The capital city's marketplace was a dizzying rush of sound, spice, and silks, a thousand times louder than Maya's quiet village. She was there to sell her foster father's best catch, her eyes scanning the crowds and the endless rows of goods.
Her focus was broken at a stall selling painted ceramics. She reached out for a smooth, blue-and-white teacup—a luxury she couldn't afford, but one she admired—and at the exact same moment, another hand reached for the cup.
Their fingers brushed.
The contact was electric, a small, sudden shock of warmth that instantly silenced the noise of the market. Maya looked up, her breath catching.
The young man was strikingly handsome, dressed in fine, understated robes that hinted at high status. His eyes were dark, intense, and focused solely on her. His lips parted in a slight, involuntary smile.
Dong-jin.
For a timeless instant, the chaos of the marketplace dissolved. There was only the heat of their brief touch and the silent, unspoken recognition in their gaze.
Before either of them could speak, a massive, stiffly embroidered sleeve of a royal guard clipped Maya's shoulder, jarring her back to reality. When she turned back, the young man was gone, swallowed by the crush of people, leaving Maya's hand tingling and her heart inexplicably racing.