Maia squinted against the morning sun as it cast a golden sheen across the cobblestone street, the warmth doing little to soothe her restless spirit. The shadows of stoic horses pulling carriages and carts stretched like long fingers across the road, grasping at anything in their path. She trailed behind her stepmother and sister, her steps slow, feet dragging as though tethered by invisible chains to this march toward another tedious fitting at the tailor.

Her gaze flitted upward to the birds hopping from branch to branch, their wings glinting in the sunlight. Their carefree chirps seemed to mock her. The irony of her desire for freedom was not lost on her—she could hardly escape the tightening grip of her stepmother’s machinations, let alone fly like the birds above.

As they strolled down the bustling street, her stepmother suddenly halted, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto a figure across the way. A knowing glimmer flashed in her eyes before she plastered on an uncharacteristically pleasant smile and darted toward her target. “Commander Cassius,” she said, greeting him warmly, a syrupy sweetness coating her voice as though they were old friends meeting by chance. “I had hoped to speak with you at the ball last night,” her stepmother continued, her voice lilting with feigned disappointment. “But fortune did not favor me.”

Dante’s gaze flickered past her, landing on Maia, who stood slightly apart from the scene unfolding before her. His hesitant voice pierced the tension of the moment, “Listen,” he began, his deep voice tinged with caution, aware of the delicate situation of the marriage proposal looming between them. Before he could finish, the duchess cut him off sharply.

“Commander, if I may,” her tone was curt, “I’d like to present my stepdaughter, Maia.” Duchess Theon gestured to the girl standing behind her with an open hand. As if on cue, Maia shuffled forward slowly and reluctantly, her eyes lowered briefly. She met his gaze with an equal mixture of respect and hostility that only he could pick up on—a subtle reminder of the heated argument from the night before. Dante gave her a brief glance before his lips quirked up into a barely noticeable smile.

“Maia,” her stepmother’s voice broke through the silence, her tone stern. “You must forgive the Commander for missing the ball. I’m sure he had important matters to attend to. Isn’t that right, Commander?”

“Yes,” Dante nodded quickly in response, his eyes not straying from Maia. He could tell she was anything but thrilled to be thrust into this meeting. There was a spark in her eyes, a defiant glint that set her apart from the other women he encountered, who were eager to bow to social expectations. Something about her intrigued him despite his reluctance to entertain these marriage negotiations.

“Perhaps,” her stepmother suggested, “the two of you could take a walk together. It is such a lovely day, after all.” Her stepmother’s lips turned upwards into a tight, forced smile as she gave Maia a gentle push towards Dante. She stumbled forward as he reached out, and their hands met. She could feel the slight pressure of his fingers before he slowly released her hand.

Maia nervously glanced between Dante and her stepmother, then finally to Ember, standing silently on the side of the street. It was difficult for her to determine what emotion was playing on her stepsister’s face. Was it worry, or something else? Before Maia could ponder further, her stepmother ushered Ember away, leaving them alone on the sidewalk.

Dante heaved an exasperated sigh and shook his head, “Just what I need.” His gaze shifted from the crowded sidewalks, people milling and going about their routine, to Maia’s expectant face. “What do you want to do?” He was obliged to accompany her until she safely returned home.

Maia’s jaw clenched as she watched her stepmother and sister disappear into the crowd, their absence leaving her alone with Dante. She swallowed the lump of frustration in her throat and met his gaze. “We can just walk,” she said, her voice tight with anger, before she turned on her heel and strode down the street, not waiting for his reply.

Dante fell into step beside her, adjusting his long strides to match her more delicate pace. The air around them buzzed with the hum of life in the city—the scent of freshly baked bread, the sound of merchants haggling with customers, and the bright colors of flowers adorning every shop window.

He watched as a gaggle of ladies passed, carrying garment bags draped over their arms. He noticed the flush to their cheeks and the twinkle in their eyes as if they shared an exciting secret. “Prince Flynn’s birthday is next week,” he said, nodding towards the group. He then turned to Maia with a curious look on his face. “Aren’t you going to get a new gown like the other ladies?”

“Have you been dress shopping with my stepmother?” Maia responded playfully, her voice laced with sarcasm. The thought of Dante accompanying her cold, calculating stepmother on such an errand was almost comical. “It’s an all-day affair,” she continued, rolling her eyes. “So thank you. You’ve saved me from a mind-numbingly dreaded, boring day.”

As they walked, Dante cast sidelong glances at Maia. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and her lips were pursed as she contemplated her words. His lips twitched in amusement at her comment; he never met a woman who hated shopping. A smile broke through as his curiosity was piqued. He realized he wanted to know more about this confident, fiery woman who had been so meekly dancing to the whims of her stepmother’s orders only a few moments prior. “That horrid, huh? Glad I could help,” he said with an easy grin before continuing, “Regardless, you still have time until the ball.”

Maia’s eyes flicked toward a dress in one of the shop windows, her expression momentarily wistful before she looked away. “It’s been two years since I’ve had a new gown. Since my father passed away.”

Dante looked at Maia, her hair an aureate halo in the bright sunlight. He fixed her with an amused yet slightly incredulous stare and raised an eyebrow. “Was your father bankrupt?” he asked.

She halted, her head snapping toward him, eyes blazing. “That’s a very personal question,” she said.

He scrunched his face as he pondered, his expression unbothered. His feet kept marching forward in a steady rhythm, “Is it?” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else around him. “I can never tell.”

Maia paced alongside him. Her voice was taut, like a bowstring at full draw. “No, you said it last night yourself. My father was one of the wealthiest dukes in the kingdom. My stepmother looks after his estate and controls my inheritance until I’m wed.”

Dante’s gaze lingered on her face as she spoke, and he noticed the spark of defiance in her deep brown eyes. Her petite frame was deceiving—the soft curves of her cheeks and lips belied a strength that seemed to ripple through every gesture and word. She exuded an irresistible energy, enchanting yet utterly untamed—a force to be reckoned with, no doubt.

“I see,” he said, peering at her from the corners of his eyes. Her dress was quite extravagant, a rich blue that seemed to catch every ray of sunlight. Yet, he noticed the worn edges of her hem from walking on city streets. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before wandering back to the busy crowd ahead. “I’ve heard your stepmother is relentless,” he said. “But she doesn’t seem so terrible if she wants you to find a husband and claim your inheritance.”

Maia let out a gut-wrenching laugh, the sound echoing through the narrow street. She shook her head, her long, dark curls bouncing with the movement. “Right! That’s why she never matches me with dukes, earls, barons, or even the princes like her own daughter,” she said, her voice low and tinged by bitterness. “She reserves me for the soldiers,” Maia shifted her gaze to the Commander standing beside her, resolve radiating in her dark brown eyes. “She knows many soldiers refuse to get tied down as they are always away. Their first and only love is this kingdom.”

As they continued to walk, Maia tried to keep her eyes on the cobblestone path winding ahead. But her thoughts were a jumbled mess, like a stubborn knot she couldn’t undo. She could feel the sun’s rays kissing her skin but couldn’t find peace in its warmth. Instead, She felt like a caged bird, longing to take off and fly away from this uncertain future that seemed to be closing in around her.

Dante’s pale eyes, like a sudden snowfall in the afternoon light, bore into hers and searched for any sign of an answer. “Is that why she matched you with me?”