It is as if time stands still when those bright eyes meet mine. Familiar forest green that strikes a cold fear down my spine when I picture his face on a "WANTED" poster. It is the face of the owner I hardly knew yet can recognize so easily. He is the man who broke so many rules, tarnished a completely well reputation, and cowered into hiding. The man who no one has seen for many years now stands before me with an actual smirk on his face.

"Princess," he says, almost mockingly.

Phillip, poor Phillip, staggers to his feet in attempts to attack the intruder. But the criminal is too fast for him. He whips around and grips Phillip's chin, angling his face upwards whilst pressing his thumb into the base of his neck, right where his shoulders meet. I watch in astonishment as Phillip's eyes flutter shut and he crumbles to the floor once more. I stare in horror at the man when he turns back to me.

"It is only a trick I learned. Do not fret, he is merely asleep," he tells me, his amusement never leaving his eyes.

I gather a bit of my wits and narrow my eyes. "What business do you want with me?"

His smirk widens to a grin, lopsided and goofy. "Oh, don't flatter yourself. I am not here for you, but for what you have." His eyes scan the gold scattered across the floor.

My eyes roll on their own. "Men," I grumble, pushing to my feet. He offers his hand but I ignore it. "Take all of it if you must. It means nothing to me."

He studies me a moment, something in his eyes I can't depict.

Oddly, my cheeks flush and I huff, averting my gaze. "Do hurry up. More guards will come for me soon. The buffoons--who I assume are yours--will only keep them busy for so long."

He's still smiling, but he finally tears his stare from me and gets on his hands and knees, shuffling the gold coins into a pile before scooping them into the box. He stands tall once more, the box resting in the crook of his elbow against his chest. He stares at me again.

"Well? Go on. Leave," I usher, immensely uncomfortable.

He tilts his head slightly to the side. "You know my identity," he remarks. Another strike of fear pierces through me. What if he decides I am untrustworthy of remaining silent? There are a few ways to insure my silence, and I want no part in any of them. I instinctively take a step back.

This, of course, makes him chuckle. So careless. Does he not know the incredible danger he's put himself in? I cannot imagine he has enough time for casual conversation.

"You won't tell," he says. Not a question, not a threat. Blatant truth. Or blind faith.

I raise my chin. "Won't I?"

He has the audacity to shrug. "You do not know me personally, but I remember enough about you to believe that you will keep quiet."

"And what makes you so convinced?"

But he is climbing out the window from where he flew in, and disappears.

***

The next couple days at the palace are horrendous. As if I didn't have any privacy before, now I can hardly go to sleep at night without hearing princes outside my door arguing over who I may pick. Since the outlaw group broke into the castle itself, it was said they are a high threat and might ambush any royalty that leaves. So, Father allowed each suitor to a room of his own in our grand home for safety measures. Needless to say, the amount of times a man has "conveniently" done an act of kindness in my presence is laughable. Whether it's merely thanking a servant or being polite to their guards, they always make sure they speak loudly enough for my ears to catch.

Rumors have gone around about me for years, but since I accepted Prince Leopold's falter, the gossip has only intensified. To be fair, most of the talk is respectable and decently truthful. For instance, I am a kind and gentle princess with no desire for riches or jewelry. However, that aspect of attitude coming from royalty is unheard of. Many stir up foul things simply to sound more legitimate.

It is every bit exhausting.

The third day of this, Father summons me to his office to speak to me of the new plan. "Another ball," he says. "A masquerade to prove to the citizens that your choice holds no judgment based solely upon appearance. Because of the intrusion--" He licks his lips with a grimace as if he can taste the bitterness of the memory "--at the previous ceremony, we are a bit pressed for time. Instead of five suitors, you shall choose three, then a final ball two weeks later to announce your husband."

I do not bother arguing. It is already established. I bow my head slightly in dismissal. "Yes, Father." Then I take my leave.

I cannot stay in this place any longer. I lift the skirts of my dress and walk quickly, hoping Kate has not yet left for her weekly visit into the village of Riftborne. It is the nearest village, the capital of our kingdom where we venture for supplies. For feasts and fabrics and anything the palace may need. Kate is the mistress who retrieves whatever food is requested from the kitchen. If she is unavailable, the goods are delivered. But she has said before that she enjoys the trip.

I am not allowed to go, but that doesn't mean that I do not. Kate is a hard rock to budge, but usually I can convince her if I haven't traveled with her in a while. It's been a few weeks since I last tagged along, and if I explain my desperation to get away from the constant prying of men, she will no doubt permit me to journey with her.

The guards don't stop me as I head out to the gardens, acting as if that is my destination. When they turn their backs, I slip out the gate to the stables where Kate readies her carriage. She sees me approach with a disapproving frown, but I must appear flustered because her eyebrows soon furrow in concern.

"Annaliese, are you all right?"

"No, not at all. I need to be taken away from here this instant."

Her face then contorts into an expression of amusement.

I huff. "It is nothing to laugh about, Kate. I am in terrible distress."

She chuckles. "Ah, yes. The hassle of men can distress a lady indeed. At least you have men to hassle you, though."

I gape at her. "If you want them, by all means, do take them!"

"Oh, goodness no. I was speaking on behalf of most women, not myself. I have one and one is quite enough."

"You're married?"

"I am."

"I had no idea."

Kate smiles. "The princess doesn't need to know everything, does she?"

"I suppose not," I say, then purse my lips. I can't actually imagine a man lucky enough to be Kate's companion, nonetheless, one that can handle her.

"Well, do you need a break or no?" she questions, gesturing to the open carriage door.

"Yes, please," I say eagerly, climbing inside.

I always enjoy the ride. The flowers bloom from trees and shrubbery on either side of the dirt path, a breeze gently caressing their petals. I smile to myself in content, relishing the peace and quiet. I listen to the horse's hooves trot against the ground. I listen to the villagers chat to their neighbors, helping each other with their daily duties. I feel my eyes close as I rest my head on the side of the carriage despite the steady bumps and jerks. The sleep I've been deprived of overwhelms me suddenly.

Once we near the market, Kate halts the horse and the abruptness of the stop wakes me. I shake my head to rid of the remnants of my small nap just as Kate opens the door to let me out. I place my hand in hers and leap, landing softly in the dirt. It is then that I realize the absence of a cart to place the foods in.

I ask Kate about this and she tells me, "I am only placing orders for the ball that is in two days. The items will then be delivered to the palace."

Naturally, I unintentionally capture the attention of villagers as we pass through. I smile to them as they look on in surprise. One woman with an infant in one hand and the fragile hand of a child in the other falls to a bow, her bag of apples spilling open from her son's hand. I bend to help him retrieve them, then reassure the mother that there is no need to strain herself. I am a human like she, after all.

Royalty. It's a strange thing. How can one human be more important than another?

Kate stops at various merchants to place orders, and I stay outside when she enters the butchery. Then we venture to the outskirts of the market where the bakery sits and I sigh in relief. My favorite part of joining Kate, aside from the quiet. The delicacies of chocolate and cookies and muffins makes my mouth water with simply thinking of it. We step inside, the smell of fresh pastries engulfing us and I scan the cases hungrily, my stomach growling on cue.

"Princess," the man behind the counter gasps, instantly dropping. "Forgive me. I was not aware of your visit."

"Nothing to forgive," I tell him, then grin. "As long as I can receive a few of your finest pastries."

He returns my grin with a relieved one of his own. "Of course," he says. "Anything for Your Highness. Something specific you'd like?"

"Surprise me."

Kate shakes her head at me as the man disappears through a door behind him. "The only time I see you enjoy your status is when you get free pastries."

"Oh, don't be silly, Kate. I will pay this man just as any other customer would, but you are right." I nod to her. "I do enjoy the pastries."

The man comes back with a full pouch, handing it over. He is reluctant to take my payment, but I insist and he gives in. He greets Kate next, who he already knows, and the two get distracted in conversation before she can order. I continue to wander the cases and shelves, skimming good from good, smiling all the while.

There's a single window in the shop, and looking straight out from it, I can see a cherry tree. I gasp before I can stop myself. I haven't had cherry pie in ages. When I was younger, my father and I would make it all the time together. He began to grow old and weak and couldn't stand for very long, so we stopped. I had intentions of sharing the recipe with the head cook, Marco, but my time outside the castle is always limited, and I'd never found cherries.

Until now.

The man, who must be the proud owner, looks over at me. He notices what my gaze is on and smiles. "Help yourself," he says.

I do not have to be told twice.

I exit the shop with a basket he gives me, practically skipping to the back towards the tree. The cherries are small yet a dark, ripe red. I pick them one by one, examining them before I place them in the basket. Father always said the plumper the fruit, the juicier. The cherries had to be perfect to create the perfect pie, he'd say.

A stick snaps to my right, instantly catching my attention. Emerging from the wooded area is a man with an armful of firewood, so much that he can barely see over the pile. He sets the stack of wood against the bakery, then stands upright and wipes his hands down his pants. This is when I gasp again.

It is the outlaw.

My intake of breath had been quiet yet loud enough for him to hear. His eyebrows raise when he sees me, an amused smirk stretching across his lips whilst mine turn downwards in distaste. I should shout for Kate, but for some reason I don't.

"Princess," he says, and swoops into what feels like a mocking bow. Always mocking me. "I must admit, I did not expect to see you here. Stealing fruit, especially."

My eyes widen. "Of course not! I was granted permission to--"

"A jest, Your Highness." His smirk is relentless.

I huff, sliding the basket further up my arm. "What is your business here?"

He shrugs. "I work here."

"Preposterous."

"Oh?"

"You are an outlaw, a criminal. No wise man would hire someone with such a high price hanging on his head."

He licks his lips, shrugs again. "Well, I suppose you are right. No wise man would, however, my uncle is not so wise." He takes a step closer and my feet feel stuck in the grass. "Also, you may call me Harry as opposed to 'outlaw' or 'criminal.' It sounds much nicer."

"I shall call you whatever I wish," I snap, narrowing my eyes. "You have a lot of nerve speaking to me in such a way."

His smile softens and my confusion increases. "Perhaps you're right. My apologies, Princess."

I stare at him, trying to depict what is so familiar and why he is so unbothered. Why he acts as if we are friends. Perhaps it is merely his attitude towards everyone yet it feels different than that. I can't quite pinpoint why this is so.

I tighten my grip on the basket. "I am reporting you to authorities," I say casually as I begin to walk away.

"I don't think you want to," he calls after me.

"Is that your way of begging my pardon?" I glance over my shoulder at him just as a small voice comes from behind both of us.

"Harry! Harry! Look! I caught my first rabbit!" A boy no more than eight years of age comes sprinting towards him, his prey in hand. He skids to a stop when his eyes find me. His bright eyes bulge. "Princess Annaliese," he breathes in disbelief.

Harry purses his lips, his amusement gone when he meets my gaze. "This is Ace, Princess. He is under my care. My uncle is sick and can hardly run the bakery alone."

He says little in front of the boy, but it is enough for me. If I were to turn Harry in, his uncle would be unable to care for both Ace and his place of business. Now, I do consider the idea that this could be a lie to save himself, but Ace curls into Harry like it's an instinct. I look back and forth between the two, studying closely.

Then the uncle pops his head out of the backdoor. I see his cane for the first time. "Princess, Kate is departing and waiting for you."

I swallow my pride like a piece of beef lodged in my throat. I clench my jaw, nod to the uncle, then to Harry, smile at Ace, and take my leave.

I say nothing to Kate of my second encounter with the outlaw.