Ah, he thought, back to the memory. To the good. He smiled, mostly to himself, without realizing.

Jizelle noticed his dazzling smile, that of someone much younger, of someone more carefree. Her heart ached for him. If only he could smile that way every day.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he eventually said. And it was the truth. He didn’t know who she was, but what he did know was far more profound. “She made me feel at peace. And nervous, like a boy with a crush…” His words drifted off. He bit his lip as he recalled her face, as clearly as he could with the time that had passed. “She was like an angel. The North Star in the night sky, leading you home. You know, she gave me a fake name that day. I never learned her real one.”

“Good for her.”

Jizelle gently squeezed his hand, and his attention was drawn back to her presence. He gazed at her with mischief in his eyes.

“The name I gave her was a fake name too. It was Nox.” He chuckled to himself. “For the first time in my life, I – I wasn’t a prince. I was a person. I was a man. I was… Nox. I wasn’t about to ascend the throne or get married to a woman I’d never met. I was just a boy who was free.” He blinked several times, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

Why was he feeling the need to cry now, after all this time? Was it because the longing had been buried too deep, festered too long? Was it because he feared that day in his past would end up being the only day of freedom in his life?

Was it because of what she’d wrote to him before she left?

“We’d met in the morning, bumped into each other, literally, while walking around. We spent the whole day together. Laughing, joking around, having fun. It was getting late after we paraded around the whole area together, causing mischief. We ended up at this inn and they only had one room left, so–”

“You totally slept with her, didn’t you?” Jizelle cut him off, her mouth open as wide as her eyes. She smacked her palm lightly against his shoulder as if scolding him.

“Hey! I’m telling the story here. Pipe down.”

“That means I’m right.” She pouted only for a few seconds, and then came her curiosity. “Was she your first? You sentimental about that sort of thing?”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t about firsts. It was just… there was something about her. You know? She… she was the one who asked me to stay, to share – to share the bed.” He admitted those words with a slight flush to his cheeks, recalling just how alluring that woman had been, standing in the room. He’d been about to leave, but he’d ultimately made the choice to stay. “And the way she spoke – it was as if she’d been a caged bird her whole life, finally finding this intense freedom and it was almost intoxicating with how her words made sense to me. She wanted what she wanted. She knew what she wanted.”

And she had wanted Owen that night.

“And she wanted you,” Jizelle added carefully onto his words.

“For the night. Just… Just for that one night. She was gone when I woke up. And what I suddenly wanted desperately to remain at my side… was gone. Forever.”

“Hmm…”

He hadn’t planned to say that last part. But he’d been holding onto it so tight, tried to bury that want too many times. And now that the truth was beign revealed from inside him, it all came out. Trying to hide his embarrassment at such honest, and frankly whining, words, he stood, facing away from her.

“Get some sleep.”

“Mhm…”

He finally glanced at Jizelle, only to see she’d nearly fallen asleep already. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slower. He tugged the blankets up higher over her and lightly pecked her forehead with his lips.

“Thanks for listening to me ramble like a lovesick boy.”

“Mhm… You should… find her.”

Owen’s smile fell, not that Jizelle could see it at all.

“You should get some sleep now.”

“What was her name?” she mumbled sleepily, drifting over onto her side and cuddling up under the blankets more.

“Fake name?”

“Mhm.”

For a moment, he considered whether to tell her. Ultimately, he decided against it.

“I… I think I’ll keep that to myself for now.”

“Oooh… secrets…”

I wish I could find her, he thought wearily, but…

He gazed down at the nightstand next to the bed.

“But I’m not sure that’s what she wants…” he mumbled to himself.

Sometimes… he had wished she’d written different words on that page. Sometimes, he wished that she’d wrote him, asking for him to come find her.

Saph… where are you now, he wondered. Are you happy? Are you even still alive?

Instead of going to bed himself, just as Jizelle had done a moment ago, Owen stayed up, leaving only two dim necessary lights on next to his desk. He got to work on signing papers, reviewing and adding notes upon proposals that were necessary.

And then he went over the budget again for the second time, shaking his head. None of it had stuck around long enough in his mind to matter. After the second try failed, he pushed it away, saving it for later, only to stare out the window, seeing just a shadowed reflection of himself against the dark night sky. He stared out, lower, seeing lights on the streets. It drew him in, that glow, and with it, her.

He rose to his feet, moving closer to the window until his shadow managed to block out some of the light behind him and make the visual clearer on the other side. He saw a few people wandering about in the distance. He saw what looked like a frail old woman being escorted by someone in a palace uniform. Likely a knight. Maybe it was their mother. Or just someone who had asked for help and received it.

Even though the similarities were slim, his mind wouldn’t be rid of Saph, of the way they’d linked their arms together so easily like old friends or lovers. How they paraded themselves around without a care.

He glanced over at his bed, to Jizelle sleeping soundly.

He sighed, closing his eyes wearily.

If she’d written the opposite of what she had on that small page, would she have been the one in his bed instead? His mind mulled over that question. Would she have been the one he married against all the odds placed against them? Would she have been removed like the other noble ladies and the princess… or would Saph have continued causing mischief at his side?

Would he be laughing now, instead of consumed with worry?

Would things be… happier here?

He ran a hand through his hair, knowing there wasn’t a part of it that looked presentable anymore anyway. He always ended up looking worse after going over papers. His habit of running a hand through his hair was a near constant when he was keeping Ariana and her people in check while making sure decisions within the kingdom were fair, no matter the place or station.

Maybe in an alternate world, he thought to himself, we were still together. Maybe there, you never left and I never had to find a letter. Maybe… I’d have not gone home to be king. Or if I did, maybe you decided to stay when you learned the truth about me. Maybe there were more truths to learn about you. Maybe, in that world, we’d have kids and laughter and matching rings on our fingers, coordinate our outfits, and have sleepless nights just because we wanted to stay up and chat.

That world didn’t sound too bad to Owen. It was the world he’d have preferred over this one, the one of never knowing the answers or the truth, of separation. Of palace sabotage and intrigue.

Of missing that girl named Saph.

5 Days later.

Owen liked riding horses, so there was no way they were stuffing him into a carriage to parade around to the towns and small cities. He was on his horse. He was riding his horse. He loved his horse and the feeling of freedom it gave him. He didn’t care if his butt got sore from riding too long. If anything, he was proud of how far he could ride. Mainly, forever, if he could.

As they neared and crossed the river, they were able to see a small little town coming into view.

It warmed his heart to see smiles on their faces, no skinny limbs on the villagers. Healthy. The place and people looked better than before. Happier.

Good, he thought, that’s good.

Only, as he gazed around, it seemed some of the housing needed serious updating, more than some of the other places they’d passed through. He made a mental note to bring it up to his aide, Michael. Protecting the people also meant making sure they had secure lodging that didn’t look as if it were about to collapse. It needed to be remedied. They’d likely need to send out careful inspectors to every village. Of course, with the wealth of the royal family, nobody would need to pay for the repairs themselves, but they’d need to also secure personnel able to make the necessary updates. Start in the hardest and easiest places at the same time. That way, the ones with minor fixes wouldn’t get worse before they got to them, and those in need of larger fixes would have ample time to get them done. A meet in the middle tactic.

His mind wandered as his eyes drifted about without much purpose. Eventually, he caught sight of locals, wandering about, some headed to the market, some leaving it. He smiled. These were the good people he protected.

There was a carriage next to the market, getting loaded with food to sell elsewhere, he suspected. But the amount of food really told the story. This place was doing well in harvest. It made his heart swell all the more with pride in his people, for sticking it out and surviving through hardship.

The only thing left to do was to make that hardship less, to improve their living spaces.