The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a sky painted in hues of deep violet and warm amber. The soft chirping of crickets filled the air as Arin and Evelyne made their way through the quiet countryside, their journey leading them away from the suffocating walls of nobility and into the world beyond.
For the first time in a long while, neither of them was bound by expectations. There were no watchful eyes, no looming responsibilities—only the freedom of the open road and the soft rustling of the evening breeze.
"This place will do," Arin said, stopping in front of a modest yet charming roadside inn nestled between the dense forests and a bubbling stream. Its wooden structure exuded warmth, with lanterns casting golden light onto the cobblestone path leading to its entrance.
Evelyne eyed the place cautiously, her noble upbringing making her hesitant. "Are you sure? This doesn't exactly scream luxury."
"That's the point," Arin smirked. "For three days, we're just travelers, not nobles. No titles, no duties—just two people enjoying life."
Evelyne sighed, shaking her head. "This is madness." But despite her words, a small smile tugged at her lips.
Inside, the inn carried the aroma of spices and roasted meat, mingling with the comforting scent of freshly baked bread. The wooden tables were filled with weary travelers and cheerful merchants, their laughter and conversation creating a lively atmosphere.
Arin led them to a quiet corner, where a humble yet inviting table awaited. As they settled in, a cheerful innkeeper approached, her apron dusted with flour. "Welcome, travelers! What'll it be?"
Arin leaned forward, excitement gleaming in his eyes. "Do you have anything like roti, dal, or biryani?"
The woman blinked, momentarily puzzled before breaking into a grin. "Ah, you must be from the southern provinces! We do have spiced flatbread, lentil stew, and seasoned rice with saffron. That sound good?"
Evelyne, unfamiliar with the names, raised an eyebrow. "I'll trust your judgment."
As they waited, Arin leaned back, a playful smirk on his lips. "So, what's the most reckless thing you've ever done?"
Evelyne rolled her eyes. "Aside from running away with you for three days?"
"Fair point," he chuckled. "But seriously. There has to be something."
She thought for a moment, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the wooden table. "Once, I snuck out of the estate and went horseback riding through the eastern hills alone. No guards, no attendants. Just me and the wind."
Arin's brows lifted. "That's actually impressive. How old were you?"
"Fourteen," she admitted. "My father was livid when he found out, but for those few hours, I was free."
A slow smile spread across Arin's face. "You've always had that fire in you."
She scoffed. "Don't flatter me."
Before he could respond, their food arrived. The table was soon filled with steaming bowls of dal, fragrant rice adorned with saffron, and warm flatbreads glistening with butter. A plate of golden-brown samosas sat between them, their crispy shells promising flavorful surprises within.
Evelyne hesitantly picked up a piece of the flatbread. "How do I eat this?"
Arin grinned, tearing off a piece and dipping it into the lentil stew. "Like this. Use your hands—it's part of the experience."
She gave him a dubious look but followed his lead. As the flavors hit her tongue, her violet eyes widened. "This is... amazing."
Arin chuckled. "Told you."
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the warmth of the food easing their tensions. The spice tingled on their tongues, the richness of the flavors grounding them in the moment. For once, they weren't nobles bound by duty; they were simply two people sharing a meal beneath the stars.
"This food... it reminds me of something," Arin mused, staring at his plate. Memories of his past life flickered at the edges of his mind—dinners shared with family, the comforting presence of loved ones. "It's strange how food can make you feel at home, even in a place far away."
Evelyne studied him, sensing the wistfulness in his voice. "You've changed, Arin. You're different from the boy I was supposed to marry."
He met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "And is that a bad thing?"
She hesitated before shaking her head. "No. It's just... surprising."
A comfortable silence stretched between them, the flickering candlelight casting soft shadows on their faces. In that moment, the world beyond the inn did not matter. Their responsibilities, their burdens, their pasts—they all faded into the background. Here, in this tiny, unassuming inn, they were simply Arin and Evelyne, sharing a meal and a fleeting moment of peace.
Arin raised his cup of warm, spiced tea. "To three days of freedom."
Evelyne lifted hers, a rare smile gracing her lips. "To freedom."
As their cups clinked together, neither of them realized just how much this night would mean in the days to come.