The capital at night was a different beast entirely. If the day was a roar of commerce and duty, the night was a whisper of secrets and neon-colored magic imported from distant lands.
Arthur and Erika moved through the streets like shadows with mismatched feet. Arthur was skittish, jumping at every clanking armor or distant shout, while Erika moved with a fluid, confident grace that didn't fit her baggy trousers.
"You walk loud," Erika critiqued, pausing near a baker's stall that was closing up for the night. "Lift your feet. Stop stomping."
"I don't stomp," Arthur whispered harshly, pressing his back against a brick wall as a patrol marched past the street opening. "I walk like a normal person. You walk like a... cat."
"It's called stealth, Farmboy." Erika reached out and swiped a bright green apple from a crate. In a blur of motion, she flicked a gold coin onto the counter, unseen by Arthur or the tired baker.
She tossed the apple to Arthur. "Catch."
Arthur fumbled it, nearly dropping his axe. He looked at the fruit in horror. "You stole again! Are you crazy? That baker looked like he could wrestle a bear!"
"He won't miss one apple," Erika crunched into her own red one. "Besides, fruits taste better when they're... liberated."
Arthur shook his head, but he took a bite. It was crisp, tart, and delicious. "You're going to get us thrown in the dungeon. And I can't go to the dungeon. I have to find a way to get my friends back."
Erika's playful smile softened. They were walking along the canal now, the water reflecting the lanterns strung between the houses. "Your friends. Leo and Maya, right?"
"Yeah," Arthur kicked a pebble into the water. "Leo would love this place. He'd probably try to climb the castle walls just to see the view. And Maya... she'd be lecturing you about the economic impact of apple theft."
"She sounds fun," Erika said dryly.
"She is," Arthur defended. "She keeps us alive. And now they're probably halfway back to Oakhaven in shackles because I wanted to see the world."
Erika stopped walking. She looked at the castle looming above them, its white towers glowing in the moonlight. "Sometimes," she said softly, "freedom has a cost. But that doesn't mean it isn't worth fighting for."
Arthur looked at her. For a second, the thief was gone, replaced by someone older, sadder. "You talk like you know a lot about fighting for freedom."
"I know a lot about cages," Erika shrugged, the mask slipping back into place. "Come on. There's a bard in the lower district who plays a lute with strings made of dragon-gut. It screams when he plays it. It's awful. You have to hear it."
They spent the next hour in a whirlwind of teenage rebellion. They watched the bard (it was indeed awful), they danced in a circle of drunk merchants who mistook Arthur for a famous wrestler, and they nearly got trampled by a runaway carriage carrying fireworks.
For the first time since leaving Oakhaven, Arthur forgot about the hum in his blood. He forgot about the nightmare. He was just Arthur, and she was just Erika.
But the night couldn't last forever.
They were cutting through a narrow alleyway known as the "Weaver's Needle" to avoid the main road when the air changed.
The festive noise of the city faded, replaced by the heavy, rhythmic thud of steel boots on stone.
Arthur froze. "Guards."
He grabbed Erika's arm and pulled her behind a stack of empty dye barrels. "They're coming from the south end. We need to go north."
Erika peered around the barrel. Her eyes narrowed. "No. There's another squad coming from the north. We're boxed in."
"How do you know?"
"I just know," Erika hissed. She recognized the patrol pattern. It was the Royal Guard's 'Pincer Movement Delta.' Conrad wasn't taking chances anymore. He was closing the net.
"Okay," Arthur took a deep breath, his hand drifting to his axe handle. "Okay. Listen to me, Snatcher. When they turn the corner, I'm going to distract them. I'll make a scene. You climb that trellis and get to the roofs."
Erika looked at him, genuinely surprised. "You're going to use yourself as bait? For me?"
"They want me for running away," Arthur said, his jaw setting. "They want you for theft. The punishment for theft is... well, it's bad. I'll just get sent back to the turnip fields."
"Arthur..."
"Go!"
Arthur stepped out from behind the barrels just as the two squads of guards converged on the alley.
There were ten of them. They weren't the City Watch with leather armor. These were the Elites—knights in full plate armor engraved with silver falcons, their capes blue as the deep ocean.
"Halt!" the lead knight boomed, his hand resting on the pommel of a broadsword.
Arthur stood his ground. He didn't draw his axe—that would be suicide—but he spread his arms wide, blocking the view of the barrels behind him.
"You caught me!" Arthur shouted, his voice cracking slightly before finding its strength. "I'm the runaway! Arthur of Oakhaven! Take me! But the... uh... the girl behind me? She's just a beggar I met. She didn't do anything. Let her go!"
The lead knight stopped. He looked at Arthur, confused. Then he looked past Arthur, to the figure stepping out from the shadows.
Erika walked up to stand beside Arthur. She pulled the woolen cap off her head, shaking her golden hair loose. She stood straighter, her posture shifting from slouching thief to something rigid and regal.
"Run!" Arthur hissed at her, panic flaring in his eyes. "What are you doing? I can't fight ten knights!"
"You don't have to, Arthur," Erika said softly.
The lead knight's eyes widened behind his visor. He didn't draw his sword. Instead, he slammed his fist against his chestplate with a clang that echoed off the walls.
"My Lady!"
And then, to Arthur's absolute bewilderment, the ten terrifying knights dropped to one knee in unison. The sound of metal hitting stone was deafening. They bowed their heads, capes spreading out like pools of water.
"We have been searching everywhere," the knight said, his voice trembling with relief. "The Commander is frantic. Please, Your Majesty... it is not safe."
Arthur blinked. He looked at the kneeling knights. He looked at the dirty alleyway. And then, slowly, terrified, he turned his head to look at the girl beside him.
Erika was smiling. It wasn't the mischievous smirk of the thief, but a gentle, apologetic smile.
"Your... Majesty?" Arthur squeaked.
"I told you," Erika said, dusting a speck of soot off her baggy trousers. "I left my crown at home."
Arthur's mouth opened and closed like a fish. "But... the apple. You stole an apple."
"I paid a gold coin for it," Erika admitted. "Overpayment, really."
"The... the meat?"
"Leftovers from the royal kitchen."
"The... the name? The Snatcher?"
"Okay, that was made up," Erika winced. "I'm not really proud of that one."
Arthur stumbled back, his legs hitting the dye barrel. "You're the Queen. The actual Queen. Queen Erika."
"In the flesh," Erika curtsied, a perfect, courtly motion that looked ridiculous in her muddy boots.
She reached out a hand to him. The knights stayed kneeling, statues of obedience.
"Arthur of Oakhaven," Erika said, her voice regaining that command he had heard on the hill, but warmer now. "You were willing to fight the Royal Guard to save a thief. You have a brave heart. Perhaps too brave for a turnip farmer."
Arthur stared at her hand. The hum in his blood was deafening now, reacting to the sheer weight of the moment.
" And I thought you were going to rob me," Arthur whispered, still in shock.
"And I thought you were a scarecrow," Erika laughed. "Come. The castle has better food than roasted rat-on-a-stick. And I think I owe you a proper meal. As my guest."
Arthur looked at the knights, then at the castle looming above, and finally at the girl who had shared his dinner under a tree. He took her hand.
"I'm never going to hear the end of this from Leo," Arthur muttered.
"Probably not," Erika agreed, pulling him toward the castle gates. "Now walk with some dignity, Farmboy. You're with the Queen."