The sun beat down harshly as Rhea adjusted the hood over her hair, ignoring the sweat forming along her hairline. Her maid, Mila, trailed beside her, glancing around nervously.
"My lady, if someone recognizes you—"
"They won't," Rhea said quickly. "Everyone's too busy trying not to melt in this heat."
Truthfully, she was melting too. Not just from the weather, but from anxiety. She hadn't left the palace since the wedding. But after reading the book again — and learning that Elowen's father ran a blacksmith shop on the edge of the trade district — she knew she couldn't sit and wait any longer.
They moved through crowded streets filled with vendors shouting over each other, the air thick with the smell of smoke, sweat, and roasted meat. Rhea tried not to gag as a cart of skinned rabbits rolled by.
Finally, they found it: a worn wooden sign carved with the emblem of a crescent moon and two crossed blades.
This has to be it.
The shop itself was nothing like the refined smithies she imagined in fantasy stories. The windows were dusty, the forge out back was blazing hot, and a muscular man stood hammering steel with rhythmic violence.
Rhea took a step forward—
"Rhea?"
She froze.
That voice did not belong to her maid.
Turning slowly, she found herself face to face with Sael, the second prince. His auburn hair was tousled as usual, his collar slightly open — like he hadn't fully dressed for royalty today. A satchel of supplies hung over his shoulder, and he was holding what looked like a half-wrapped sword in one hand.
"Oh… hi," Rhea said, caught like a fox in a fruit cart.
Sael tilted his head, amused. "I thought I was hallucinating. Or being pranked. What's my brother's bride doing here in the slums, sweat-soaked and whispering with her maid in front of a blacksmith's?
Rhea blinked. "Shopping?"
"For weapons?" he lifted a brow. "Are you planning to give it to my brother and seduce him with steel?"
She forced a tight smile. "What can I say? He likes a sharp edge."
Sael laughed — genuine and golden. "You are definitely not what I expected."
Then his expression turned more thoughtful.
"Seriously, though. Does Cyrien know you're here?"
"No," she said honestly.
Kael stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Then what are you looking for, Rhea?"
She hesitated, hand brushing over the pouch where the book sat hidden.
"Answers," she said softly. "To things no one wants to talk about."
Sael"s smile faded slightly. "If that includes my brother, be careful. The palace eats people who ask too many questions."
Rhea met his gaze, unflinching. "So I've noticed."
Before he could press more, the blacksmith banged a hammer down and barked, "You buying something or standing around to flirt with my customers?"
Sael grinned over his shoulder. "Little of both, old man."
To Rhea, he murmured, "We'll see each other again, won't we?"
She gave a small, noncommittal shrug. "Depends if you keep following me into random shops."
"Ah, but if I were following you, I wouldn't have arrived first," he winked.
Then he left, sword in hand, whistle on his lips.
Rhea let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
Mila leaned closer. "He's charming. But dangerous."
Rhea nodded. "They all are."
But her eyes turned back to the blacksmith shop — to the woman inside, stacking wooden crates.
A girl with light brown hair tied back in a ribbon.
Sunburnt. Focused.
Too ordinary to be ordinary.
Could it be her?
Rhea stepped forward.
If Elowen was truly here, then the story hadn't ended yet.
It was only just beginning.