taking their time to find partners. The floor quickly filled with couples, all swaying and stepping in intricate patterns that seemed both familiar and exotic to Malin’s untrained eyes.
He was about to settle back and enjoy the show when Maya turned to him, a playful glint in her eyes. “So, Baker Boy,” she said, crossing her arms. “Have you ever danced before?”
Malin blinked, suddenly feeling a bit out of place. “Uh… no, not really,” he admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Not exactly something we do in the bakery.”
Maya smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Well, if you’re going to marry a princess, you’ll need to know how to dance. It’s practically a requirement.”
Malin chuckled nervously. “I don’t think Nahra cares much about dancing.”
“Oh, she’ll care when every noble in the kingdom expects you to lead her to the floor.” She held out her hand, her eyes gleaming with challenge. “Come on. I’ll teach you.”
He hesitated for a moment, glancing at her outstretched hand, but the determination in her gaze gave him no room for argument. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hand in hers, letting her guide him to the dance floor.
The music shifted to a lively rhythm, and Maya positioned herself in front of him, her movements precise and practiced. “Alright, Baker Boy, just follow my lead.” She tapped her foot in time with the beat, guiding him to do the same. “Start by stepping forward with your right foot, then bring the left next to it… good, just like that.”
Malin mirrored her movements, trying his best to keep up as Maya demonstrated the steps. She lifted her arms in a way that was both graceful and strong, encouraging him to do the same. The dance required both structure and fluidity, as they moved in unison, a back-and-forth rhythm that flowed between them. Maya spun, a quick turn that he attempted to mimic, though his movements were clumsy in comparison.
“Loosen up, Malin,” she teased, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “If you’re too stiff, you’ll just trip over your own feet. Dancing is about letting go.”
He laughed, a bit self-conscious, but he relaxed his shoulders, focusing more on the rhythm and less on getting each step exactly right. As they moved together, she guided him through a sequence of steps, crossing their arms, circling around each other, and meeting back in the center. The steps were intricate, a blend of swift footwork and spinning motions, giving the dance a lively, almost playful feel.
At one point, she lifted her arms, inviting him to mirror her. Together, they moved in a circular motion, arms raised as they followed the beat. It was like a dance he’d once seen at a village festival, but with a far more refined and structured elegance. They moved in line with the other dancers, briefly joining hands with another pair, then spinning back to face each other, never missing a beat.
Maya leaned in, her voice low but teasing. “You’re doing better than I expected, Baker Boy. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
He smirked, finally starting to find his confidence in the movements. “Well, I’ve got a pretty good teacher.”
They continued, Maya showing him how to add subtle flourishes to his steps—a graceful sway here, a quick spin there. The dance became more natural, their movements synchronized as he started to lose himself in the music, his initial nervousness fading into enjoyment. They stepped forward, back, circled, their feet tapping in perfect time. For a moment, Malin forgot everything—the daunting journey ahead, his fears, even Nahra’s absence. All that mattered was the rhythm, the beat, and Maya’s guiding presence beside him.
As the music slowed, they finished with a final turn, facing each other as the last notes faded into applause from the other guests. Malin found himself breathing heavily, exhilarated and surprised at how much he’d enjoyed the dance.
Maya released his hand, giving him a satisfied smile. “Not bad, Baker Boy. Not bad at all.”
He chuckled, feeling a surge of gratitude. “Thanks, Maya. Guess I might just be able to hold my own on the dance floor after all.”
She nodded, the admiration in her eyes softened by something deeper, a look of quiet encouragement. “You’ll need more than dancing skills to face what’s coming, Malin. But this is a good start.”
With a lingering smile, they returned to their seats, the warmth of the dance still buzzing through him. For the first time, Malin felt a flicker of confidence, a small hint of the man he could become.