Princess Switch; A steamy love story

The wind was gentle that evening, rustling the rose petals like whispers of rebellion — or maybe that was just Evelina's imagination. She stood quietly by the marble railing of the west balcony, eyes trained on the lush palace gardens, sipping on the last moment of calm before the ball.

And then she saw it.

Her brother's chestnut stallion emerged through the palace gates at a gallop, followed by a more dramatic arrival — Prince Thorne of Ironvale, heir to war and glowering silence, riding in like a man who had just bathed in a pig's bathwater... blindfolded.

His royal tunic — once a deep navy silk — was now decorated in shades of brown, mud, and unidentified peasant shame. His face bore the unmistakable look of a man who'd been personally betrayed by water.

Evelina blinked once.

Then twice.

Then furrowed her brows in perfect, composed disbelief.

"Did he lose a duel with a puddle?" she muttered, amused, as her brother dismounted.

Prince Thorne slid off his horse with all the grace of a man who no longer believed in hygiene. His jaw was clenched, and he looked like someone had insulted his sword... and then his bloodline.

Her brother chuckled as he approached. "You're not far off. A village girl drenched him. Threw water out of a basin. Right on him."

"She splashed me," Thorne growled, approaching them with stiff strides. "No — ambushed me. With the aim of a trained assassin. The girl looked like she hadn't bathed in a month, smelled like pickled goats, and wore rags that might've once been curtains."

He spat the words like they offended his tongue.

"A smelly, dirty-looking peasant did this to me."

Evelina tilted her head, letting her eyes drift over his artful mud splatters.

Then, calmly — like she was discussing the weather — she replied:

"Well, if you didn't want to be splashed with dirt, Your Grace, perhaps you shouldn't be wandering among the so-called peasants you clearly detest. Thank your stars that all you received was water. Something worse could've landed in your lap... like character development."

Her brother choked on a laugh.

Thorne, however, raised an eyebrow.

And then — to her surprise — he smirked.

"Is that your way of defending a peasant who bathes by accident?" he asked, stepping closer, his tone low and smooth. "Or do you just enjoy watching me soaked, disheveled, and disgraced?"

She didn't flinch.

Instead, she smiled — ever so slightly — and stepped closer too, the air between them warm and charged.

"Let's just say," she said with regal calm, "it's the most interesting you've looked since you arrived."

Thorne's smile deepened, amused and sharp.

And somewhere inside her — beneath the crown, the duty, the aching restraint — Evelina felt a flicker of something she hadn't in months.

Danger.

And interest.

***

Liana's POV

The plan was already set.

Princess Evelina had laid it out for me like a checklist dipped in gold — how to walk, how to talk, how to fake a royal smile without looking like your corset's killing you. We were supposed to meet again today… one final prep before I officially stepped into a life stitched with rubies and expectations.

But first, I needed to see Jace.

Just once more.

Just to breathe in the only thing in my life that's ever felt solid.

I slipped away from the corner behind the laundry line, my apron folded neatly in my arms — not because I wanted to keep it clean, but because I didn't want to cry into it. Not yet.

The smithy wasn't too far. It never was. That man practically lived by his forge. The sound of steel kissing steel rang out like a hymn as I approached, the air thick with smoke, sweat, and the comfort of familiarity.

There he was.

Jace Ryden.

Bent over an anvil, his shirt half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, dark curls sticking to his forehead like they knew how distracting they were.

He looked up the second he felt me watching — because of course he did — and wiped the back of his wrist across his cheek. A smudge of coal streaked his skin like war paint, but his eyes… gods, those eyes.

"Well, well," he said, grinning. "Did the sun rise twice today or did I just get lucky?"

My heart did something stupid in my chest.

I rolled my eyes to keep it together.

"You flatter yourself too easily," I said, walking into his arms before I could overthink it.

He wrapped them around me without hesitation — warm, solid, home.

I buried my face in his chest and inhaled the scent of iron and ash. The forge clung to him, but beneath that was him. And I wanted to remember every layer.

"You okay?" he asked, rubbing slow circles on my back. "You're shaking a little."

"I'm always shaking. This world's unstable," I joked. My voice cracked on the last syllable.

He leaned back to look at me.

"Liana…" he whispered, brushing hair from my face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know. Maybe the sky's too blue. Maybe I've been thinking too much. Maybe I'm about to do something completely insane."

He studied me like I was a scroll with hidden ink.

"You always say things like that when your heart's heavy."

I looked up at him.

Eyes I could fall into.

A smile that felt like freedom.

And I was about to trade it all — even temporarily — for a crown that never belonged to me.

I reached up and kissed him.

Not a peck.

Not a goodbye.

But a promise.

The kind that says:

If I leave, I'll return.

If I fall, I'll fight.

And if I forget, remind me who I am.

His hand slid to the back of my neck, deepening it, grounding me in a storm only he could calm.

When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead on mine.

"Whatever you're about to do," he said softly, "I trust you."

I smiled, tears threatening to expose me.

"You shouldn't," I whispered.

He chuckled, brushing a thumb across my cheek.

"I know."

***

Princess Evelina's POV

The plan was ridiculous.

Beautifully, thrillingly ridiculous.

And yet, as I watched my most trusted maiden — Mira — sneak Liana into my chamber through the servants' entrance like some rogue soap-scented secret, I couldn't help the rush of excitement fizzing under my skin.

She looked like a laundry girl pretending to be a ghost. Hair tucked under a scarf, eyes darting like she'd stolen the crown jewels, and boots that left soap stains on my marble floor. Horrifying.

"Stop looking like you're about to be executed," I said, arms crossed, a grin tugging at the edge of my lips. "You're about to become royalty."

She raised a brow. "And you're about to become someone who gets yelled at for not rinsing the soap twice."

Touché.

Mira coughed discreetly, clearing her throat as if to say 'please don't break your brains before we even start' and shut the door behind us.

"Lesson one," I said, clapping my hands. "Posture. You can't slouch like a towel rack, Liana. Stand straight. Chin up. Back like a willow, not a wall."

Liana puffed up her chest so stiffly she looked like she was about to fall backwards.

"Am I doing it?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"You look like you're impersonating a goose with spinal problems."

She flipped me off behind her back.

I pretended not to see.

.....