I Reincarnated as a Princess… But Ended Up Selling Fruit

He should not have been able to step past the spirit line.

That was the first rule.

The orchard only allowed who Lara allowed. The wards were tied to her spirit, her bloodline, her will. Not even her own crew could enter without tripping a flare unless she granted them access.

So when she saw him—standing under the arching canopy of glowing leaves, not burned, not cursed, not even itchy—her first instinct was simple.

Panic.

Followed by: throw something.

Followed closely by: try not to climb him like a tree.

"Don't say it," she muttered.

Rime was silent beside her, his fur fluffed out like a wet towel. "Say what?"

"That this proves anything."

"Oh, no. I would never say that this proves he's spiritually tethered to you, that your orchard recognizes him on a subconscious level, and that you're maybe emotionally compromised. Nope. Definitely not saying that."

"Rime."

"I'm just here for the drama."

Below them, the man took a slow step forward. He didn't call out. Didn't demand answers. He just looked. Up at her. Through her. Like she was the one trespassing.

She hated how still he was. How calm. How annoyingly present.

She descended the spiraled staircase one step at a time, fingers twitching with magic she didn't trust.

When she reached the clearing, the air changed.

The orchard went quiet.

And he spoke.

"You glow when you're angry."

Lara stopped three steps away. "And you bleed when you're punched."

His lips twitched. Not a smile. Just the ghost of one. "Are you threatening me?"

"No," she said, crossing her arms. "That would imply effort."

He held up a familiar-looking fruit—round, golden, blushing pink at the edges.

A peach.

She blinked. "You stole from my tree."

"I paid for it."

"You paid for an apple. This is an upgrade."

He took a slow bite.

Juice slid down his thumb.

Lara's jaw clenched.

He chewed. Swallowed. Looked at her with the kind of expression that should be illegal in public spaces.

"Do all your fruit taste like memory?" he asked.

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Like something I should've never forgotten."

Lara's heartbeat stuttered.

"That's not how peaches work," she snapped, suddenly furious.

He stepped closer.

Not aggressive. Not smug. Just steady.

"You were in my dream again."

"Nope," she said. "We're not doing this."

"I remember your voice."

"Nope."

"You said you didn't have a name."

"I don't. I sell fruit."

"You said you'd forget me by morning."

She froze.

Because that? She did remember saying.

Just once. Just softly. Just before she'd fallen asleep wrapped in warmth and sin and the lie that it didn't mean anything.

She didn't answer.

He tilted his head, reading her silence like a confession. "What's your real name?"

"None of your business."

"Why did the orchard let me in?"

"Glitch in the system."

"Why are you shaking?"

Lara realized her hands were trembling—barely, but enough. She curled them into fists and exhaled through her teeth.

"Maybe it's because some arrogant bastard with good cheekbones won't stop eating my peaches and asking loaded questions in my magically protected orchard."

His eyes lit with something sharp and burning. "So you admit they're yours?"

"I admit nothing," she hissed.

"Then why are you glowing again?"

Lara did the only thing she could think of.

She grabbed the peach from his hand, took a massive bite, wiped her mouth, and said,

"Because I'm allergic to bullshit."

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Lara chewed the peach with dramatic vengeance, trying to pretend the juice wasn't running down her chin like poetic karma.

He just watched her—dark eyes steady, unreadable.

"You're not afraid of me," he said at last.

"Why would I be afraid of a man who keeps showing up like an exorcism in a trench coat?"

"You know who I am."

"Tall. Broody. Bad taste in interrogation tactics."

"Try again."

She narrowed her eyes. "Fine. You're someone who doesn't know how to take a hint and insists on poking around in places he doesn't belong."

His gaze didn't flinch. "And you're someone who hides behind fruit and sarcasm because you're terrified of being known."

Lara took another aggressive bite. "You're lucky this peach is excellent."

"And you're lucky I haven't arrested you."

Her laugh came sharp and bright. "Oh, arrest me, why don't you. Drag me to your Emperor. Tie me up in golden chains. Gods, that's not even a threat at this point."

That got him.

The corner of his mouth twitched again. Just barely. But enough.

"You're infuriating," he muttered.

"And yet you keep coming back."

He stepped forward again.

Lara didn't move.

"I've searched for years," he said quietly. "For someone with magic like yours. Spirit magic. Rooted. Alive. We thought it was extinct."

She rolled her eyes. "And now what? You'll study me? Cage me? Breed me with your high-and-mighty bloodline?"

He blinked. "...What?"

"Never mind," she muttered. "Been reading too many cursed romance scrolls."

But his expression changed.

Softer. Sadder.

"No," he said. "I wouldn't cage you."

She met his gaze.

And for a terrifying second, there was something real between them. Not flirting. Not sass. Just raw, unspoken recognition.

Her spirit mark pulsed—just once—under her scarf.

The orchard responded.

The wind shifted.

Leaves rustled overhead. The heart tree's branches creaked.

And between them, the ground lit up with a slow, silver pulse—spiraling from beneath her feet, coiling toward his.

The orchard was... reaching.

"Lara," Rime's voice hissed in her head. "Get. Out. Now."

She stepped back—instinct, fear, everything screaming at her.

But the man didn't move. Not when the vines curled around his boots. Not when the air started humming like a spell warming up.

He just looked at her like he knew her.

"Kiss me," he said suddenly.

"What?!"

He blinked. "I meant—tell me your name."

She stared, face flaming. "That is NOT the same thing!"

"I said it wrong!"

"I'm leaving!"

But before she could turn—

The orchard bloomed.

All at once.

Peach blossoms erupted around them, glowing like starlight.

And for the first time in years…

Lara was absolutely speechless.

----

Lara backed up slowly.

The blossoms were still blooming—petals fluttering down like it was spring and not a spiritual crisis disguised as horticulture.

"You need to leave," she said, voice low and shaking. "Now."

He didn't move. "Why is this happening?"

"You're inside a spirit warded orchard that only reacts to people I trust," she snapped.

"So you trust me?"

"I don't! That's the problem!"

The vines near her feet started to spiral, glowing brighter with each pulse. The orchard wasn't just reacting—it was responding. Feeding off her magic. Her emotions. Her denial.

The man stepped forward again. "Lara—"

"Stop saying my name like you know it."

He did stop.

But his expression twisted—not in anger, but in pain.

"I've been looking for you," he said.

"Congratulations," she replied. "You found a fruit seller with commitment issues and magical anxiety."

"No," he said, firmer now. "I've been looking for you."

And the way he said it?

Like a prayer he didn't believe he deserved to say.

She hated it.

Because it cracked something inside her that she'd built very carefully out of sarcasm, orchard management, and emotional repression.

"Do you remember the night?" he asked softly.

Lara turned.

Her voice came out too fast, too defensive. "I don't remember anything. I was drunk. I was grieving. I thought you were just a hot stranger who didn't ask questions."

"I didn't."

"I didn't want your name. I didn't want your story. I just wanted—" She stopped.

He waited.

She looked away. "I just wanted to forget everything for one night."

Silence stretched between them like a string pulled tight.

He took another step. "Then why did you save me?"

She blinked. "What?"

"You healed me," he said. "I was poisoned. I remember collapsing. And you... you touched my chest and the pain stopped. The light—your light—it burned the venom out of me."

Lara's throat closed.

She remembered touching someone's chest. She remembered the panic. The way his skin had glowed. The way her magic had surged before she could even think.

She'd written it off as a hallucination.

But now—

"Why didn't you say that before?" she whispered.

"I didn't remember," he said. "Not until I saw your orchard. Not until I saw you."

Lara stepped back again.

The magic was too thick. Too bright. The air shimmered like the edge of a dream.

She couldn't breathe.

"I'm not who you think I am," she said.

"I think you're someone who saved my life," he replied. "And then vanished. And I need to know why."

"Because I was never supposed to exist," she said—too loud, too raw. "And every second you stand here, this orchard remembers that I do."

She turned and ran.

The vines parted for her. The orchard let her go.

But it did not dim.

Behind her, it kept glowing.

And for the first time since she fell from that cliff and left her old name behind—

Lara wasn't sure it would let her stay hidden much longer.

[End of Chapter 7]