Tinkering With Fate

Prologue

(Six years earlier)

The bell above the shop door jingled, sharp and bright in the quiet afternoon air. Navira barely looked up from her work, her fingers deftly twisting a copper wire into the small gears of an intricate clock. The hum of the workshop surrounded her: the hiss of steam, the clink of metal, and the faint aroma of oil and sawdust. This was her world, a place of creation and control.

But that day, her careful balance was shattered.

The boy burst in like a whirlwind, slamming the door shut behind him and pressing his back against it. His dark hair stuck to his forehead, his chest heaving as though he'd run for miles. His clothes—far too fine for someone who looked so frantic—were streaked with dirt.

"Please," he gasped, his piercing gray eyes locking onto hers. "Don't tell anyone I'm here."

Navira froze, the clock gears slipping from her fingers. He couldn't have been much older than her, maybe twelve, but his commanding presence made him seem far older. Something about him tugged at her memory, though she couldn't place it.

"Are you in trouble?" she asked cautiously, wiping her hands on her apron.

His gaze darted to the window, where the sound of distant voices floated through the open street. "You could say that. Just... hide me. Please!"

Against her better judgment, Navira nodded. She gestured toward the back of the shop, where shelves of half-finished gadgets and tools provided ample cover. He darted behind them without another word, crouching low just as the heavy stomp of boots echoed outside.

Moments later, the door burst open again, this time revealing two castle guards. Their polished armor gleamed, and their sharp eyes scanned the room.

"Girl," one barked, his voice gruff. "Have you seen a boy come through here? About this tall, dark hair, dressed well?"

Navira's heart pounded. She felt the boy's hidden presence like a weight pressing against her back.

"No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "No one's come in all day."

The guard narrowed his eyes, his suspicion palpable. He stepped closer, his boots clinking against the wooden floor. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, her father appeared from the workroom, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Is there a problem, officers?" her father asked, his tone polite but firm.

The guards hesitated, clearly not eager to tangle with the tinker. After a tense moment, they grunted their thanks and left, the door slamming shut behind them.

The boy emerged from his hiding spot, brushing dust off his fine clothes. "Thank you," he said, his tone stiff but sincere.

Navira crossed her arms. "You're lucky they didn't find you. Who are you, anyway?"

For a moment, he hesitated, as if debating whether to tell her the truth. Then he straightened, his chin lifting in defiance. "I'm Callen. Prince Callen."

Navira's breath caught. That was why he'd seemed familiar—his face had been painted on every banner and coin in the kingdom. A prince. An actual prince had just begged her for help.

"What's a prince doing running away from the castle?" she asked, incredulous.

His lips pressed into a thin line. "That's none of your concern."

She rolled her eyes. Typical royal arrogance. But before she could retort, he softened slightly. "I just... I needed to get away. Even if it was only for a day."

Something in his voice—a loneliness she hadn't expected—made her pause. She nodded, her frustration fading. "Well, you've got your wish. But you should probably go before they come back."

Callen's lips curved into a faint, almost boyish smile. "You're not as annoying as I thought you'd be."

Navira bristled, but before she could respond, the door opened again. This time, the guards moved quickly, seizing Callen by the arms.

"Found you, your Highness," one of them grunted, his tone lacking any real deference.

As they dragged him out, Callen turned back to her, his gray eyes catching hers one last time. "Thanks, Tinker's Daughter."

And then he was gone.

That night, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, she whispered a wish into the quiet.

"I wish we could meet again someday," she murmured, her cheeks flushing as she thought of his smile. "And maybe then, we'd actually like each other."

But when her wish came true, years later, it wasn't at all what she'd imagined.

Navira stood before the grand doors of the palace, her heart hammering in her chest. She had been summoned—ordered, really—to marry the same boy she'd once wished for. But as the doors swung open, revealing the now-grown Prince Callen sitting on his throne, her heart sank.

The boy she'd met at twelve was gone. In his place was a man with cold, sharp eyes and a sneer that could cut through steel.

"So," he drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. "This is the girl I'm supposed to marry? The Tinker's Daughter?"

She clenched her fists, her magic sparking faintly beneath her skin.

This wasn't the reunion she'd hoped for