I Reincarnated as a Princess… But Ended Up Selling Fruit

"Let me guess," Rime said without looking up. "You ran into him again. Literally."

Lara slammed the door shut and kicked off her boots like they owed her money.

"Nope," she lied, flopping onto the couch like emotional roadkill. "Didn't run. Casually walked away. Like a sane person."

"Right. And I'm a decorative houseplant."

She grabbed a pillow and screamed into it.

Rime blinked slowly from his perch on the bookshelf, where he'd been reading a dusty old tome titled How to Avoid Prophecies and Other Magical Nuisances.

He shut the book with a loud thump. "You know you're glowing again, right?"

"Let me have this meltdown in peace."

He leapt down gracefully and padded across the room, tail flicking. "No. Because you keep flirting with a man who might be your ex, your executioner, or both, and that makes it my business."

Lara peeked over the pillow. "I didn't flirt."

"You told him you were the orchard."

"That was poetic metaphor."

"That was foreplay."

She threw the pillow at him. He dodged.

"You're not supposed to like him," Rime said. "You're supposed to evade him. You're supposed to be the master of hiding and sass. That's your whole brand."

"I don't like him!"

"You dreamed of him. Again."

"I dream about lots of things! Apples. Fire. Flying. Waking up with abs."

Rime rolled his eyes so hard his whole body swayed. "Lara."

She deflated. Just a little. "Okay. Maybe I like his... face."

"His face?"

"And his voice."

"Uh-huh."

"And the way he says my maybe-name like it's a damn prayer."

Silence.

Lara curled into a ball on the couch and groaned. "I'm doomed."

Rime jumped up beside her and flopped onto her stomach like a purring judgment machine. "Yes. But at least you'll be doomed with excellent taste."

"So," Seph said, sliding a plate of honeyed bread across the table, "who's the tall guy you keep running from?"

Lara nearly choked on her tea.

Elira didn't look up from peeling a pear. "Oh good, we're starting with violence."

"I'm just asking," Seph said innocently. "Because he was definitely sniffing around the orchard this morning. Real casual. Like he wasn't tracking magical energy or anything."

"He was what?"

Myrr looked up from her book. "We need to reinforce the outer warding. If he keeps circling, he'll find the spirit line."

"I can shift the roots," Lara offered weakly. "It'll hide the trail."

Rime, curled at the end of the table like a cursed centerpiece, yawned. "And how do you plan to hide your glowing mark, your leaking magic, and the fact that you practically moaned his name last night?"

"I didn't moan his name!"

Everyone looked at her.

"I didn't say it out loud."

Everyone kept looking.

Lara grabbed a piece of bread and shoved it into her mouth like it might erase her existence.

"Okay, fine," she mumbled through carbs. "Maybe he feels familiar. Maybe he's the guy from that night. But I don't remember enough to confirm or deny!"

"You remember enough to panic," Myrr said flatly.

"I panic about lots of things! Spiders! Taxes! Sentient cucumbers!"

"Lara," Seph said gently, "you're not just panicking. You're... glowing."

She looked down.

Her hands shimmered faintly—silver streaks dancing over her fingertips like moonlight in water.

It wasn't just her mark.

It was her.

Her magic.

Waking up.

"Shit," she whispered.

Rime sighed. "And there it is."

The orchard screamed.

Not literally—not with sound.

With pressure.

Magic.

A pulse of spirit energy tore through the roots beneath the house, rattled the windows, and sent every enchanted jar on the shelf into a wobbly panic.

Elira ducked under the table. "Are we under attack or is Lara feeling feelings again?"

"Not me!" Lara shouted. "This one wasn't me! Probably!"

Seph's eyes flashed. "That flare wasn't natural. That was a response."

"To what?" Myrr asked sharply.

Rime stood, fur bristling. "To someone crossing the ward line."

Lara's stomach dropped.

"No one can cross that without triggering the—"

The back door slammed open.

Wind howled through the treehouse. Leaves spun in a cyclone. The air shimmered with magic—thick, old, restless.

And then—silence.

Heavy.

Waiting.

Lara moved first, running to the edge of the balcony overlooking the orchard.

Her breath caught.

He was standing just past the roots. Coat flared. Glove off. Hand glowing faintly with his magic.

He had crossed the ward.

And the orchard hadn't stopped him.

Rime appeared at her side, eyes wide. "That's... not possible."

"He shouldn't be able to get past the spirit line."

"He's not supposed to be allowed."

But he was there.

Looking right at her.

Like he knew.

Like he remembered everything.

And Lara?

For one terrifying moment...

She wanted to walk down those steps.

[End of Chapter 6]