King Alden sat alone in his chamber, his fingers steepled in thought.
Easton was his family—a distant cousin, yes, but blood nonetheless. That should have meant something. But history had proven otherwise.
Aldric had been ruthless, a man willing to kill his own kin if it meant keeping his throne. And Alden had never forgotten.
He had sent Marlowe into Easton’s court, not just to uncover the truth, but to confirm his suspicions.
And yet… she had returned with nothing.
No proof of tyranny. No evidence of cruelty. Nothing to justify the war Everthorns had been preparing for.
Instead, she had returned changed.
Alden had seen it in her eyes, the hesitation in her words. He had known Marlowe her entire life—she was sharp, unwavering. Yet when Easton stood before her today, she had been silent.
And that told Alden everything he needed to know.
Marlowe had fallen for him.
A dangerous, reckless thing.
But also… an opportunity.
If war was no longer an option, then another method was needed. Something more permanent.
Something that ensured Everthorns’ survival—no matter the cost.
And for that, he would need Marlowe to make a choice.
- Easton Finds Marlowe -
The corridors of Everthorns were unfamiliar, but Easton had never been the type to feel out of place. He moved with purpose, his steps measured, his mind fixed on one thing—her.
Marlowe had hidden from him long enough.
He knew she had seen something in him, something that made her hesitate. And now, he needed to know why.
After questioning a few wary servants, he finally found her in the castle’s gardens—alone, surrounded by the dim glow of lanterns and the distant hum of the night.
“Hiding from me, Princess?” His voice cut through the quiet.
Marlowe stiffened but did not turn. “I could say the same for you, King Easton.”
He took a step closer. “You didn’t answer me today.”
She inhaled deeply but remained silent.
“What did you see?” he pressed, his voice softer now, but no less demanding.
Marlowe finally turned, her dark eyes searching his. “Why does it matter?”
Easton let out a quiet, bitter chuckle. “Because I think you’re afraid of the answer.”
Her jaw tightened. “You think too much of yourself.”
“And you think too little of me.” His words were calm, but there was a challenge in them. “I know why you were sent here. I know what your father wanted.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping lower. “But I also know that somewhere along the way, you stopped seeing me as an enemy.”
Marlowe’s breath hitched. He was too close now, his presence impossible to ignore.
And worst of all, he was right.
She could have lied. Could have denied it. But she didn’t.
Instead, she whispered, “What if I did?”
For the first time, Easton hesitated.
He had expected a fight. He had expected anger.
But not this.
The truth was laid bare between them. Dangerous. Unspoken. And impossible to take back.
-
Marlowe has a striking presence with her soft yet regal features. Her lavender-hued hair and elegant attire reflect both her noble status and the intelligence that allowed her to infiltrate Easton’s court. Her expression, caught between resolve and vulnerability, hints at the internal conflict she faces—between duty to her kingdom and the emotions she has begun to harbor for Easton.
- 
Everthorns Garden – A Dangerous Truth
The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken words. The distant flicker of lanterns cast long shadows over Marlowe’s face, highlighting the conflict in her eyes.
Easton took a measured breath. “What if you did?” he echoed her words, watching her carefully.
Marlowe turned away, her fingers tightening around the edge of her sleeve. “It wouldn’t change anything.”
He stepped closer. “Wouldn’t it?”
She let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “I was sent here to find the truth about you. About your family.” She finally met his gaze. “But somewhere along the way, I realized the truth was much more complicated than I expected.”
Easton’s expression remained unreadable. “And what truth is that?”
Marlowe hesitated. That I don’t want to see you as an enemy.
But she couldn’t say it.
Instead, she straightened her shoulders, her voice turning cold. “That you are not the villain my father thought you were.”
Easton tilted his head slightly, studying her. “And yet you still ran.”
Marlowe’s breath caught.
He had her cornered, both in words and in presence.
“Tell me, Marlowe.” His voice dropped, something softer—something dangerous—slipping into his tone. “If you no longer see me as an enemy, then what am I to you?”
Her lips parted slightly, but no answer came.
Because even she didn’t know anymore.
She had played her role perfectly—until he became something more than just a mission.
Easton took another step forward, close enough now that she could see the flicker of uncertainty in his usually sharp eyes. “You weren’t just looking for the truth, were you?”
Marlowe clenched her fists. “Stop.”
But he didn’t.
“Say it, Marlowe.” His voice was almost a whisper. “Say you never once doubted me.”
She swallowed hard. “I can’t.”
Because she had doubted. She had hesitated. And that hesitation had led to her greatest mistake—feeling something she wasn’t meant to feel.
Easton exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. “Then tell me the truth.”
Marlowe turned her face away. “The truth is, I should have never come here.”
A beat of silence. Then—
“And yet you did.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. She needed to leave. If she stayed any longer, she would fall deeper into something she couldn’t control.
But before she could step back, Easton caught her wrist.
“Don’t run from this, Marlowe.”
Her heart pounded. He was giving her a choice—one that could change everything.
But could she take it?
Marlowe run faster as she could , Easton chased her they like kids playing run , chasing each other , Marlow run and brought Easton to a place that no one knows. It's her comfort place where they full with wild flowers and you can see sunrise , there a few mountains , after a while Easton realize this is a place behind the Everthorns castle .
As Easton slowed his pace, catching his breath, he took in the scene before him. The golden hues of the rising sun bathed the wildflower field in a soft glow, casting long shadows over the rolling hills. The scent of fresh earth and blossoms filled the crisp morning air. He turned his gaze to Marlowe, who stood at the crest of a small hill, her back to him, her shoulders rising and falling as she breathed deeply.
“This is… behind the castle, isn’t it?” Easton finally spoke, stepping toward her. “Your secret place.”
Marlowe nodded, keeping her gaze on the distant mountains. “No one comes here. Not my father, not the guards, not my attendants. Just me.” She turned slightly, her expression unreadable. “And now, you.”
A silence settled between them, thick with unspoken words. The chase had been like old times—before suspicion, before politics, before the weight of their names pulled them apart. But they were not children anymore.
Easton studied her face, the wind teasing strands of her hair loose from her braid. He had known she was a spy, had unmasked her deception, yet here he was, following her into her world, as if none of it mattered.
“Why did you bring me here?” he asked at last.
Marlowe’s lips parted, but no words came at first. She looked down at her hands, then clenched them into fists. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “I just… I wanted to run. And for some reason, I wanted you to run with me.”
Easton exhaled, stepping closer. “Marlowe—”
“I know what you’re thinking,” she cut him off, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “That I’m still lying. That I’ve betrayed you. And maybe I have.” Her voice dropped, almost a whisper. “But not all of it was a lie.”
Easton’s jaw tightened. He wanted to demand the truth from her, but he already knew it. She had come here with a purpose—to uncover his past, to gather secrets, to report back to her father. Yet, there was hesitation in her now, something fragile she was trying to hide.
Before he could say another word, she turned, facing him fully. “You asked me why I care about your family’s history,” she said. “And I still cannot tell you all of it. But I will say this—what happened to your parents, to King Aldric and your mother, is more than just your kingdom’s tragedy.”
Easton’s eyes darkened. “Then tell me, Marlowe. Tell me what your father truly seeks.”
Marlowe hesitated. The wind howled through the field, rustling the flowers around them. For a moment, Easton saw something flicker in her gaze—an inner war she was fighting.
Then, with a sad smile, she took a step back. “Not yet,” she murmured. “Not today.”
And before he could stop her, she turned and ran again, disappearing into the wildflowers.
Easton stood frozen, his breath caught in his throat.
“Come on, little fox, let’s play chase!” Marlowe’s voice rang out with laughter, her eyes glimmering in the morning light as she dashed through the wildflowers.
For a moment, Easton wasn’t standing in the fields of Everthorns anymore. He was a boy again, running through the palace gardens, his mother’s voice calling after him, that same playful lilt in her tone.
"Little fox, you’re always so quick on your feet. Come now, let’s see if you can outrun your mother!"
His heart pounded. The scent of wildflowers and fresh morning air mixed with the ghost of childhood memories. And standing before him was Marlowe—free-spirited, untamed, laughing as if the weight of the world did not exist.
Something shifted inside him, something deep and unfamiliar. He had always seen her as his enemy, his betrayer, his spy. But in this moment, she was something else. Something he could not yet name.
She turned to look at him, her laughter fading when she saw his expression.
“What is it?” she asked, tilting her head.
Easton stepped forward, his voice quieter now. “Little fox?” he repeated, his throat dry. “How do you know that name?”
Marlowe blinked, taken aback by the seriousness in his tone. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, a frown tugging at her lips. “It just… felt right.”
Easton searched her face, his mind reeling. That name had belonged to his mother. No one else had ever called him that. Not his father. Not his council. Not even his closest knights.
Just her.
The memory of his mother’s smile overlapped with Marlowe’s, and for the first time in years, the burden on his shoulders felt lighter. In this place, in this moment, he was not a king. He was not the ruler of a fractured kingdom. He was simply Easton, a boy running through the flowers, chasing something he did not yet understand.
His lips parted, but no words came.
Marlowe, watching him closely, took a hesitant step forward. “Easton?”
He exhaled, shaking his head slightly as if waking from a dream. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, forcing a smirk. “But you’d best run faster, little fox, or I’ll catch you.”
Marlowe grinned, her suspicion fading. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”
And just like that, she took off again, her laughter trailing behind her.
Easton followed.
For the first time in their lives, they were not heirs, not rulers, not enemies. They were just Easton and Marlowe—two young souls running through the fields, laughter spilling from their lips like children who had never known duty, never known war.
The golden sunrise painted the sky with soft hues, the wildflowers swayed under their feet, and the wind carried their joy like a song meant only for them. Marlowe ran ahead, spinning in circles, arms outstretched as if she could take flight. Easton chased after her, his heart pounding, not just from the run but from the strange, unshakable feeling growing inside him.
Was this what it felt like to be free?
Marlowe collapsed into the grass, breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed. Easton dropped beside her, his chest rising and falling as he stared at the sky. A comfortable silence settled between them.
“You’re not as fast as I thought, Your Majesty,” Marlowe teased, turning her head toward him.
He scoffed, tilting his face to meet hers. “I was being merciful. Didn’t want you to trip and embarrass yourself.”
She laughed, and the sound struck something deep in his chest.
They lay there, side by side, watching the clouds drift above them, feeling the warmth of the sun on their skin. For a moment, they weren’t bound by their kingdoms, their duties, their secrets. They were just two people who had carried the weight of expectation for far too long, finally allowed to forget.
But what they didn’t know—what neither of them could have suspected—was that they were not alone.
Hidden in the distance, unseen among the trees, someone was watching. Eyes filled with curiosity, with calculation.
And with a secret of their own.