Caelum sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.
He had always known the king and these useless nobles were slow-witted, but he didn't expect to be repeating the same damn answer over and over again.
'I should be listening to my sun nag me instead of wasting my time here… instead of this bullshit...' he clenched his hands.
He clicked his tongue, 'Why are all humans so annoying?'
"Yes, Your Majesty," he said with forced patience. "As I've stated already, I've dealt with him."
He took a deep breath, steadying his emotions.
Gideon gave a slow nod. "Good. Now, since you are my son-in-law—"
"Excuse me?" Caelum's brows furrowed.
Even though he was kneeling, his sharp gaze shot up directly at the king.
Gideon smirked, resting his head on one hand. "What's the matter? You were the one who asked for her hand in marriage."
"And I'm grateful that she's no longer my concern," he replied with a dramatic sigh.
"You may send her to your manor—or whatever estate you'd like."
He said dismissively. The King was tired of Layla who kept doing whatever she liked. She was a rebel princess anyway.
"Even when I can send her to another kingdom... you should feel honored that I agree to this wedding."
Caelum clenched his fists as he rose to his feet. "Your Majesty, the wedding was called off. The princess is not yet my wife."
He offered a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "And I'm rather busy, so unless there's anything truly urgent, I'll be taking my leave."
He turned sharply, ignoring the outraged shouts and curses from the gathered nobles.
The king, meanwhile, watched him go with narrowed eyes, leaning toward his advisor.
The man at his side—an elder with the same silver hair and a composed expression—was none other than Duke Richard.
Hearing the king's whispered words, the duke's eyes widened slightly before he gave a nod.
***
As Caelum walked through the palace grounds, he halted when his gaze fell upon the garden. A sea of marigolds stretched out before him, their yellow blooms blanketing the space in warm, golden hues.
They were shining, warm, and beautifully delicate. Without realizing it, he walked into the garden and gently touched a marigold petal, brushing against it and feeling its soft texture—it reminded him of someone.
"Right… Sol likes flowers," he murmured to himself, a rare, gentle smile curving his lips. "I should plant these in the garden. He'd love them."
"Funny," Caelum murmured. "He liked marigolds because they looked like the sun. I never told him they're also for mourning."
He plucked one marigold from its stalk and brought it to his nose, inhaling the subtle floral scent.
His eyes drifted shut, and in the darkness behind his lids, memories flickered to life—Solen beneath him, gasping, breathy, and broken, calling his name like a sacred prayer.
It was a wonderful sight he would never forget as his smile turned into a smirk. "What should I do to make him call me with those lovely voices again?"
"Oh, and that beautiful crying face of his... should I break his legs so he could scream again?"
He sighed and shook his head. "No. He would absolutely hate me... and I hate those terrified eyes."
He looked up at the sky, wondering if Solen was also looking back at him from above.
But then, a voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Oh? Isn't this the hero? And what's with that creepy smiling face of yours?"
Caelum didn't need to turn to know who it was. He took a slow breath and looked over.
She stood elegantly in a pastel-colored dress that matched the soft hue of her long hair cascading down her waist. A parasol shielded her delicate face as she fanned herself lazily.
Layla.
"Princess Layla," Caelum said dryly.
"Shouldn't you be sipping tea with the other noble ladies? Gossiping? Doing something useful—like not disturbing me?"
Layla tilted her head, unimpressed. "Disturbing you? Who's disturbing who? Last I checked, we're married now. You could at least try not to be so rude to your darling wife."
"We are not married," he replied coldly. "The priest hasn't ratified the ceremony. It was postponed."
"Weird," she said, tapping her chin. "Father told me you were my husband now. He must really want to be rid of me, huh?"
Caelum rolled his eyes, couldn't stand her bullshit anymore, and turned away, only to be stopped by her hand on his arm.
He slapped it off without hesitation, feeling disgusted by the touch.
"Ouch. Calm down," she said, shaking her hand before leaning in closer. "So… how's your soulmate doing?"
Caelum's fists clenched so tightly, that his nails nearly broke skin. 'I should never have agreed to work with this woman. Can she even keep her mouth shut?'
'Should I...'
As if reading his thoughts, Layla smirked. "Should I just kill her and hide her body somewhere?"
He froze.
"That's what you were thinking, right?" she continued breezily. "You're really easy to read, you know."
She waved off the tension. "Relax. I'm not here to pester you. Just curious."
She gave him a playful slap on the arm, which he immediately brushed off in distaste.
"Are you done, Princess?"
"Not quite." She gave him a crooked smile. "Can I meet him?"
Caelum was ready to say no but paused. A glint of calculation passed through his eyes before he nodded.
"Yes. But if you breathe a word of this to anyone, your tongue will be cut out."
"Don't worry," she said brightly. "I don't plan on dying just yet."
Layla looked far too pleased, like a child about to open a long-awaited present.
After all, this marriage had only been arranged to trap the hero's so-called soulmate—the one person she never thought Caelum, of all people, would fall for.
Who would have thought that even someone as cold and cruel as him could have someone he dearly loved?
''This is going to be fun,' she thought, her grin widening as she walked beside him.