The pine needles crunch softly under my feet as I slip through the woods towards the palace. My enemy’s rooms are on the higher levels of the palace. I slowly creep past the trees and inhale the earthy scent of the pine. I try to avoid the thoughts of him. Hawke. He is so cruel I can hardly think about him without choking. I am a Princess of the Rose family. He is a Prince of the Glass family. We are enemies. We have been for hundreds of years. We hate each other. I creep round the edge of the pale blue palace and try to avoid the large glass windows. And then I see Hawke. His hard face is staring deeply at his apponent, his only brother who is a year older than him. His deep blue eyes stare expressionlessly at Corvu. Corvu stares back, his ready expression unnerving even me. His eyes flicker towards the window and I duck. I need to remember why I am here. I turn the corner of the house and start to climb the ivy that extends up the palace wall. I heave myself onto a ledge and pull open the window. I roll into the room stealthily and then straighten myself. My heart drops. I am in Hawke’s bedroom. I look around for an exit and hear a small noise outside. The door opens just as I close the door to the large closet. I look through the tiny gap in the doors. Hawke strides in and says, “Come, brother. We need to prepare for the war we are going to wage among the Roses, remember?” Corvu stays silent and I hear him mutter something about not liking conflict under his breath but Hawke doesn’t notice. I lean against the door, trying to hear more. Corvu leaves the room and closes the door softly. I lean harder to hear what he is muttering to himself. Then the door clicks. His head spins towards me and my face heats and I pick myself off of the floor. I run to the window and then I feel a hand on my arm. “Stay.” Hawke says commandingly. I pull away from him until he punches me and everything goes black.

I wake tied to his bed with ropes and ribbons. He sits on a chair next to the bed, pointing a crossbow at my heart. “Start talking.” He says. I stay silent until he gets up and pushes the cold point of the crossbow against my bare neck. I am only wearing a black top and leggings and my black hair is pulled into a high ponytail. I breathe faster and he says, “You should be glad you aren’t already dead.” He pushes the crossbow harder into my neck and I try to raise my hand to cover the bruise it is resting on. My hands, being tied, don’t move. Hawke lowers the crossbow and touches the bruise softly. “Get off of me!” I say. He stops and seems to realise what he was doing. Yet he reaches and tucks my hair behind my ear. His brown hair curls in perfect loops and his eyes flutter. I hate him so much. His lips are the perfect colour of roses and his deep blue eyes seem to go on forever. I feel guilty for looking at him like this. I hate myself for how I feel. Yet I keep doing it. He closes in on me, his hot breath warming my neck. Our ancestors have been enemies for hundreds of years. Yet I love this. I hate this but I love this. He drops the crossbow softly on the carpeted floor and leans into me. He kisses my neck softly. He swiftly cuts the ropes that tie me to the bed and then I lean into him, letting him kiss my neck over and over.

I leave with a red face. I told him where we should meet tomorrow night. My lips are swollen from kissing. I loved it. He is perfect. Enemies become lovers. Tomorrow night can’t come fast enough.