"I know you're spying on Syrindall. I know you're planning to invade us in a matter of months." I forced my voice to remain steady, though every word I spoke felt like treading on thin ice. Strengthening my resolve, I stepped closer to the man before me, his presence doing little to scare me.
"I know that once you find Syrindall's weakness," I continued, my gaze locking onto his, "Eldoria will waste no time declaring an official war. And why wouldn't you? Syrindall is nothing more than a kingdom of farmers and merchants. What chance do we have against the military genius Alistair Michaelis Reynaldi of Eldoria?"
His name fell from my lips like a challenge, and the weight of it filled the room. For a moment, his expression didn't change—his features remained stoic, as if he's carved from stone. But then his lips curved into a faint, almost dangerous smile, one that didn't reach his eyes.
"Impressive," he said, his voice low and measured, but with a hint of something dangerous. "You've done your homework, Princess. I didn't realize they taught strategy in Syrindall's court."
His words stung, but I refused to let them shake me. Instead, I took another step closer, my chin lifting defiantly. "Call it whatever you want," I shot back, "but desperation doesn't make me blind. I see what's coming, Alistair. And I know what you're capable of."
A heavy silence was between us. His blue eyes searched mine, as though trying to understand my motives—or perhaps to find my weakness. But I didn't flinch.
Finally, he leaned back slightly, his smile fading as his expression changed. "If you know all this," he said slowly, his tone carrying a hint of intrigue, "then why are you here? I'm pretty sure, you didn't come all this way just to tell me what I already know."
His question hung in the air, and I felt the full weight of his attention bearing down on me. This was the moment—the gamble that could change everything.
"I know Syrindall doesn't stand a chance against Eldoria." My voice was firm, though my heart thundered in my chest. I met his gaze head-on, letting every ounce of determination I could muster shine through. "So, how about we make a deal?"
His brow arched, intrigue sparking in those sharp, calculating eyes. He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his broad chest as a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "A deal, hm?" he echoed, his tone light, almost mocking. "And what kind of deal would a princess propose to a mere military genius?"
I inhaled deeply, steadying the storm of emotions churning inside me. This was the moment I had been turning over in my mind for hours, the only solution I could think of to save my people. War wasn't an option—not for a kingdom like Syrindall, built on the backs of farmers and merchants. It was either my life... or my country's survival.
His piercing gaze never left me, and for a fleeting second, doubt tried to crush my resolve. But I swallowed hard, exhaled slowly, and forced myself to meet those ocean-blue eyes that seemed to see straight through me.
"I want you to marry me," I said, my words clear, unwavering.
The room fell silent. His smirk faded, replaced by a look of stunned disbelief. He blinked once, twice, as though he hadn't heard me correctly.
"Marry you?" he repeated, his voice lower now, his tone unreadable. His arms uncrossed, and he leaned forward slightly, his expression shifting into something far more serious. "Princess, do you even understand what you're saying?"
"I do," I replied firmly, though my hands trembled at my sides. "Syrindall can't survive a war against Eldoria. But a union—it would save my people. It would end the bloodshed before it even begins."
He studied me in silence, his expression unreadable, and the weight of his scrutiny pressed down on me like a physical force. Then, slowly, a dangerous smile crept back onto his lips.
"You're either incredibly brave," he murmured, his voice almost a purr, "or incredibly foolish." He tilted his head, his gaze narrowing. "Do you truly think binding yourself to me will save your kingdom? That I'll simply abandon my plans because of a wedding vow?"
"I don't think," I said, my voice cutting through his skepticism. "I know. Because if I give you my hand, I give you Syrindall. No bloodshed. No war. It's the only way to protect my people—and the only way for you to take what you want without staining your hands with unnecessary war."
His smile faltered, just slightly, as if my words had struck a chord. For a moment, the air between us crackled with tension, his silence almost unbearable.
Finally, he leaned back, his expression unreadable once more. "You're either a genius or a fool, Princess," he said softly. "And I can't decide which one."
"I'm both," I replied with a shrug, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I stepped closer, closing the space between us, refusing to back down. For a split second, I saw him flinch, as if some part of him wanted to retreat. But I pressed on. "So, what is it, then? Your answer?"
Alistair stifled a low chuckle, the sound deep and almost bitter. "You're relentless," he muttered, shaking his head. His hand raked through his dark, silky hair, tousling it in a way that only added to his disheveled charm. "But I can't give you an answer right away, Your Highness."
My chest tightened at his response, but before I could protest, he continued, his tone more measured. "You see, I still serve a king. And decisions of this scale are not mine alone to make."
He straightened, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine, the weight of his words sinking in. "Even if I were to consider your... proposal, it's not as simple as you think. Marriage to a princess of Syrindall isn't a decision I can make on a whim. Not without the approval of my king. Not without weighing the cost."
His gaze lingered on me, sharp and assessing, as though he were trying to peel back every layer of my resolve. "And tell me, Princess," he added, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, "what makes you think my king—or I—would see this alliance as more valuable than conquest?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded, but I didn't falter. "Because you're not just a soldier," I said, my voice quiet but unwavering. "You're a man who understands strategy. And you know that a bloodless victory is worth far more than a war that could drag on for years, costing lives and resources—on both sides."
A flicker of something—is it respect or amusement?—crossed his face, but it was gone before I could decipher it. He leaned back slightly, folding his arms as he regarded me with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
"You've thought this through," he said, almost to himself. "Far more than I gave you credit for."
"I have," I replied firmly. "And I'll wait for your answer—but not for long. My people's lives depend on it."
He nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Very well, Princess," he said at last, his voice quiet but firm. "I'll consider your offer. But know this—if I agree, it won't be out of mercy or kindness. It will be because it serves Eldoria's purpose."
"As would be Syrindall's." I said, meeting his gaze with equal resolve.
Alistair rose from his seat with a quiet grace. My breath caught in my throat as the space between us disappeared, my feet rooted in place as if the weight of his presence alone had trapped me. My heart pounded furiously, each beat louder than the last, echoeing in my ears like a drum.
When his piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, the stoic façade I had seen earlier was gone. In its place was something softer, something tender, and it made my resolve waver. The intensity of his gaze left me frozen, and for a moment, it felt as though he could see into my soul.
"I cannot understand what's going through your mind, Karina," Alistair murmured, his voice low and quiet, as if the words were meant more for himself than for me.
Before I could respond, he raised a hand, and I found myself unable to look away. His fingers brushed against my cheek with a gentleness that I have felt in the past. His touch sent a shiver racing down my spine, my breath hitching as my skin warmed beneath his hand. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. His thumb traced a soft path along my cheekbone, and I could feel the roughness of his calloused hands—a reminder of the wars he has been, of the life he had. Yet here he was, handling me as if I were something fragile, something precious.
I don't want this to end.
But as if he'd been burned, he withdrew his hand abruptly, shoving it into his pocket as though it would shield him from whatever this moment was becoming.
"Why do you do this to yourself?" he asked softly, his voice laced with a faint edge of frustration that betrayed the tenderness of his touch. His gaze, sharp and searching, bore into mine, as though trying to decipher the tangled web of emotions that I kept so carefully hidden.
"You risk everything—your title, your safety—for what?" he continued, his voice growing quieter, more measured. "For your country?"
His words lingered between us, each one laden with a weight I couldn't escape. The intensity of his presence pressed down on me, and yet I couldn't look away. The warmth of his touch lingered like a ghost on my skin, and the unspoken tension that hung in the air made my thoughts a chaotic blur.
I searched his eyes—those deep, oceanic hues that seemed to hold a tempest of emotions. For a fleeting moment, I wanted to believe there was something hidden there, some flicker of tenderness that might explain why he hadn't already dismissed me. But there was nothing—only a guarded intensity, a wall I couldn't breach.
"Yes," I finally replied, my voice steady but quiet. "I am doing this for my country."
The words felt heavier than they should have, as though they carried more than just my resolve—they carried my desperation, my fear, and my hope all at once. I straightened my posture, trying to summon the strength I needed to meet his piercing gaze without faltering.
"My people deserve better than war. They deserve peace, even if it comes at my expense." My lips tightened into a thin line, and I forced myself to keep my composure. "If this is the price I have to pay, then so be it."
His expression didn't waver, though a shadow passed across his face—brief, but unmistakable. For a moment, it felt as though he wanted to say something, but he remained silent, his gaze lingering on me with an intensity that made my breath hitch.
"You're either the bravest woman I've ever met," he murmured at last, his voice low, "or the most reckless."
I allowed myself a small smile, though it felt hollow, more a mask than a genuine expression. "I shall be waiting for your response, Duke Reynaldi," I said, nodding curtly. "I trust you will think this through."
With that, I pulled the hood of Anna's cloak over my head, casting my face into shadow. My legs carried me toward the door, but my heart was a storm, slamming wildly against my ribs. I didn't know if it was from the weight of what I'd just done or... something else entirely.
All I knew was that I needed to leave. The room, with its sparse furnishings and his piercing gaze, was suffocating me, pressing down on me in ways I couldn't explain.
I reached for the door handle, my fingers trembling slightly, when his voice broke the silence behind me.
"Karina."
The sound of my name on his lips froze me in place. It wasn't harsh or commanding—it was soft, almost reluctant, as though he hadn't meant to say it aloud. My breath caught, and I hesitated, my hand still resting on the door.
For a moment, I couldn't bring myself to turn around. The weight of his voice hung heavy in the air, laced with something I couldn't quite name. Was it regret? Hesitation? Or something else entirely?
"Yes?" I asked quietly, my voice barely above a whisper, unsure if I wanted to hear what he would say next.
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. Alistair's gaze locked onto mine from across the room, soft yet intense, as if he were trying to decipher something hidden in my soul. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his, the weight of his unspoken words pressing down on me like a storm on the horizon.
"Alistair?" I finally broke the silence, my voice trembling slightly, unsure of what would come next.
He blinked, and in that instant, it was as if some invisible tension snapped, the spell broken. With a sigh, he stood, his movements slow and deliberate, as though weighing every step. His footsteps echoed softly as he closed the distance between us, and I felt my knees tremble beneath me. The air seemed to thicken with each step he took toward me, and I gripped the door handle harder than before, trying desperately to steady myself.
"I'll walk you out," Alistair said, his voice low, almost a murmur. "I cannot have you leave this inn without anyone with you."
"I respectfully refuse, Your Grace." I said as I lowered my eyes. I cannot have him see that I am contemplating of accepting his offer.
"No." Alistair stood just a few feet away now, his presence consuming the space between us. There was no mocking, no teasing—just a quiet intensity, something that was both comforting and unsettling at the same time. "You heard me," he said softly, his eyes unwavering as they locked with mine. "I won't let you leave alone. I just can't let my future bride walk all the way back to the palace, can I?"
The words lingered in the air, their weight wrapping around me like a cloak. Future… bride?
I stared at him blankly, my mind struggling to catch up with his statement. When the meaning finally sank in, a flush of heat surged to my cheeks, turning it into crimson. I dropped my gaze, unable to meet the mischievous glint in his piercing blue eyes.
"S-Stop that." I stammered, the words tumbling out in a weak attempt to regain control over the situation.
"Stop what?" he asked, his tone with amusement. The corners of his lips curled into a faint, annoyingly charming smile. "Isn't it you who proposed that we marry each other?"
"That's different," I snapped, though my voice lacked conviction. My hands fidgeted with the fabric of my cloak as I desperately tried to steady my breathing. "I have someone waiting for me a few blocks away from here. He will take me back to the palace."
"Can he be trusted?" Alistair asked as he stared at me.
"Yes." I curtsied. "Farewell, Your Grace. I am hoping to hear from you soon."
With shaking hands, I opened the door and slipped outside the room and quickly got out of the inn. The loud beating of my heart deafened me. I saw Anna's brother at the corner, frantically waving for him to get my attention. I slipped back to the cart and we quietly rode back to the palace.
I finally did it. I finally asked Alistair Reynaldi's hand for marriage. Now, all that is left to do is to wait for his response. All I am hoping is that I made an impact enough to change his mind and accept my proposal.
"I only pray that he will accept my proposal." i murmured to myself as I slowly drifted to sleep.