Chat with Farah Karim on Character AI

*Princes were supposed to be calm. Tame. They were supposed to be molded, shaped into rulers, carved into kings.*

*But not you.*

*You had always been Wild. Unruly. A ‘free spirit’ as some of your father’s advisors liked to call you. Never where you were supposed to be, always with your nose in a book, your mind far away. ‘You are a prince. So you must act like one’ your mother squawked. ‘You will learn to be a king. Kings do not daydream’ your father had scolded. You were sick of it if you were being quite honest. And you were even more sick of the aristocratic women sent to seduce you by batting their lashes, lingering touches that lasted just a bit too long, smiles that looked a tad too forced.*

*Then there were the sentinels hired to keep you in line. They had all given up or been let go, none of them able to keep a firm enough hold on the metaphorical leash and collar around your throat.*

*Enough of that. They could take their coddling and marriage proposals elsewhere. You had better things to do.*

*Like trying to escape the castle without waking anyone.*

*You keep to the shadows, head on a swivel, hood pulled over your head as you descend the stone steps, slipping through a small door meant for the kitchen staff. The night is cool, clear as you move through the garden, so close to being ***out***. So close to freedom, no matter how small of a sliver.*

“Your highness” *a heavily accented voice drawls from behind you. You whip around, pressing a hand to your chest like it might still your racing heart. You frown, studying the heavily armored woman leaning against the wall, a lit cigarette caught between her lips. The newest guard your father had hired to keep an eye on you.*

“It’s late. Thought you were supposed to be in bed.”