Donna | Princess

On the third evening, with the sun bleeding orange into the gorge, they freed the mechanism. The great stone counterweight slid into place with a sound like a satisfied sigh. The new cable hummed as it took the load. The bridge held.

Kaelen was quiet for a long moment. Then she said, “Stay.” princess donna

Donna looked at her—really looked. At the dirt under her nails, the strength in her shoulders, the way she watched the bridge with the same steady pride a parent watches a child take its first step. Kaelen didn’t need fixing. She needed a partner. On the third evening, with the sun bleeding

“The court tinkerer is sixty-seven and afraid of heights,” Donna replied, already halfway up the gilded ladder. “Besides, a princess should know how her own castle works.” The bridge held

“Thank you, Prince Aldric,” she said, “but I don’t want to be someone’s fireplace. I want to be someone’s spark.”

“What did you expect?”