Kit Connor wasn't new to trouble. A lifetime of theft had taught him the art of slipping in and out of places unnoticed, but tonight, he'd miscalculated. The castle he'd planned to rob was heavily guarded, and alarms were raised the moment his fingers brushed the golden trinket he'd been aiming for. Now, he was running—heart pounding, boots striking the forest floor with every frantic step.
The guards were relentless, their voices booming behind him, accompanied by the sound of horses' hooves and snapping branches. Desperation clawed at him as he sprinted deeper into the forest, his chest heaving. Then, through the moonlit haze, he saw it—a tower. Hidden by thick foliage, it stood alone, tall and majestic, with a stream glimmering nearby and wildflowers painting the ground in bursts of color.
But the tower exuded something else, something darker. A foreboding aura seemed to ripple around it like an invisible veil. Kit hesitated for a moment, a shiver running down his spine. The shouts of the guards grew louder, breaking his thoughts. With no other option, he scrambled toward the tower and began climbing.
Hand over hand, he hauled himself upward, ignoring the scratches from thorny vines. At the top, a small, open window welcomed him. He swung himself inside and landed silently on the wooden floor.
The interior was serene yet surreal, with books scattered across the room, jars of herbs lining the shelves, and the faint scent of lavender and something unplaceable in the air. In the center of the room, on a simple bed draped with soft blankets, lay a girl.
Kit froze. She was beautiful in a way that stunned him. Her short brown bobbed hair, intertwined with tiny braids, framed her face perfectly. Her glasses rested neatly on the nightstand, and the soft moonlight kissed her features with a gentle glow. Kit couldn't look away. His heart, which had been pounding moments ago from the chase, now seemed to skip entirely.
He crept closer, his movements slow and careful. Unable to stop himself, he reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek. Her skin was warm and smooth, and for a moment, Kit forgot the danger he'd just escaped.
Her eyes shot open.
The girl gasped, startled, and Kit stumbled back, his hands shooting up in surrender. Before he could utter a word, she reached for something beside her—a frying pan. Without hesitation, she swung.
Kit barely managed a choked "Wait—" before the pan collided with his head. His world spun as pain blossomed, and he collapsed onto the floor.
When Kit came to, his head throbbed, and his arms were bound tightly to a wooden chair. Blinking, he squinted at the blurry figure before him. The girl had donned her glasses now, and she was staring at him with wide, curious eyes. A small chameleon perched on her shoulder, its tongue flicking out as if sizing Kit up.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice firm but laced with nervousness. She clutched the frying pan in one hand, ready to strike again if needed.
Kit groaned, trying to adjust his position. "Easy with the pan, love. I'm not going to hurt you."
Her brows furrowed. "You climbed into my tower in the middle of the night. That's not exactly reassuring."
"I was running from guards. Long story. Bad night." He offered a lopsided smile, hoping to disarm her. "I didn't mean to scare you."
She tilted her head, studying him. In the dim light, she took in the details of his face—the ginger hair that stuck up in unruly spikes, his soft freckles scattered like stars across his cheeks and nose, and the mischievous glint in his green eyes, despite his predicament.
For a moment, she forgot her fear. He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful person she'd ever seen.
But she quickly snapped herself out of it, gripping the frying pan tighter. "That doesn't explain why you touched my face."
Kit winced, guilt flickering across his features. "I... uh... That was out of line. I'm sorry. You just looked—" He stopped himself, realizing that telling her she looked enchanting while she held a frying pan probably wasn't wise.
She crossed her arms, the chameleon crawling onto her other shoulder. "You have some nerve."
"And you have a solid arm," Kit quipped, testing the ropes around his wrists. "Can we call it even?"
The girl sighed, unsure of what to do with him. He didn't seem dangerous, and his charm was disarming, but he was still a stranger who had broken into her sanctuary. "You're staying tied up until I decide what to do with you," she said firmly.
"Fair enough," Kit said with a sheepish grin. "Though, if I might say, this is not how I imagined spending my night."
Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile. Almost. She turned away, muttering something to the chameleon, who seemed to nod in agreement.
Kit leaned back in the chair, despite the ropes digging into his wrists, and watched her. He'd been in countless tight spots before, but this was different. For the first time, he wasn't thinking about escape. Instead, he found himself wondering who this girl was and how he'd managed to stumble upon her hidden world.
