Chapter 8 The Apology

The palace car wove through Klbas City's moonlit streets, a sleek black shadow gliding from the grandeur of marble-lined avenues to the quiet, unassuming lanes of Mia's neighborhood. It was a journey across the world. Lights cast soft glows over cobblestone paths where hibiscus and jasmine bloomed in modest gardens, their sweet, honest fragrance a stark contrast to the palace's sterile opulence.

Inside, the silence was a living thing. Tarkan sat rigid, his bronze skin taut under the faint dashboard light, feeling less like a prince and more like an invader. His dark hair was tousled from running his hands through it, and his deep brown eyes were fixed on the unfamiliar road ahead. He was a man forged by duty, yet tonight he was a boy driven by guilt. Beside him, Princess Myar clutched her emerald shawl, her own bronze complexion pale with worry, her face torn between regret for her part in the disaster and a fierce hope for its resolution.

"Tarkan, what are we even going to say?" Myar finally spoke, her voice a low whisper. "Mia must be heartbroken, and Sofia... she'll be furious. Rightfully so."

Tarkan's jaw tightened. "I will apologize, Myar. For my mother's cruelty, for my own irresponsibility. I cannot let Mia believe for one second that I meant to hurt her." He paused, his voice softening, the memory replaying in his mind. "She was so beautiful tonight, wasn't she? That crimson gown, her eyes... I keep seeing her face when my mother spoke, the way she trembled."

Myar nodded, her eyes glistening in the passing lights. "Tarkan. Remember when we were thirteen, and she twisted her ankle climbing that old oak tree by the stables? She tried so hard to hide it, to not be a bother. You were the one who carried her back, and I snuck her a honeyed fig from the kitchens. She has always been brave, but she is not invincible."

A faint, sad smile touched Tarkan's lips. "I was her knight those days. I need to be that for her as well."

The car slowed, its engine a soft hum in the silent night, stopping a few houses down from Mia's. "We walk from here," Myar whispered. "The car is too noticeable."

Tarkan nodded, his throat tight. They stepped out into the cool Klbasian air, thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine the scent of Mia's world, so different from his gilded cage. Ramzi remained in the driver's seat, a silent, disapproving statue, while Karim, the grizzled Klbasian driver, leaned out.

"Be quick, Your Highnesses," Karim said, his voice a low rumble, his bronze face stern. "The city is awake and whispering about the ball. Trouble follows crowns, and you've brought yours to a quiet street."

"Understood," Tarkan said, his gaze meeting Karim's. "Keep the engine ready."

Karim nodded. "For you, sir, I will keep it quiet. But hurry. This is not a place to linger."

Tarkan and Myar approached the small, welcoming house. Its whitewashed walls were aglow under a single porch lantern, with potted oleanders standing like sentinels. The sweet scent of jasmine enveloped them, a fragile balm against Tarkan's racing heart. All the fierce courage he possessed within the palace walls seemed to dissolve at her doorstep. He was no longer a prince; he was just a man, full of regret. Sensing his hesitation, Myar lifted a trembling hand and knocked softly, a hesitant request for entry into a world not their own.

Inside, Mia stood in the small fortress of her room. She had shed the crimson gown, leaving it in a heap on the floor, a painful reminder of her folly. Now, in a worn gray sweater and soft trousers, her blond hair hanging loose, she was trying to erase the girl from the palace. Her blue eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, stared at her reflection. Her beauty, once a quiet strength, felt like a trap tonight, one that had lured Tarkan's love and the Queen's scorn in equal measure. A floorboard creaked in the living room, and her mother's voice called out, "Mia, come here, please."

Mia wiped her eyes and stepped into the cozy room, where a Klbasian tapestry of crimson falcons ,an ironic echo of the palace, hung above a worn sofa. Sofia stood by the door, her graying hair pulled back, her face etched with a mother's worry.

"You're still crying," Sofia said, her voice soft but firm. "Tell me again. Was it just the Queen, or did the prince push you into this?"

Mia's sapphire eyes glistened. "It was both, Mama. Tarkan... he kissed me. He said he's never stopped caring. But the Queen... she called me a trespasser. She said I would cost you everything." The words caught in her throat. "I told him it was over, but it hurts so much."

Sofia's face softened, her hand cool and steady as she cupped Mia's cheek. "You carry a beauty that is too bright for their world of shadows, my love. Those eyes, that golden hair, that fierce heart. They draw him in, but they will break you. I should have kept you away from that palace years ago."

Before Mia could reply, the soft, hesitant knock sounded at the door.

Sofia's expression hardened instantly. She moved to the door, her body stiffening, becoming a human shield. She opened it to reveal Tarkan and Myar, their royal faces pale under her porch light.

"Your Highnesses," Sofia said, her voice level, dangerous, and stripped of all its former warmth. "This is beyond inappropriate."

Tarkan stepped forward, his own princely armor gone, his bronze skin flushed, his dark eyes raw with undisguised pain. He bowed his head slightly. "Mrs. Ritchard Sofia, please. We are not here as royals. We are here as Mia's oldest friends. I... I need to apologize."

Sofia's gaze was unyielding, the quiet, unshakeable power of a mother defending her child. "An apology, Your Highness, will not erase the humiliation your mother inflicted on my daughter tonight. Mia has been sobbing in her room, her future at risk because of your family's games."

Tarkan's voice was a raw rasp. "I know. I know it won't undo the damage. But I had to come. I had to tell you both how deeply sorry I am for my mother's cruelty. It was unjust and unforgivable. I never, ever meant for Mia to be hurt."

Myar's face crumpled, her voice pleading. "It's my fault, too, Sofia. I'm the one who invited her. I thought I could help them talk. I was so wrong, and I am so, so sorry."

Sofia's stern expression flickered. The raw, stripped-down honesty from both of them had pierced her armor. Just then, a floorboard creaked, and Mia appeared in the doorway behind her mother. Her blond hair was disheveled, her blue eyes puffy and fragile. In her simple sweater, she looked impossibly young and vulnerable, yet her beauty still shone through, a quiet, wounded radiance that stole Tarkan's breath. His chest physically ached at the sight of what he had done.

"Mia," he breathed, her name a sacred, broken thing.

She flinched, her voice hoarse. "You shouldn't be here, Tarkan. Your presence only makes things worse."

He took a half-step forward, halted by Sofia's protective glare. "I'm sorry," he said, his own voice breaking. "Myar invited you because I begged her to. All I wanted was to understand why you never wrote. This entire disaster... it is my fault, Mia. I never wanted this for you. I never wanted you to hurt."

Mia's sapphire eyes searched for his, finding no trace of the tabloid prince, only the earnest, pained boy from their library kingdom.

"I pushed, too, Mia," Myar added, tears glistening in her eyes. "I thought I was fixing things, but I just broke them more. You'll always be my sister. Please, forgive me."

Sofia watched her daughter, seeing the storm of indecision in her gaze. Her protective anger finally softened into a weary sadness for these three young souls, caught in a game for older than they were.

"There is nothing more to be said tonight," she announced, her tone gentle but final. She was speaking not to a prince, but to a young man who had wounded her child. "You have made your apology, Your Highness. Now go, before your presence costs my daughter more than just tears."

Tarkan's gaze lingered on Mia, a silent, heavy exchange of unspoken questions and fresh pain. He wanted to promise her the world, to vow protection, but he saw the wisdom in Sofia's words. He had come to ease Mia's burden, not add the false weight of promises he didn't yet know how to keep.

"Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "for hearing me."

He and Myar turned, their footsteps soft on the garden path, the scent of jasmine trailing them into the darkness. Mia watched from the doorway, her hand pressed to her heart, her blond hair glowing like a halo under the lantern light. The apology hadn't mended the fracture between them. It had done something far more dangerous. It had stirred a hope she thought she had buried. Tarkan hadn't demanded or commanded; he had offered regret, raw and real. And that, she realized with a fresh wave of dread, was infinitely harder to fight than his kiss.

Inside, Sofia closed and locked the door, her face softening as she turned to Mia. "They're gone, my love. Are you alright?"

Mia's blue eyes glistened, her voice a near-whisper. "I don't know, Mama. He looked... broken. Not like the prince in the papers, but like our Tarkan. It almost hurts more now."

Sofia sighed, pulling her into a warm embrace. "He may care, Mia, but that does not change his world, or ours. Your beauty, your heart, they are precious things, but in that palace, they are targets. We will talk more tomorrow. For now, you must rest."

Mia nodded, retreating to her room, the weight of Tarkan's sincerity a fragrance more potent and lingering than jasmine in the night air.

In the car, Tarkan and Myar sat in heavy silence as the city's lanterns cast fleeting glows across their bronze faces.

"She looked so breakable, Tarkan," Myar said softly. "But she listened. And so did Sofia. That's a start, isn't it?"

Tarkan's dark eyes were fixed on the looming, crimson-lit spires of the palace ahead. It was no longer a home; it was a fortress he had to conquer from within. "It's not enough," he said, his voice low and hard. "I saw the pain in her eyes, Myar. Pain that I caused. I need to fix this, not just apologize for it."

Myar squeezed his hand. "You showed her you care. But Sofia is right, any more irresponsible moves and Mia is the one who pays. What's next, Tarkan?"

His jaw tightened, a new, cold resolve hardening in his gaze. He didn't have a plan yet, but he had a new purpose. The time for emotional reactions was over. The time for strategy had begun.

"I'll find a way, Myar," he vowed, more to himself than to her. "I am not losing her again."