The Princess and The Criminal [ CAITVI ]

5 | The Old Tavern

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Caitlyn's POV
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"So? We climbing out, or are we staying here and exchanging pleasantries?"

I glanced at the narrow ledge. The valley stretched out below, a dizzying drop that made my stomach flip. My foot tapped the edge of the frame, testing its slick surface, but I hesitated.

"I'm thinking," I muttered.

"You're stalling," Vi countered, stepping beside me. Her voice dropped lower, closer. "Don't tell me you're afraid of heights."

"I'm not." My words came fast—too fast—and she caught it instantly.

"Sure you're not." Vi's hand brushed against the window frame as she leaned in, her face just close enough for me to catch the faintest shadow of a smirk. "Need me to hold your hand?"

The space between us felt too small, her presence overwhelming in a way I couldn't explain. She didn't back away, and I hated how steady she was—how calm, how unshaken.

"I've already gone over this. I can handle myself," I argued, narrowing my eyes.

"Could've fooled me." Her grin widened, sharp and wolfish.

I bit the inside of my cheek and forced myself to step closer to the window. The stone was slick beneath my fingers, damp from the misty air outside. I tested the ledge with my boot, and for a moment, it felt steady—until it didn't. My foot slipped, the world tilting as panic rushed through me in a hot wave, but then—

A jolt.

Vi's hand shot out, closing around my wrist with a tight grip.

I gasped, my heart hammering, eyes locked on the dizzying drop. The world seemed so far away, but her grip was a steady anchor, pulling me back from the edge.

I blinked, disoriented, and found myself looking up at her. She was close—closer than I expected—and her face softened for the briefest moment. Not the usual mockery or cold detachment. Something almost like...

Concern?

No, that couldn't be right. She didn't care about me. She made it clear enough: I was just leverage to her, someone she barely knew. She was only helping me because it suited her. But even so, I swore I saw something flicker in her eyes.

"Careful," Vi said, her voice unexpectedly low, surprisingly gentle. But she didn't let go right away. Her hands stayed wrapped around me, secure and steady—like a safety net. Not that I needed it, but the way she held me with no rush to let go, stirred something deep in my chest.

Her hands were rough—calloused from years of fighting—and I could feel the veins that ran just beneath her skin.

"I had it under control." I said, more sharply than I intended. My voice was hoarse from the shock.

Uh-huh," she muttered, eyes flicking between me and the ledge again. Her lips curled up just enough to show that she was enjoying this. "Good thing I was here, huh?"

I could feel the flush creeping up my neck, and I hated it. She seemed to take some kind of twisted pleasure in my frustration—

of course she did.

I pulled my wrist from her grasp, the loss of contact leaving my skin cold. "Just, don't watch."

To my surprise, she didn't argue this time. stepping back with an almost exaggerated sweep of her arms. But I could feel her eyes on me, sharp and unyielding, watching every movement. There was something in the way she was looking at me, not mockingly, but quietly observant, almost... intrigued. It made my chest tighten, I wasn't used to feeling this exposed.