The party faded behind us, replaced by birdsong and the gentle rustle of leaves. Lucien had coaxed me away from the garden crowd with a boyish grin and a mischievous promise of "less boring company."
Now, we stood beneath the willow tree at the edge of the estate's reflecting pond. Its drooping branches danced in the breeze like green silk curtains.
"You really don't like him, do you?" Lucien asked, hands clasped behind his back as he stared out across the water.
I tilted my head. "Who?"
He shot me a look. "The prince."
I smiled faintly. "That would be a dangerous opinion to voice."
"Good thing I like danger," he said, plucking a leaf from the air. "But you're dodging the question."
I sat on the low stone bench beneath the willow, watching the water ripple. "It's not about like or dislike. It's… complicated."
He let that sit for a moment, then glanced at me with quiet curiosity. "You speak like someone far older than ten."
I didn't reply.
How could I?
How could I tell him I'd once stood at the edge of death with no one at my side? That I'd loved blindly, shattered silently, and died by royal decree?
"I think people expect too much from nobles," I said instead. "We're just children in costumes pretending we understand the world."
Lucien was silent for a beat—then let out a soft chuckle. "That's the first honest thing I've heard all week."
He dropped onto the bench beside me, not too close, but near enough that I could feel the warmth of his presence.
"Everyone says you're cold," he said. "But I think you're just tired of playing pretend."
I blinked.
That… was surprisingly accurate.
Lucien turned toward me, eyes twinkling with amusement. "You know, if you ever grow tired of your fiancé, I'm an excellent replacement. My mother says I'm charming."
I raised an eyebrow. "And what do you say?"
"I say I'm better company than a prince who stares like he's plotting war."
I couldn't help it—I laughed. Just a little. Just enough to make him grin wider.
He leaned back against the trunk. "You should laugh more. It suits you."
The branches above shifted, casting dappled light across his face.
For a brief moment, I forgot everything—the execution, the betrayal, the past.
It was just me, a willow tree, and a boy with too much charm.
But then…
"I see the rumors were true."
Caelum's voice was quiet. Cold. And behind us.
Lucien stood up at once, all trace of mischief vanishing.
I turned slowly to find Caelum watching us, expression blank—but his clenched fists betrayed him.
"Your Highness," I said with practiced calm.
He didn't respond. His gaze lingered a second longer on Lucien, then on me.
"Your mother is looking for you."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away.
Lucien watched him go. "He doesn't like losing."
"I never asked him to win," I murmured.
---