I grabbed Maxwell's arm and tugged him toward the brightly colored tent, its entrance framed with shimmering beads and soft fairy lights. The sign above read Madame Esmé's Mystical Tarot Readings in elegant gold script.

"No way," Maxwell groaned, trying to pull back. "I don't do mystic nonsense."

"Oh, please," I said, grinning as I pulled him harder. "Scared of a little card reading? Or only when ghosts come for you?"

He rolled his eyes but didn't resist much longer. I practically dragged him inside.

The tent was dim, filled with the scent of sandalwood and something faintly metallic - like old secrets hiding beneath layers of incense smoke. Madame Esmé sat behind a low round table, her silver-streaked hair tumbling over a robe that shimmered like moonlight. Her eyes gleamed - sharp and knowing.

"Welcome, travelers," she said, voice soft but commanding. "The cards never lie. Sit, and let me reveal what fate has in store."

Maxwell slumped into the plush velvet chair, giving me a sideways glance that clearly said help me. I sat opposite him, trying not to smile too much.

Esmé shuffled the deck with a practiced elegance, her fingers moving like a dance. Then she laid out the cards for Maxwell - five in a neat row.

The first card was The Tower - a lightning-struck spire crumbling into chaos. "Ah," Esmé murmured, "a card of upheaval, sudden change. It shows a breaking down of old beliefs, a moment of truth so sharp it shakes the soul."

Maxwell smirked. "Sounds about right."

The second card was The Devil - a figure chained but smiling slyly. "Temptation," Esmé said. "Dark desires and the struggle to break free from binds unseen."

Maxwell glanced at me, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'm feeling judged."

The third card was The Fool - a figure stepping boldly off a cliff. "Risk," she said, voice softer now. "The courage to leap into the unknown, blind faith as both a curse and a blessing."

The fourth card was The Moon - glowing silver over a dark path. "Deception, illusions, and the unknown. Beware what shadows may hide."

Finally, Esmé laid down the last card - The Lovers. "A crossroads of the heart," she whispered. "Choices that bind two fates, often torn between chaos and desire."

Her gaze flicked between Maxwell and me, sharp as a blade. "Your path is stormy, boy, caught between temptation and truth, fear and passion. The cards warn you: your heart will be tested."

Maxwell chuckled, looking at me. "Seems like someone's been reading the royal gossip."

I rolled my eyes, but Madame Esmé didn't pause.

"Now, you young lady," she said, shuffling the deck again with a practiced flick, "let us see your truth."

Five cards again, laid out slowly like a ritual.

The first card was Strength - a woman calmly taming a lion. "Courage," Esmé said. "Not the absence of fear, but the mastery of it. A fierce spirit hidden beneath a calm surface."

I glanced at Maxwell, who was watching me with a quiet intensity.

The second card was The Hermit - a lone figure holding a lantern in darkness. "A seeker of wisdom, one who walks alone to find their truth."

"Sounds about right," I said quietly.

The third card was Justice - a woman blindfolded, holding scales. "Balance, fairness, and truth. A call to face consequences without fear or favor."

The fourth card was The Star - shining brightly over dark waters. "Hope," Esmé said softly. "Guidance through the night, a promise of healing and renewal."

Finally, the last card was The Moon - the same card Maxwell had. "Illusion and mystery," she whispered. "A reminder to trust your intuition, but beware what your heart might hide."

She folded her hands gently. "Two souls linked by shadows and light. One fights chaos; the other seeks truth. Both bound by a love neither fully understands."

Maxwell's eyes flicked to mine, and I felt that electric pull again - that terrible, thrilling tension between us.

He smirked, breaking the silence. "So, Madame Esmé says we're basically a mess."

I laughed, shaking my head. "A royal disaster, more like."

Esmé smiled mysteriously we didn't say who we were but she knows somehow. "Disasters often make the most unforgettable stories."

Maxwell reached out, brushing a stray wet strand of hair behind my ear. "Maybe we're not so different after all."

I caught my breath, knowing tonight's game had just gotten a lot more real.

Esmé's eyes glinted as she shuffled the deck once more, her fingers deft and sure. "Now," she said, voice low and conspiratorial, "let us see what the cards say about you two... together."

I blinked, exchanging a glance with Maxwell. "We're not-" I started, but Esmé cut me off with a knowing smile.

"Oh, I know you say you're not a couple. But the universe sees what you do not. The cards never lie."

Maxwell leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "Well, then, Madame, let's hear what our not-a-couple fate looks like."

Esmé spread the cards between us and began drawing three, placing them side by side.

The first card was The Two of Cups - two hands reaching across a shimmering pool, their fingers almost touching.

"Connection," Esmé whispered. "A meeting of souls, balance, and mutual attraction. A bond that neither time nor circumstance can easily break."

I felt my heart skip, while Maxwell's jaw tightened just a little.

The second card was The Chariot - a figure riding confidently, reins in hand, determination in their eyes.

"Drive and passion," Esmé continued. "Together, you face challenges head-on, someone might get in your way, moving forward despite obstacles. But be mindful - steering requires trust and cooperation."

Maxwell's lips twitched as he murmured in his breath to himself "Frederick"

The third card was The Moon - again, the card of mystery and shadow.

"The Moon appears again," Esmé said softly, "because your journey together is shrouded in secrets, doubt, and unspoken feelings. The path isn't clear, but there is something undeniable pulling you forward."

I swallowed, caught in the truth between her words. "You're making this sound like a soap opera."

Esmé chuckled. "Life with royals is always a soap opera, my dear."

Maxwell's hand brushed mine on the table. I froze, heart pounding.

"See?" Esmé smiled knowingly. "Even silence speaks volumes."

I tried to pull my hand away, but he held on just a second longer.

Esmé's eyes darkened, flickering with an eerie light as she reached for another card, sliding it gently to the center of the table.

"This one," she said, voice dropping to a whisper, "is the past that clings to the present. The Six of Cups."

I frowned. "What does that mean?"

She leaned in closer, her gaze locking onto ours like a secret shared between shadows. "The Six of Cups speaks of memories - childhood, innocence, and connections that stretch beyond this lifetime. It suggests that your souls have danced together before. In another life, perhaps in a simpler time, or a harder one. There's a history here, tangled and deep."

Maxwell's eyes flicked to mine, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us. "You're saying we're... connected across time?"

Esmé nodded slowly, fingers resting lightly on the card. "Not just connected. Bound. The threads of your past lives weave through this one, influencing your feelings, your fights, your pull toward each other. Sometimes, souls meet again to heal old wounds or to finish stories left undone from past lives but also this one."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding with a mix of disbelief and strange comfort. "So all this..." I gestured between us, "is fate?"

"Not fate," Esmé corrected gently. "Choice. The cards show the possibilities, but you two hold the power to decide your story. The past may have set the stage, but the present is yours to write."

Maxwell's fingers tightened just a bit on my hand.

I dared a shaky smile, caught in the weight of her words and the electricity humming between us.

Esmé reached for the final card with a slow, deliberate motion, as if unveiling the climax of a long-awaited story. She turned it over, revealing The Lovers - a pair entwined beneath a blazing sun, their faces serene yet fierce, bound by both choice and destiny.

Her voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "The Lovers - the most powerful card of union and passion. It speaks of not just attraction, but a bond forged in fire. A connection that challenges you, that demands honesty, sacrifice, and courage. This card says your relationship will test you, break you, and remake you - all at once."

I felt the heat of her words settle over us, and when I glanced at Maxwell, I saw that same fire mirrored in his eyes. It wasn't just teasing or anger between us anymore - it was something raw and undeniable.

Esmé's gaze swept between us. "You may fight, you may push away, but the flame between you is fierce. This is a love that refuses to be ignored, no matter how many walls you build."

Maxwell's fingers curled tighter around mine, his voice low and steady, "Looks like we're in for one hell of a ride."

We sat there for a moment, the weight of Esmé's words hanging thick in the air between us. Finally, I pulled my hand free, shaking my head with a wry smile.

"Yeah, sure. The most powerful card, huh? I don't know about all that. Sounds like something out of a cheesy romance novel."

Maxwell chuckled softly, slipping his hand into his pocket but not letting go of the moment. "Maybe it is. But maybe it's not that far off either. Sometimes the hardest things are worth fighting for."

I glanced over at him, catching a flicker of something raw and honest beneath his usual guarded mask. "You really think it's that simple? That we're... meant to be or whatever?"

He shrugged, eyes searching mine like he was looking for an answer he wasn't sure he had. "I don't know what the future holds. But I know I don't want to keep pretending none of this matters."

I stood there, quiet, disbelief knotting my stomach. His words sounded so easy-too easy.

"What? Didn't you want to talk about serious stuff? Here it is," he said, grabbing my stuffed bear from my hand as we walked back toward the palace.

I froze, suddenly paralyzed. No idea what to say.

"Cat got your tongue?" He glanced back, smirking. "Come on, you better walk with me-it's dark."

"Wait." I stopped dead in the middle of the muddy path, the river's dark waters rushing beside us.

"What?" He turned around, brows knitting in concern.

"You-what is happening?" I demanded, my voice cracking under the weight of frustration... and something deeper. Something raw I didn't want to name.

Maxwell stepped closer, slow and steady, like I was a bird that might bolt. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" I echoed, sharper now. My chest rose and fell like I'd just run miles. "By this. By us. Is this just... a joke to you?" My voice wavered, the insecurity slipping through even as I tried to stay angry.

His expression shifted. "A joke?"

"Yes!" I nearly shouted. "Because it's starting to feel like one. You- You have a kingdom, a future, a throne. And I'm... I'm just someone who got thrown into the deep end of your world. What am I even doing here?"

He froze in place, jaw tightening like he was holding something back. "You really think I'm playing you?"

"I don't know!" I snapped, the words spilling faster now. "You confuse me. One day you're warm, the next you're distant. Sometimes you fight me like I'm your enemy, and then... then we're in a hallway about to kiss like the world's on fire!"

Maxwell stepped closer again, his voice low and rough. "Amy. I know I've been... inconsistent. Harsh. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I blinked, thrown off by the sudden apology.

"I blamed you for things you had nothing to do with," he went on, eyes locked to mine like he couldn't bear to look away. "I projected my mess onto you. I called you things-thought things-before I ever even tried to understand you. I was defensive, and scared, and stupid hold on to a past."

My mouth opened, but no words came.

"I hurt you," he said, voice shaking now. "I know I did. And I regret every second of it. I thought pushing you away would make it easier. But it didn't. It just made everything worse."

I shook my head, barely breathing. "I don't understand. Why now?"

"Because I see you now," he said simply. "The real you. Not some idea I made up to protect myself."

He took another step, close enough to feel his breath in the cool night air.

"You're kind," he said softly. "And smarter than everyone in that palace combined. You overthink everything, and you talk when you're nervous, and you roll your eyes at the world like it personally offended you. But you're funny, and brave, and you're also very competitive and incredibly stubborn."

I let the silence sit between us for a second longer, the river humming quietly behind us like a secret.

Then I sighed, loud and dramatic, as if that would protect me from what I was about to say. "You know what your problem is?" I muttered, pointing a finger at his chest.

Maxwell raised an eyebrow, half-smirking. "Just one?"

"You're impossible," I snapped, the words rushing out now, too fast to stop. "You're silent when you shouldn't be, but somehow manage to say exactly what I don't want to hear when I finally calm down."

He blinked. "Okay-"

"You're respectful to the point of infuriating. You hold back like it's your personal mission not to let anyone in, even when you want to. And you care. You care so much even when you act like you don't."

He stared at me, stunned into silence.

"You protect people like it's a reflex," I continued, my voice lower, but shaking now. "You hold on even when you shouldn't. You listen even when you pretend not to. You're so-stubborn, and proud, and so jealous it's almost cute."

"I'm not-"

"You are," I snapped. "You absolutely are. And don't even try to argue."

He opened his mouth to protest again, but I cut him off.

"And despite all of that-despite the fact that you drive me insane, that we argue like it's a sport, that you make me want to scream and sometimes cry-I still..." My voice cracked again, but I forced the words out like they'd been burning inside me. "I still -. Somewhere between the teasing and the fighting and the way you look at me like I matter-I fell."

Maxwell didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there, stunned, heart in his eyes.

I turned away with a laugh that sounded more like a groan. "Ugh, I hate that I like you. I really do."

He stepped forward suddenly, grabbing my hand before I could walk away.

"You think this is easy for me?" he said, voice low and unsteady. "You think I planned any of this? That I wanted to fall for someone who challenges everything I've ever been taught to be?"

I blinked, but he didn't stop.

"You make me question things I never thought I could question," he said, stepping even closer now. "You make me better, even when you're yelling at me. And yes, I'm jealous. Yes, I'm stubborn. And yes, I always think I'm right-but when it comes to you..." He looked at me like I was the only person left in the world. "I've never been so wrong and so glad about it."

The tension between us coiled like a spring, too tight, too hot.

My heart thundered. "You're insufferable."

"You're impossible."

"Shut up," I whispered.

"Gladly," he breathed.

Then it happened.

His hands moved-fast but certain-one curling gently around the side of my neck, his thumb brushing against my jaw like he'd been memorizing the shape of me in silence. That familiar rush hit me-heat and panic and want tangled together, a storm I didn't want to outrun.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this," he murmured, voice low and aching.

His other hand rose, cradling the other side of my neck, steady and reverent. And then, as if he couldn't stop himself any longer-he didn't.

Our mouths collided.

His lips crashed against mine with the kind of desperation that made my knees buckle. It was messy and maddening and completely, utterly us-furious and soft, full of unspoken apologies and impossible truths. My hands curled into his jacket, pulling him closer like I needed him to anchor me, or maybe set me completely adrift.

We were still arguing-just not with words. We were still stubborn-still terrified-but this kiss was everything we hadn't said and all the things we couldn't deny anymore. A dare. A promise. A surrender.

The palace was gone. The night, the crown, the consequences-forgotten.

Only the river remained, whispering behind us like it had always known.

But we didn't care.

Not anymore.

We weren't pretending.

Not tonight..