Alina's POV.
"That is ridiculous; there is never a way such a creature would exist," Nissa muttered in disbelief.
I know she could be right, but I can't say for sure what's really real or not, not after seeing that man in the dream who looks like one of them. It could also be my mind or the effects of the images in the book toying with my memory; it could also be the opposite. Whatever it is, it's too real to be true.
"Well, I can't say for sure. Help me with the belts," I replied, cutting off further arguments from her as she dropped the book to fix the belts.
She tied the belt snug, then gave me a sly look as I slid into my rough leather shoes.
"Why are you looking more… beautiful today? Was your imaginary Prince Charming working his magic last night?"My breath caught.
What! What does she mean? Did she notice? No… I never told her. He only held my hand. We didn't…did we? The little guilty voice in my head deliberated in defiance and confusion.
Nissa's question came with a mischievous wink, and I felt a helpless blush rush to my cheeks, my face burning red as if I'd been caught doing something shameful. The image of the forestman. His eyes, his towering wolfish silhouette, blazing at the peak of my mind, as vivid as if I had seen him in waking life.
I know it's ridiculous to be blushing over a stranger conjured by my dreams, someone with sharp, feral features no less—yet here I am, tumbling down an impossible path toward someone who exists only when I close my eyes.
Nissa noticed instantly, of course; she always did. And with her, there was no mercy. Her teasing smile sharpened, her voice lilting as she leaned closer.
"Wooow… you're going red for him, Alina!" she gasped in mock horror, covering her mouth with her palm like a gossiping maiden.
I groaned, almost wanting to slap her hand away, and at the same time, to dive into the earth and disappear.
"No, no! This isn't for him." I waved her off quickly, though my words stumbled over themselves. "I don't even know why I'm feeling this way," I admitted in a low voice, betraying myself with the honesty that slipped free.
Nissa's grin grew wider, triumph glinting in her eyes. that makes me right," she whispered, smug as ever.
"You really need to get those nutty thoughts out of your head," I scoffed, rolling my eyes to hide my nervous smile. "There's no way I would ever fall for an unrealistic image I saw in a dream." My voice hardened on the last part, as if I could convince myself.
She hummed as though unconvinced but mercifully dropped the subject. "Well, let's get going. We don't have much time left." Then, with that playful grin of hers, she added, "Though, if he's a prince, I wouldn't mind selling you off to him."
"Excuse me?" I gasped, but her fingers darted to my ribs, tickling me until laughter burst from my chest.
The heaviness of the conversation melted away as we both giggled, stumbling out of the small cottage and into the lively streets.
*************
The kingdom was already awake and buzzing. It was the Royal Family's anniversary week, a celebration marked each year with feasts, performances, and parades. The air practically thrummed with energy. Merchants shouted from stalls, selling bright silks and gleaming trinkets for the festivities. Children darted between the crowd with ribbons in their hair. Musicians tuned their lutes and drums on the street corners, preparing for the coming revelry.
Nissa and I wove through it all, chattering as always, our voices mingling with the chaos. To an outsider, we might have looked like carefree young women, excited for the celebrations. But inside, I carried the weight of a different truth.
Because this week wasn't only the Royal Family's anniversary. It was also my birthday week.
Not that I celebrated. Not anymore.
The very thought of it made my chest tighten. Two days from now, the day I will turn twenty-five, marks more than my age. It reminded me of the story Grandmother had told me—the one I could never forget, no matter how I tried. That I had been found abandoned in the woods as an infant, left to be swallowed by the wild. She said she had picked me up, wrapped in a cloak.
Ever since, I'd felt like my birthday was not something to celebrate but something to mourn. A reminder that somewhere, someone had decided I was not worth keeping. That my existence had been left to chance and mercy.
Nissa knew this well. She'd been there during my darkest years, when I cried myself to sleep each time I got bullied by other kids. After one awful fight when she was fifteen—when she'd innocently reminded me of the day. I had screamed, cried, and broken apart so badly that she swore never to mention it again. From then on, we would simply ignore our birthdays. Pretend they didn't exist. She even stopped celebrating her own, out of loyalty to me. It was a small, silent rebellion against the pain we both knew too well.
Nissa and I share many features, like her flat stomach, her graceful curves, and her slender figure that mirrors mine. Yet there were differences, of course. My waist was narrower, my hips fuller. My skin was almost unnaturally, magically enhanced with a sun-kissed glow, which I often covered with the light-mud mask to reduce attention. And then there was my hair—my greatest curse and mystery.
Silvery strands that caught light like spun moonlight, unlike anyone else in the village. Combined with my sharper facial features, it was enough to brand me as odd, strange… even dangerous.
From childhood, people have whispered that I'm a witch, a cursed child, unnatural. I had grown used to it, but the sting never fully dulled. I stood taller than girls of my age, even way taller than Nissa, and each difference carved me further from the world I wanted so desperately to belong to.