Chapter 5: Fight

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CHAPTER 5

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

RHIANNON had barely slept. The weight of the accusation, the confinement, the lingering tension between her and Simon-it was all pressing against her chest like an iron clasp. This all was new to her. New feeling.

She had spent hours replaying the events in her mind, trying to make sense of how the brooch had vanished. She knew she hadn't taken it, but someone wanted her to suffer for it. Someone had placed her in the Queen's sight with a noose around her neck.

And Simon...

He had saved her.

It's not every day a prince saves ordinary girls.

Now, as she moved through the servant's passage, head low, she couldn't shake the memory of his voice, of the way he had looked at her last night. «"You owe me now."»

She wasn't sure what unsettled her more-that he had said it with such certainty or that some part of her didn't mind owing him.

Simon had been waiting for her.

Rhiannon stepped into the empty training hall, her breath hitching when she found him leaning against the weapons rack, arms crossed, watching her. His mask was back in place, hiding whatever storm brewed beneath.

"You look like hell" he remarked.

She glared.

"I feel like it."

"Good." He pushed off the rack, stepping closer, gaze assessing. "Then you're ready."

"For what?"

"To stop waiting for them to find that damned brooch."

She frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Simon's voice dropped lower.

"You want to sit around, praying it turns up, hoping Evelyne doesn't twist the Queen's ear further? Or do you want to find it yourself?"

Rhiannon's pulse quickened.

"You think I can?"

Simon smirked.

"I think you don't have a choice."

She studied him for a long moment. There was something in his voice, something heavy, as if he wasn't just talking about her.

He wasn't wrong. If she wanted to clear her name, she needed to act.

Rhiannon squared her shoulders.

"Where do we start?"

Simon nodded, pleased.

"With the last person who wanted you gone."

The eastern wing was quiet when they entered. Too quiet.

Simon walked ahead, his presence alone enough to silence any wandering servants.

Rhiannon followed, heart pounding as they reached Lady Evelyne's chamber.

Simon knocked, not waiting for an answer before stepping inside. Rhia was shocked by his actions. Evelyne was seated at her vanity, running a silver comb through her golden curls.

Her expression remained carefully neutral as she met Simon's gaze through the mirror.

"Your Highness" she greeted smoothly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Simon didn't waste time.

"The brooch."

A delicate scoff.

"Oh, still on that?"

Rhiannon forced herself to stay still, to keep her fists from tightening.

Simon tilted his head.

"You seemed rather eager for punishment yesterday. Why so indifferent now?"

Evelyne set her comb down, finally turning to face him fully.

"I have no need to concern myself with stolen trinkets. The Queen has already made her ruling."

Simon hummed.

"That's the thing, though." He took a slow step forward. "You made a mistake."

Her brow arched.

"Oh?"

"You were too eager." His voice remained smooth, but his eyes burned with something darker. "Too eager to accuse. Too eager to make it believable."

Evelyne laughed lightly, but there was something tight in her posture.

Simon glanced at Rhiannon, then back at Evelyne.

"The thing is, I don't think you expected me to step in. You thought she'd be punished, out of sight, out of mind."

Evelyne's lips twitched.

"Are you accusing me of something, Your Highness?"

Simon smiled. It wasn't kind.

"I don't need to" he said. "Because I already know where the brooch is."

A flicker of something passed through Evelyne's gaze. A crack in the perfect mask.

Simon turned to Rhiannon.

"Check the hem of her gown."

Evelyne stood abruptly.

"How dare you-"

Rhiannon was faster. She stepped forward and with quick fingers, flipped the embroidered hem of Evelyne's skirts.

And there, stitched into the delicate folds, was the missing brooch.

Silence fell like a blade.

Evelyne's face paled, her lips pressing into a thin line. Rhiannon barely breathed. Simon's hand brushed her arm-light, a brief reassurance before he spoke again.

"That" he said, voice deceptively calm, "is treason."

Evelyne's lips parted, but no words came.

Simon turned away.

"Guards."

The moment the door swung open, she finally found her voice.

"Wait!"

But it was too late. Simon's grip found Rhiannon's wrist, pulling her from the room as the guards stormed in. They walked in silence.

The halls stretched before them, empty save for the flickering torches lining the stone walls. Rhiannon's heart was still racing, her mind spinning from the sheer weight of what had just happened.

Evelyne was finished.

And she... she was free. Free of the whispers that had spread though the castle. Free from the unnecessary side eyes.

Rhiannon exhaled sharply, slowing her steps. Simon did too, his hold on her wrist lingering a second longer before releasing.

She turned to him, searching his masked face, his unreadable gaze.

"What if she was naked?" Rhia asked wanting to ask the question right on queue when he done that earlier.

"Wha-"

"No I just mean like- you just entered. You know..."

"Well, I just knew she wasn't." Simon responded. He didn't even thought about that.

"What if she was tho?"

"I don't know" Simon started slightly panic of the topic of the conversation but recovered. "Why? Are you jealous?"

"Wha- NO?"

"Hmm"

A silence followed.

Rhia started thinking, breaking the silence spread between them.

"You knew," she said softly. "You knew where it was."

Simon didn't deny it.

"How?" she pressed.

He hesitated. Then, with a sigh, he reached into his coat and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment.

"Someone slipped this under my door last night."

Rhiannon took it, unfolding the note. Three words had been scrawled in sharp ink.

Check her hem.

She looked up at him.

"Who...?"

Simon shook his head.

"Doesn't matter."

But it did. Someone had helped her. Someone had ensured the truth came to light. And Simon had trusted it. Trusted her. Who?

Rhiannon swallowed, her chest tightening with something unfamiliar. Something warm.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Simon's gaze flickered. "Don't thank me yet, princess."

Rhiannon's lips parted in protest, but the words caught in her throat when he stepped closer. Just enough.

Just enough for her breath to catch, for the space between them to shrink into something dangerous.

Simon tilted his head, voice lower now.

"You still owe me."

Rhiannon swallowed hard.

"And what exactly do I owe you?"

The silence between them was charged. His gaze lingered on her lips, just a second too long.

Then, finally, he smirked.

"I'll think of something."

And with that, he turned, leaving her breathless in the dim torchlight.

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Rhiannon had expected relief to settle in once Lady Evelyne had been dealt with, but it never came. Instead, her mind was a whirlwind, tangled in everything that had happened, in everything Simon had said.

«"You still owe me."»

'What possible does he want for me.'

The words echoed in her head, a silent promise wrapped in something she didn't dare name.

The castle was quieter now. The whispers about the stolen brooch had shifted-no longer murmurs of a thieving servant, but of Lady Evelyne's sudden disgrace. Some said she had fled before punishment could be dealt, others claimed she had been quietly sent away. Either way, she was gone.

Rhiannon was free. And yet, she found herself standing outside the training hall once again, drawn back to where everything had begun.

The doors were slightly ajar. Inside, the familiar rhythm of fists meeting cloth filled the air.

Simon was there, his stance steady as he worked against the training dummy, muscles tensing with each precise strike.

His mask was discarded on a nearby bench, the candlelight casting sharp shadows across his face.

Rhiannon hesitated before stepping inside.

Simon didn't stop.

"Took you long enough."

She frowned.

"You were expecting me?"

He delivered one last powerful blow before turning to face her.

"I knew you'd come."

Rhiannon folded her arms.

"And why is that?"

Simon smirked, grabbing a cloth to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Because I still haven't collected my debt."

Her heart stuttered, though she kept her expression composed.

"Your becoming obsessed with that. And what exactly do you want in return?"

Simon didn't answer right away. Instead, he walked past her, toward the bench where his mask rested. He picked it up, running a gloved finger along its surface before finally meeting her gaze.

"I want a fight."

Rhiannon blinked.

"A fight?"

Simon nodded, setting the mask down.

"A proper one. No holding back."

She narrowed her eyes.

"That's your price?"

He shrugged.

"For now."

She laughed lightly.

"What you want is entertaining, right prince Simon?"

Something in his gaze told her there was more to it-something he wasn't saying.

Rhiannon took a slow step forward.

"Okay, Fine."

Simon raised a brow.

"Fine?"

She nodded.

"You trained me for days. Seems only fair I get to test what I've learned."

A spark of something dark flickered in his eyes.

"Then let's see if you've been paying attention, princess."

The fight began with careful steps, both of them circling, assessing. Simon struck first-a swift movement, controlled but not restrained. Rhiannon dodged, barely, feeling the rush of air as his fist grazed past her shoulder.

She countered, using her smaller frame to slip beneath his guard. Simon caught her wrist before she could land a strike, twisting just enough to send her off balance. But she had been expecting that. Using his grip as leverage, she kicked at his knee, forcing him to release her. He stepped back, eyes flashing with something close to amusement.

"Not bad" he murmured.

Rhiannon smirked.

"I've had a good teacher."

Simon lunged again, and this time, she met him head-on. The sound of their movements echoed in the empty hall-quick steps, sharp breaths, the occasional scrape of boots against stone.

For a moment, nothing else existed.

No titles. No debts. No forbidden lines drawn between them. Just the fight. Just them.

Rhiannon feinted left before shifting her weight and striking right. Simon caught her wrist again, but this time, she twisted free before he could lock his hold. She aimed for his ribs, but he blocked her, their movements seamless, fluid.

Then, with a sudden move, Simon caught her completely off guard.

He used her own momentum against her, twisting her arm behind her back and pulling her flush against his chest.

Rhiannon gasped, struggling instinctively, but his grip was firm. Not painful-just unyielding.

Her heart pounded against her ribs.

His breath was warm against her ear.

"Yield" Simon murmured.

Rhiannon gritted her teeth.

"Never."

She shifted, using every ounce of strength to break free, but it only made things worse. His hold tightened, his body pressing against hers, and suddenly, she was far too aware of how close they were. Too close. The fight was over, but neither of them moved.

Simon's fingers flexed against her wrist before finally, slowly, releasing her. Rhiannon turned to face him, breath unsteady.

His gaze burned into hers-intense, unreadable. Neither of them spoke. The silence was thick, laced with something dangerous, something they had been avoiding for far too long.

Simon's eyes flicked to her lips, just for a second. Rhiannon's breath hitched.

Then, as if breaking some invisible spell, Simon stepped back.

"Not bad" he said, voice lower than before.

Rhiannon exhaled sharply.

"You already said that."

Simon smirked.

"Just making sure you heard it."

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the heat still coiling in her stomach.

But as she turned to leave, Simon's voice stopped her.

"This debt" he murmured.

Rhiannon glanced over her shoulder. Simon's smirk faded, replaced by something softer. Something real.

"I'm not done collecting."

Her pulse thrummed, but she only nodded before slipping out of the training hall, leaving the unspoken words between them to linger in the dark.

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