Florence walked through the grand hallway toward her mother's private office, the faint echo of footsteps trailing behind her. Beside her, Layla's gaze wandered, taking in every intricate pillar and arch as though each carried the breath of a long-forgotten tale. The air smelled faintly of polished wood and candle wax, and golden light streamed through the tall glass windows, painting shifting patterns across the marble floor.
Florence noticed the quiet fascination in Layla's eyes and allowed a faint smile.
"Quite the sight, isn't it?" she said lightly.
"It's beyond words, Princess," Layla replied, her tone filled with quiet amazement. Her eyes lingered on the pillars — carved with vines of gold leaf — and the smooth, diamond-shaped tiles that gleamed so bright she could almost see her reflection move with every step.
Florence's smile deepened. "It took twenty of the kingdom's finest artists, thirteen scholars, and twelve churches to propose the designs," she began, her voice carrying the calm pride of one repeating a story often told. "And Father rejected every one of their plans for nearly three weeks."
"Three weeks, Princess?" Layla turned slightly, her eyes widening.
Florence nodded, her steps graceful and unhurried. "Yes. It was only when Mother grew weary of the delays that she pressed him to hasten the work. She wished to begin her duties regarding women's affairs without interference. That is why this office stands before the gardens on the military side."
Layla's eyes fell once more to the tiles beneath her feet, where candlelight and daylight mingled into a soft dance of shimmer and reflection.
"Are you even listening?" Florence asked, a touch of impatience threading through her tone.
"My apologies, Princess," Layla said quietly. "Such things are for minds far greater than mine. We only know how to carry on with our tasks."
Florence exhaled faintly, her gaze steady ahead. "Closing your mind isn't part of your task," she murmured.
"What was that, Princess?"
"Nothing," she replied, brushing the thought aside as the tall oak doors came into view.
Two guards straightened at her approach. One bowed and opened the door.
"Your Highness, the Queen awaits you," he said, ushering her inside.
---
Florence just nodded at his words and walked in, her shoulders slightly stiff as if she suddenly noticed a different scent mingling in the air as she stepped inside.
In front of her, she saw the Queen at her usual spot, where she sat when working on serious matters.
It didn't take long for the Queen to notice someone had entered. She didn't look up immediately, as she knew she had asked the visitor to come herself. And she also knew the visitor could be no one else but her daughter — the one she wished to speak with.
"Come closer, Florence," she said, flipping the page of one of her large files with a single finger.
Florence stepped forward and bowed slowly.
"Mother." Then she straightened and looked back at the Queen. "You asked to see me," she said calmly, though a flicker of curiosity stirred within her.
"Yes, I did," the Queen replied, sighing as she closed her file and finally rested her hand on the table. "We have some visitors today." She exhaled and leaned back in her chair. "They wanted to see you, but you were having lunch, so I didn't summon you immediately. Still, I think we need to talk about it."
"Visitors?…" Florence raised a brow as she stepped closer to the table. "From where… and why would they want to see me?"
"Because they wished to present these gifts to you with their own hands." The Queen waved toward her right, where an impressive array of boxes of various sizes lay on the floor, each wrapped in shimmering ribbons and adorned with delicate bows. The packages gleamed under the light, their elegance suggesting the careful attention and ceremony put into each one.
Florence turned toward the display, trying to recall any party or gathering that might have prompted such offerings. Before she could speak, the Queen added, leaning forward with her elbows on the table and her gaze fixed on her daughter, "They are putting effort into this, truly."
"Not a single kingdom sends such thoughtful gifts to a princess after she rejects their prince's invitation — not once, but twice. And yet, they continue striving, hoping to win your favor."
Florence sighed at the realization of what the Queen was actually talking about.
The Queen noticed her acknowledgment, though Florence still avoided eye contact.
"Florence… look at me."
The princess met the Queen's eyes.
"I want you to think about it again," the Queen said — not as a sharp order, but as a simple matter of fact that Florence could no longer avoid the prince.
Then she leaned back in her chair and spoke with a quiet sigh.
"Your birthday is getting close, and your father has already sent them an invitation to join the celebration. You will behave properly with the prince that night."
"But Mother…"
"Enough, Florence." The Queen cut her off sharply, her tone firm with authority. "You are continuously failing in your dance classes, not attending charity events — even your brothers, who are busier than you, make time for their duties. The King is upset. Do not disappoint him again. Do as I say."
Florence sighed and looked down. She didn't nod — not visibly — but her silence was an answer that she would not protest any further.
The Queen noticed, then stood up, gathering the folds of her gown as she prepared to leave.
"You may go now," she said without looking at Florence, focusing on her papers instead.
"Yes, Mother." Florence bowed and left the office.
As she stepped out, Layla immediately noticed her quick, tense pace and the faint look of disgust on her face.
She began following her, as usual. "My princess, did something happen?" she asked softly, her tone filled with gentle concern.
"Where is Prince Sebastian?" Florence asked, her voice impatient.
"Prince Sebastian?" Layla asked, wondering why the princess suddenly wanted to see him.
"Yes, where is he?" Florence asked as they stepped out of the office.
"My princess, he's probably in his room. We haven't seen him outside much since—"
Before Layla could finish, Florence had already started making her way toward the palace.
"What's she planning now?" Layla wondered as she noticed the haste in Florence's pace.
****
"I threw them in the trash."
"I… I don't want to wear them."
Elara's trembling words still echoed in Sebastian's mind.
He smirked, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. His expression was as cold as the water around him.
"Threw them away? You think I'll let you do that?"
His grip on the pool wall tightened as he recalled the moment he had seen her again. He had wanted to pin her against him and shake some sense into her — to show her who she was speaking to with such a sharp tongue.
He had never seen such a stubborn woman in his entire life.
"Soon, you'll be all mine," he muttered in a low growl. "Your dreams, your body, your breath — it will all be mine. You. Will. Be. Mine."
"Relaxing here all alone?"
Sebastian blinked back to reality as he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around to see Edward approaching the poolside.
Their eyes met, and Sebastian rolled his own before turning away. "What do you want?"
"What I want?" Edward asked as he stepped closer, his usual calm tone unchanged. "Man, it's been months since we last saw each other, and this is how you welcome your brother?" He pouted playfully.
Edward came closer and sat on the edge of the pool, dipping his legs into the water. "Hmm… cold water. I think you've kept this habit from your time in the military. That doesn't bother you, right?"
He kept trying to make small talk, but Sebastian only grew more irritated. He slid into the water, kicked his long legs, and swam to the other side of the pool.
When his head emerged, he wiped the water from his face, his expression hard and controlled. His mind was still lost on the memory of Elara's indifference — how she had shown no interest in his efforts, as if nothing he did could win her trust.
"Brother! Where is Sebastian?" Florence suddenly called out as she stepped into the sunlight, her face still marked with frustration.
"Princess, stop! You're running too fast — you'll slip!" Layla gasped, out of breath while trying to catch up.
Edward turned toward the voice. "Oh, Sebastian?" He looked toward the far end of the pool and waved.
Florence's eyes followed his gesture until they landed on the far wall — where Sebastian's back was visible.
"How are you, Flo—"
"Don't have time," Florence cut Edward off mid-sentence and began walking straight toward Sebastian.
"Princess, stop!" Layla finally reached Edward's side. She noticed he was relaxed, his hands resting on the pool's edge while his legs were still in the water.
He looked effortlessly handsome — sunlight highlighting his sharp features. Edward turned to her with a small smile. "Need something?"
Oh, that deep voice of his. Layla barely managed to keep her balance as her voice trembled. "I… I was looking for the princess."
He smirked. "She never really listens, does she?" He turned slightly, gesturing toward the direction where Florence had gone.
"Oh no, Princess!" Layla spun around, bowing quickly. "Thank you, Your Majesty!" Then she hurried off again. "Wait, Princess, I'm coming!" she shouted as she tried to catch up.
Sebastian was stepping out of the pool just as Florence reached him. "Sebastian!"
He turned around to see his sister running toward him. She stopped in front of him. "Where were you last night?" she asked firmly.
Sebastian froze mid-step, caught off guard. "What?"
Florence sighed. "I said, where—"
"Princess!!!" Layla shouted, waving her hands as she finally caught up, panting heavily. "Ah, why were you running, Princess? You know you could fall and get—"
Her voice faltered the moment her eyes landed on Sebastian. His broad shoulders, wet hair, dark eyes, and guarded face — he looked nothing less than a fallen angel from the heavens. "—injured…" she finished weakly, unable to look away.
Sebastian noticed Layla's gaze lingering on him. He had no interest in being admired, so he turned and raised his hand. A servant immediately approached with a towel. Sebastian took it, wrapped it around his hips, and began walking back inside.
Florence's irritation flared at Layla's lack of discipline. She turned sharply toward her. "Layla, you don't have to follow me everywhere."
But was she listening? Absolutely not.
Her gaze was still fixed on Sebastian as he walked away.
Florence sighed, even more irritated. "LAYLA! Are you even listening?"
Layla blinked back to reality and turned quickly. "Ah, yes! Yes, Princess." She looked down, her cheeks burning with embarrassment — knowing she had been caught staring longer than she should have. "I was just worried about you, Princess. You looked upset since you came back from the Queen's office."
"It's none of your business. Now go. i need to talk with the prince without you staring at him." Florence's tone was clear and commanding.
"Ah… uh… o-okay, my princess. I'm leaving." Layla's ears burned red with humiliation as she quickly turned and hurried away from Florence's gaze.
Florence was clearly displeased by what had just happened, but she had more important matters to deal with. She turned again to see Sebastian already walking down the hallway.
"Sebastian, wait!" she called, running after him.
Sebastian didn't stop his pace, even though he heard his sister's voice calling from behind. His stride remained steady, unbothered.
Noticing this, Florence sighed and grabbed his arm. "Sebastian, I said stop!" she demanded sharply as she turned him towards her.
"What do you want, Florence? Why are you so concerned about where I was yesterday?" Sebastian faced her fully now, frustration clear in his expression.
Florence looked up at him. "I…" she swallowed hard. "Because I couldn't find you in your room whenever I come to you. I needed to talk to you."
"About what?" Sebastian's expression didn't soften; his irritation remained unchanged.
Florence tried to read past his cold demeanor. "Did you go out again?"
Sebastian snapped, "So what?" He threw the towel resting on his shoulders aside; it landed on the sofa with a dull thud. "Are you going to tell Father about it? Go ahead, tell him. I don't care. I've seen worse than this—just leave me alone."
"Sebastian, please, listen to me!" Florence pleaded as he walked toward his chamber.
"I don't want to hear your lecture, Florence. Just leave me alone."
But Florence didn't. Instead, she followed him inside his room. "Sebastian, I don't want to lecture you. Just stop and listen to me for a second."
Sebastian sighed and finally turned to face her. "Okay," he said flatly. "Tell me what you want."
"I need your help." She didn't hesitate or waste any time explaining.
A WHILE LATTER
"So, you're telling me the Prince of the North still wants to marry you after you've rejected his proposal more than once?"
"Yes, yes!" Florence slammed her hands twice on the mattress, as if it were to blame for her misery.
"And you want Mother to stop forcing you to meet him again at your birthday celebration?" He spoke as though piecing the situation together.
"Well, obviously." Florence sighed heavily.
Sebastian hummed, resting his arms along the back of the sofa as he raised an eyebrow in her direction. "And what exactly can I do about that? Isn't this the problem you created yourself?"
Florence rolled her eyes, annoyed. "I haven't created it. He's just too…" She paused, considering her words. "Boyish. What can I do? I want a man."
A soft chuckle escaped Sebastian's lips as he shook his head. "Oh dear, you won't get a man with that attitude."
She sighed in frustration. "Oh, come on." She stood up. "You're supposed to help me get rid of him, not sound just like Mother."
"Sorry, sweetheart," he said as he stood up as well, walking toward his walk-in closet. "I can't help you with that."
"Elara "
Sebastian froze mid-step. He was just about to reach for the closet door when he heard the name.
seeing her brother have paused at mid step a slow smirk curling across her lips. "That's her name, right?"
She take slow yet confident steps towards him, as if knowing the key is in her hands now, and she is not going to give it to anybody else.
"Elara Jules"