The house was quiet that night.
Too quiet.
Rajula sat near the small window of her room, watching the moonlight spill across the valley. The mountains stood dark and silent beyond the village, their jagged silhouettes cutting into the sky like ancient guardians.
Most nights she would already be asleep by now.
But tonight her mind refused to rest.
Merchant.
Promise.
Years ago.
Her father had dismissed the travelers' story too quickly. And Rajula had known him long enough to recognize when he was avoiding something.
Which meant one thing.
There was something worth avoiding.
Rajula sighed and pushed herself away from the window.
"Fine," she muttered. "Let's investigate."
She stepped quietly into the main room.
The fire had burned low, leaving only glowing embers that painted the walls in dim orange light. Her father's room door was closed, and faint snores could already be heard from inside.
Rajula smiled slightly.
Good.
That meant he wouldn't interrupt her search.
She moved slowly around the house.
Their home wasn't large — just a few rooms, wooden beams, and stone walls that had survived more winters than she could count.
If there was a secret here…
It couldn't be hidden very far.
Rajula opened a wooden cabinet.
Nothing.
Just bowls and dried herbs.
She checked a shelf near the fireplace.
Old tools.
A broken lantern.
She crouched near a chest by the wall.
Blankets.
Rajula leaned back and crossed her arms.
"Either he's very good at hiding things," she whispered to herself, "or I'm very bad at searching."
She glanced around the room again.
Then her eyes stopped.
Near the fireplace, the wooden floorboards looked slightly… different.
Rajula walked closer.
One of the boards had a faint scratch along its edge.
A mark.
Like someone had lifted it before.
Her eyebrows rose slowly.
"Well…"
She knelt down and slid her fingers along the edge of the board.
It lifted easily.
Beneath it was a small hollow space.
And inside that hollow space…
Was a wooden box.
Rajula carefully pulled it out.
It was old — older than most things in the house. The wood was dark and smooth from years of handling, and a small metal clasp held the lid closed.
Rajula stared at it.
Her curiosity burned hotter now.
"Father," she whispered, "what are you hiding?"
She opened the box.
Inside were only two things.
A folded piece of parchment.
And a small ring.
Rajula picked up the ring first.
It was heavy and made of gold, engraved with a symbol she didn't recognize — a lion standing beneath a rising sun.
Even Rajula, who knew little about royal symbols, could tell this was not an ordinary ring.
She placed it carefully on the table.
Then she picked up the parchment.
The paper crackled softly as she unfolded it.
Rajula's eyes scanned the writing.
At first the words meant nothing.
Formal language.
Old signatures.
But then she saw the names.
Her father's name.
Sunapati Shauka.
And another name.
Rajula froze.
Her heart skipped.
Malushahi.
Prince Malushahi.
She read the document again.
More slowly this time.
Her eyes moved across the lines as understanding slowly dawned.
Years ago, during a royal trade agreement…
Sunapati Shauka and the royal court had formed an alliance.
A promise.
A marriage promise.
Between their future children.
Rajula lowered the parchment slightly.
Her mind struggled to process the meaning.
Future children.
Her father had only one daughter.
Rajula.
Her eyes moved back to the name on the parchment.
Malushahi.
The prince.
Rajula stared at the document for a long moment.
Then she laughed.
Not loudly.
Just once.
A short, stunned laugh.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Behind her, the floor creaked.
Rajula spun around.
Sunapati stood in the doorway.
His expression was not angry.
It was something worse.
Resigned.
He looked at the open box on the table.
Then at the parchment in Rajula's hand.
"I wondered how long it would take you," he said quietly.
Rajula slowly held up the paper.
"This… is real?"
Sunapati walked into the room and sat down heavily in a chair.
"Yes."
Rajula stared at him.
"You promised me to the prince?"
Sunapati rubbed his forehead.
"It was many years ago."
"That doesn't answer the question."
Sunapati looked at her.
"Yes."
The single word hung heavily in the room.
Rajula blinked.
"So… let me understand this correctly."
She gestured toward the parchment.
"You promised your future daughter to the future prince of the kingdom."
Sunapati nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Rajula looked down at the document again.
Then back at her father.
Then back at the document.
Another small laugh escaped her.
"This is insane."
Sunapati didn't argue.
Because it was.
Rajula placed the parchment back on the table.
"So the prince I've never met…"
She tapped the paper.
"…is technically supposed to marry me?"
Sunapati sighed.
"The promise was never meant to control your life."
Rajula folded her arms.
"Then why keep it?"
Sunapati didn't answer immediately.
Finally he said,
"Because promises matter."
Rajula stared at him for a moment.
Then she turned and walked to the doorway.
"Rajula," Sunapati said quietly.
She stopped.
"Where are you going?"
Rajula looked out at the dark valley beyond the house.
Her mind was spinning with a hundred thoughts.
A prince.
A promise.
A future she had never imagined.
Then slowly…
A small smile appeared on her face.
"I'm thinking," she said.
"About what?"
Rajula glanced over her shoulder.
"About the capital."
Sunapati's expression tightened.
Rajula looked back toward the mountains.
Far beyond them…
Was the royal palace.
And somewhere in that palace…
Lived the prince who had unknowingly been promised to her.
Rajula smiled slightly.
"Well," she murmured.
"I suppose I should meet him."