Chapter 24 - King Cinderella: Two Hearts Entwined in Sin

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Chapter 24

 

 

Having seized Chalon and mounted his beloved horse Aston, Erald galloped into the forest. He couldn't return to the lakeside villa or even his own home. Evading the pursuing guards, he set his course for the border of the neighboring kingdom, Auden.

 

Yes, it pained him to leave behind the estate, the books filled with his late mother's spirit, the walls that held their memories—all of it would now fall into the hands of his hateful stepmother and her ambitious son. But if losing it all was the price for finding and holding onto Chalon... then so be it.

 

Looking back, he realized something about the gold coins they had counted the previous night. There were too many—more than could ever be earned by selling off clothes and perfume.

 

No doubt they had been handed over to his stepmother and stepbrother by someone in the royal family, using a subordinate to deliver them.

 

Someone had uncovered Chalon's forbidden love, and while they had traced the lover's identity, rather than disgrace Chalon with scandal, they had sought instead to quietly remove the offender—perhaps the king, perhaps the crown prince, or maybe a loyal courtier. Erald no longer knew.

 

Still, the thought explained much—why his stepmother and her son, who had grown uncharacteristically quiet for fear of prosecution, suddenly acted with hostility to keep him from the masquerade ball, and why they had come into such a large sum of money.

 

The noble who brought those gold coins to our home must have cared for Prince Chalon. There was real feeling there... Maybe they intended to let it go, so long as I stayed away from the ball. But I went anyway—and in doing so, became a thief who stole the crown prince's attire, a man who dared dance with a prince, a criminal guilty of seduction. Now, even setting aside my love for Chalon, I can be lawfully executed for a different crime. My life hangs by a thread.

 

Erald intended to flee to Auden, but the border was far—too far. He knew that even if he could keep going, Aston and Chalon could not. They needed rest.

 

But they weren't prepared for travel. They had no supplies, no water or food. He had lost his mask during the escape and had no hat to shield him. His body was chilled to the bone, and so was his face and head.

 

And even if they did reach the border, somehow eluding Aschenptel's soldiers along the way, Erald knew that dressed as they were—in pristine white and silver ball attire—they would immediately raise suspicion. Best case, they'd be questioned. Worst case, mistaken for the Crown Prince and Second Prince of Aschenptel, causing an international crisis.

 

"Erald... Aston needs to rest. Please, let him stop."

 

Chalon's blond hair, flowing beneath him, swayed as he turned to look back.

 

Aston was beginning to falter, his strides growing sluggish. They had pushed too far. It was time to accept it—the flight had run its course. It had been short, and yet, somehow, endless.

 

If they pressed onward, Chalon would be drenched in dew and grow even colder.

 

Erald didn't wish to burden Aston any further. He had pushed too hard already. All that remained now was to spend what time he could with Chalon—speaking softly of love, sharing warmth while it lasted.

 

There was no longer any need to humble himself.

 

Now that he knew that parting would mean death for him, Erald had chosen to live according to his heart.

 

"Standing at the edge of death... I've never felt so free."

 

Holding the reins with one hand, Erald drew Chalon into an embrace and buried his face in his damp hair.

 

He remembered the man he had been before meeting Chalon—a living corpse.

 

That forbidden love had breathed new life into him with every secret meeting. A self he had never known had been born.

 

And now, more than ever before, he felt truly, freely alive.

 

"Don't give up yet. I am a prince of this kingdom. I'll do everything I can to save your life. First, I'll do my utmost to prove your innocence. But even if that proves impossible, there's still hope. It's not uncommon for those who evade capture for a year to be pardoned as a means of reducing the kingdom's expenses. I'll do whatever it takes to persuade Father, or even my brother, to grant you your freedom. So please, after Aston has rested a little... run. Leave me. Staying together will only weigh you down. If I return safely, the pursuit will lessen."

 

Chalon twisted in the saddle, pressing his face to Erald's shoulder.

 

The hair against Erald's jaw was cool to the touch. His forehead, too, was like ice—so different from Aston's warm body beneath them.

 

"There is no world in which I can leave you behind in a place like this."

 

"I'll be alright. I have a feeling Keith and the dogs will come find me. And even if they don't, I can follow the owls' guidance. The pursuers must be close by—so they'll find me quickly."

 

"Even so... I can't leave you. And besides, I'm not afraid to die."

 

"You should be. Your life is more precious to me than anything."

 

"Chalon..."

 

"One year from now—if you're cleared of all charges, or granted a pardon, and no longer hunted—meet me at the lakeside villa."

 

Between Erald, who wished to stay by his side until the end, and Chalon, who was willing to part now to change their fate, their white breaths mingled like mist in the cold night.

 

Even if Chalon looked like some otherworldly angel, Erald knew he was human—just like him. He had blood in his veins, lungs that breathed, a heart that beat.

 

And knowing that, Erald found himself suddenly unwilling to die.

 

He wanted to live in Chalon's world. To breathe the same air. Because wherever death might lead, Chalon wouldn't be there.

 

"So long as we live, there is still hope. Please—promise me you'll wait for that moment."

 

As he looked into Chalon's tear-brimmed eyes, Erald hesitated.

 

Even as they spoke, Aston continued to walk at a slow pace, and Chalon turned his body to face forward again.

 

He unclasped the brooch on his coat, then with a sharp motion, tore away the jeweled buttons sewn into the lapel.

 

"Erald… forgive me for wounding your pride. But I need you to live. Please… take these and sell them. Use them to escape. You have a strong body, a clever mind—I believe you'll make it."

 

Twisting around once more, Chalon offered the glittering jewels that caught and reflected the moonlight.

 

But Erald couldn't bring himself to leave Chalon behind, alone in this place, and flee by himself.

 

"Take them, please. What we share may be a love that defies God, a love full of sin… but even if punishment awaits us, even if trials come, we must endure. If we live with everything we have, never choosing death ourselves, then surely the time will come when we are forgiven. At first, I thought this love would drag us into hell… but I don't anymore. I believe now that God will allow us to find happiness in life—or peace in death."

 

Chalon's violet eyes shimmered with tears as he offered a fragile, painful smile.

 

And Erald believed him—truly believed him. He could see the depths of his heart in his gaze.

 

And within that heart was the same desire: to run, together. Not to part. Not here. Not like this. But still… Chalon was choosing to believe in the future. Choosing hope, even if it meant separation.

 

Then Erald had to make his decision, too.

 

If his life meant so much to Chalon—if it was the one thing Chalon wished to protect—then he had to live. Even if it meant crawling through the mud, shamed and hunted, he would survive.

 

"For your sake, I will endure the shame. I will use these—and I will live. I will return to you, Chalon."

 

He took the glittering tokens from Chalon's hand and brought Aston to a stop.

 

There, atop the warm saddle, he pulled Chalon close.

 

Beneath the autumn foliage, Chalon's white and silver evening attire stood out like snow that had fallen too soon, cold even to the eye. Despite the awkward posture, Chalon twisted around and clung to him, seeming to feel the same. Their arms wound around each other on instinct, rubbing their palms along each other's backs for warmth.

 

 

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