Chapter 12: Is it a crime to see your face?

"My Lady, are you sure this is safe?" Sally whispered while glancing around the dim corridor. Her hands trembled as she held the edge of Fanaza's cloak. "You just got back… and you should be resting."

Fanaza gave her a mischievous smile as she tugged on her hood. "Don't worry, no one will find out," she said, stepping carefully onto the fence's lower ledge.

Sally braced her with both hands. "My Lady, can't you go a day without breaking the rules?" she said firmly, eyes full of concern.

There was a huge silence between them before Fanaza whispered jokingly.

"I can't do without breaking them, rules are meant to be broken."

Sally let out a breath of helpless frustration. "What will be my response if anyone demands your presence?"

"Trust me. No one will. I'm like a ghost in the palace." Fanaza winked as she climbed higher.

"Will you at least tell me where you're going—or can I come with you?"

"No, you can't come with me, Sally," Fanaza said softly but firmly. "I'll be back before you know it. Just do your job… and keep this between us."

With Sally's final boost, Fanaza leapt over the fence and landed quietly in the shadows below. She crouched, eyes scanning left, then right. The yard lay still. Not a soul was in sight. But far off, unseen to her, a pair of eyes tracked her movement, sharp and curious.

Prince Lyon , who had just stepped out for fresh air, raised an eyebrow as he spotted her from afar.

A slow smile curved his lips. He looked confused when he saw who it was and he couldn't stop thinking of possible reasons why she was sneaking out of the palace.

"I wonder where she's headed," he murmured, mounting his horse and following from a careful distance.

Fanaza rode her horse through the quiet forest, her heart pounding with both excitement and longing. The thought of seeing Rwaine made her chest flutter. His mysterious aura, his golden eyes, his voice and his presence alone made her feel different and happy.

He'd haunted her every thought since their last encounter.

As her horse trotted deeper into the forest, a line was crossed literally. Lyon halted his horse at the edge of the mountain. His brow furrowed.

"What is she doing riding into the restricted zone?" he muttered. Shaking his head, he turned back.

He had seen enough to suspect, but not enough to follow. He doesn't even want to get involved with whatever she might be doing but curiosity began to eat him up slowly.

Meanwhile, Fanaza pressed forward into the haunting stillness of the forest . The leaves beneath her horse's hooves crunched like bones. Not a bird sang. Not a breeze whispered.

The forest were like graveyards.

Suddenly, her horse jerked—its hoof catching in a hidden snare. It reared with a sharp, frightened whinny.

"Easy—no!" Fanaza screamed, but it was too late. She was thrown off the horse.

Her body slammed against the sand. She groaned in pain, her breath knocked out of her. The horse bolted, its cries echoing through the trees.

"Great," she muttered, dragging herself upright and dusting off the dirt from her dress. "Now what?"

The forest loomed around her—ancient, silent, eerie and still. Rwaine's cave wasn't far. She could make it. She had to.

Drawing in a breath, she began walking, each step sending sharp pulses of pain through her legs. "This was actually a bad idea," she muttered through gritted teeth.

She stumbled to a tree and slumped beside it, catching her breath. Unaware of the green snake that slithered silently above, watching… preparing to strike. Its color almost blends well with the leaves.

Suddenly—thwack!

A dagger whirled through the air, embedding deep into the snake's throat. The lifeless creature fell with a thud right in front of her.

Fanaza gasped and shot to her feet, heart pounding.

"W-What…?"

Her eyes darted—and then froze trying to find out who threw the dagger. While trying to understand what just happened, she saw a figure emerging like a shadow through the mist.

There he was. The one she had come all this way for, Rwiane.

"Rwaine…" she whispered.

He strode forward without hesitation, pulling the dagger from the snake's body. His expression was unreadable, but his presence made her feel safe—despite everything.

"Why are you here?" he asked, voice firm but not cold.

"I came to see you," she said honestly, her voice soft but unwavering.

"Fanaza… you know you can't just leave the palace and come here anytime you feel like. Because you want to see me?"

"I just… I missed you." Her eyes searched his face.

"Fanaza, no. You don't belong here," he said, his jaw tensed. "It's dangerous. These mountains are forbidden for a reason."

"I honestly do not mind." she said her voice firm and clear.

"You should," he said sharply. "I don't want you to come here."

"Is it a crime to see your face?" she asked, eyes filled with emotion.

Rwaine didn't give a response. Instead, he bent slightly, offering his back. "Hop on."

She hesitated for a second, heart pounding, then climbed onto his back. They moved through the woods together, her arms wrapped gently around his shoulders. The closeness between them was thick with tension—emotional, electric.

The cave was quiet when they arrived.

"Your father, is he around?" she asked, lowering her voice, worry flickering in her eyes.

"Don't worry. He went for a hunt. Won't be back for a week."

She let out a deep breath. "I see… it's just… his presence gives me chills," she admitted with a nervous smile. "How have you been?"

she continued while among her hair into a bun.

"I'm surviving," he replied.

"Surviving? In this cave?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Where else would I be surviving?" he said with a hint of irony.

"I'm not judging," she said gently, "but… why here? Why so far, in the mountains?"

A huge silence filled the atmosphere.

She quickly added, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be nosy."

Rwaine exhaled and sat down on a rock. Fanaza sat beside him, her gaze locked on his golden eyes. She searched for answers—but they only offered more questions.

The mystery of him tugged at her heart, yet warned her at the same time. Still, she couldn't help herself. Something about Rwaine pulled her in like gravity.

"Rwaine," she whispered. He turned his head, meeting her eyes.

"Do you want to go somewhere with me? To the main city?"

"What's that?" he asked, guarded.

"It's a surprise," she said with a grin. "Trust me, you'll love it."

"I don't want to go to the main city, Fanaza."

"Please? Just for me?" she pouted, eyes twinkling.

Rwaine stared at her. She was impossible to resist. No matter how hard he tried, he kept on falling harder and wanting to grant every one of her wishes.

"Fine," he muttered.

Her face lit up. She threw her arms around him in a warm, sudden hug. He stiffened—but then melted into it. The scent of her hair, the softness of it in his fingers as he brushed through it… it was intoxicating.

*******

Back at the palace, Prince Lyon stared at Fanaza's room from afar.

"She should be back by now." he muttered.

He walked to the door—and there stood Sally, alert and upright.

"My liege," she said with a bow.

"Get out of my way," Lyon ordered coldly.

"I'm sorry, my liege," she said, standing her ground. "But I cannot do that. My lady is asleep and ordered me not to let anyone in."

"Announce me," he demanded.

"I cannot. It would wake her. She needs rest."

With a shove of his hand, he pushed her aside. Sally hit the floor hard with a pained gasp, her wrist twisting beneath her.

Lyon burst into the room—and found only bundled blankets. He tore them apart. No Fanaza.

He smirked. "She isn't back."

"I… I don't know what you mean, my liege," Sally stammered behind him.

"Tell her to come to me when she returns," he said darkly. "And remind her—I know her secret, it won't cost me anything to speak out."

Later in the main city, Fanaza and Rwaine rode together. As the bustling capital came into view, Rwaine's expression darkened. He was tensed and his breathing became shallowed.

Fanaza noticed and smiled: "It's just a show. You'll love it."

His eyes flicked to her—full of hesitation. But her smile reassured him, and he followed her.

They stopped at a quaint, ivy-covered performance house.

"My father used to bring me here when I was sad," she said. "It's magical. I call it the House of Peace."

Rwaine hesitated.

"It's just us. I don't like crowds either," she said gently.

Relieved, he nodded, and they stepped into the dim theatre.

They found seats as the lights dimmed and the curtain opened.

A cheerful voice rang out: "Welcome to the Night Tales of Macabre! I'm your puppeteer, Lancelot. Stay tuned for tonight's episode!"

The curtain opened again—revealing puppets. Painted wooden figures dressed in royal garb danced under string and shadow.

"Have you heard of the prophecy?" the main puppet asked, voice squeaky but haunting.

"What prophecy?" the other replied.

"The one that'll make you shiver and pee on your gowns!" the main puppet continued with his mysterious voice.

Fanaza giggled. Rwaine didn't make a move, he was silent as a rock.

But he was watching her, not the show. His eyes were fixed only on her, and he studied every of her body movements and reactions.

"The prophecy was told centuries ago. Of a cursed prince, born to destroy the kingdom."

"Where is this prince? Did the prophecy come true?" another puppet asked in curiosity.

"They said he was murdered at birth." The main puppet replied.

"That's evil… just because of a prophecy," Fanaza whispered.

Rwaine didn't respond. He stared at her, silent and unreadable.

"You can stop staring," she whispered.

Rwaine scoffed and looked back at the stage.

"I feel bad for the prince," Fanaza said. "He didn't deserve that. No one deserves to be killed on their birthday,"

"The world is cruel." Rwaine muttered and stared right into her eyes.

"Prophecies always come true," the puppet said. "But they can be delayed. Hidden. Even reborn."

"Only the gods know. Maybe the prince still lives… waiting to strike and seek revenge for the wrong and atrocities the people have committed." The puppet said.

" Tonight we will tell you the story of the cursed prince of Macabre." the main puppet screamed out loud.

There was a loud round of applause and cheers from the other puppets.

Rwaine leaned closer to Fananza. " Do you believe in this tale?"

"My father told me the same tale," she said softly. "About a cursed prince… But he was killed, so the kingdom is safe. I guess."

Rwaine remained still, watching and listening. But deep inside, something stirred. The show made him uncomfortable, the mention of a curse and the prophesy made the atmosphere around him stuffy and too choked up at the same time.

It felt like the words of the puppets were directly aimed at him but he kept on denying it. He was not a prince and he was not murdered at this broth neither did he get a prophesy before his birth.

But unknown to even him

He was the fulfillment of the prophecy.