The Princess and The Criminal [ CAITVI ]

22 | Bound

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Caitlyn's POV
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"Caitlyn?"

The voice cut through the dim, oppressive air of the quiet streets like a blade, impossible to ignore. I froze, my breath catching in my chest, every instinct urging me to keep moving.

But I recognized that voice.

Jayce Talis.

He stepped into the dim light spilling from the alleyway, his tall frame unmistakable. His Piltover enforcer uniform was pristine, the polished metal gleaming against the grime of Zaun. His expression was a mix of disbelief and worry, but the determination in his eyes mirrored the man I once knew—a man who believed in justice, in progress.

"Lady Caitlyn," he said, his voice steady but laden with emotion. The formality stung—like a reminder of the title that had chained me to a life I no longer recognized.

My grip tightened around the strap of my sack, as if the weight of it might anchor me to this fragile independence I'd carved out.

"Where have you been?" he asked, his voice softening as he stepped closer. "You've been missing for weeks. The whole city is searching for you."

I straightened my posture, forcing myself to recall the rigid elegance expected of a Kiramman. Yet his presence was like a tether, pulling me back to the gilded cage I had fought so desperately to escape—a life where every word, every breath, was rehearsed and scrutinized.

"I am quite well, Lord Jayce," I said, carefully choosing each word. My voice, though polished, felt foreign on my tongue, an echo of the noble manner I once spoke within the palace walls.

Jayce's brow furrowed, his gaze sweeping over me, lingering on the cuts, the dirt, and every sign of my fall from Piltover's pristine pedestal. "This," he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with pity, "does not look like 'quite well.'"

That look. I despise it.

"Return with me to Piltover," he urged, his tone shifting to one of firm insistence. "You will be safe there. This place is no home for you—you do not belong here."

"I shall not return," I cut in, my voice the sharpness in my voice betraying my resolve. I took a step back, clutching the sack as though it might shield me from the weight of his expectations.

Jayce's frown deepened, confusion flickering in his eyes. "Lady Caitlyn, you cannot stay here. Have you any idea of the dangers that lurk in this city?"

"Well then, enlighten me," I replied, arching a brow in defiance. "If Zaun is as dangerous as you claim, why are you here, Lord Jayce?"

Jayce sighed, his hand brushing through his hair. "I'm here pursuing a lead—a fugitive who escaped Piltover the same day you disappeared." His words hung heavily, the implication clear. "But you're the princess, walking alone through the undercity. It is madness. Allow me to escort you back—"

"I cannot." My voice was firm, the conviction in my words surprising even me. "And I am quite capable of handling myself, thank you very much."

His jaw tightened, his frustration barely concealed. I could see the conflict in his gaze—the clash between his sense of duty and whatever personal loyalty he still held for me. "Lady Caitlyn, this is reckless. Running away, hiding in Zaun—it will not resolve anything."

"And what would you have me do, Lord Jayce?" I asked, my tone edged with stubbornness, though my composure remained intact. "Return to that tower, allow her to lock me away once more while Piltover continues to believe her lies? You call that justice?"