The prince had never been this painfully aware of his own reflection.
He stood before the tall window of the audience room, pretending to admire the garden outside while actually studying the faint image staring back at him in the glass. Golden hair neatly combed, then combed again, then smoothed once more for good measure. Almond shaped eyes that usually carried confidence now looked far too alert, as if they might betray him at any second.
He tugged at his collar. Too stiff? Too loose? He adjusted it anyway.
"…You look fine," he muttered under his breath. "You are perfectly presentable. You are a prince."
The reflection didn't look convinced.
He sighed softly and straightened his shoulders, trying to summon the calm authority he used in court. Unfortunately, his heart had other plans. It beat far too fast, loud enough that he half-worried someone outside the door could hear it.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
He froze.
She's here.
He clasped his hands behind his back just as the door opened, standing far too stiff like a soldier bracing for inspection rather than a man waiting to meet someone he admired.
Denova stepped inside.
She's wearing a simple dress. Her sleeves were rolled slightly, smudged faintly with charcoal from sketching. Her hair was tied back loosely, a few strands escaping near her face. She looked… real, and entirely herself.
And somehow, that made it worse.
"Your Highness," she greeted, offering a polite bow. "I apologize for making you wait. I was in the middle of drafting the Empress's design."
The prince's carefully rehearsed composure collapsed instantly.
"Oh no….please…." he said, stepping forward a little too quickly. "I mean—this is my fault. Entirely my fault. I should have sent a letter ahead of time. I didn't mean to interrupt your work."
Denova blinked, clearly surprised, then let out a small laugh as she waved her hand.
"No, no, that's not what I meant," she said gently. "I only meant it took me a while to finish because I tend to rush when receiving a royal guest. It would have been improper for me to make you wait longer."
He stared at her for a moment before visibly relaxing, shoulders sagging in relief.
"Oh," he said, exhaling. "I'm glad. I truly thought I'd offended you."
Her lips curved into a soft smile. "You didn't."
An awkward pause followed—not uncomfortable, just… quiet. The kind of silence where both people are suddenly very aware of each other.
Denova broke it first. "May I ask what brings Your Highness here today?"
The prince inhaled slowly. Now or never.
"I came to thank you," he said, then added quickly, "Properly. In person."
Her brows lifted slightly. "Thank me?"
"Yes," he said, nodding, then promptly launched into a longer explanation than he had intended. "My mother…..Her Majesty has not stopped talking about you since the ball."
Denova stiffened. "M-me?"
"Yes!" His face brightened despite himself. "The moment she saw your dress, she couldn't look away. She asked who designed it. When she learned it was you, and that Lady Fhiore herself praised your work she was completely delighted."
Denova felt her face warm. She looked away instinctively, fingers curling slightly at her side.
"The Empress has… excellent taste," she said carefully.
"She does," he agreed earnestly. "She once tried to reserve a gown from Lady Fhiore's boutique, but the waiting list was over a year long. If she were anyone else, it might have been two. When she heard you were involved, and that Lady Fhiore admired your design she was genuinely excited. I've never seen her smile like that over a dress before."
He paused, then added more softly, more honestly,
"You made her very happy."
That did it.
Denova was completely caught off guard. Compliments were one thing, but this felt different, sincere, and personal. Her ears burned, and she had to take a small breath before speaking.
"I… I'm honored," she said. "But you praise me too highly."
Only then did the prince realize he had been talking nonstop.
"Oh!" he said quickly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I just….when I talk about my mother, I tend to forget how to stop."
That earned a soft laugh from her.
"I noticed," she said lightly.
He laughed too, rubbing the back of his neck. "I suppose that wasn't very princely of me."
"I think it was," she replied. "It was honest."
That seemed to fluster him more than any formal remark could have.
"I… would like to be your friend," he said after a moment, choosing his words carefully. "If you don't mind."
She studied him briefly, then nodded. "I don't mind at all. You're very kind, Your Highness. We already meet at the ball before , and i though we've been friends since then."
The prince then remembered that scene. " Well, i just want to politely ask you again."
At that moment, a knock sounded.
Yoter entered with a tea tray. "Orange Pekoe," he announced calmly. "These are the young, whole leaves plucked from the very top of the tea plant. The name 'Orange Pekoe' often conjures images of citrus groves, but the reality is far more nuanced. It's a classification, you see, a mark of distinction for black teas composed of specific leaf grades."
Yoter then took start brewing the tea. "The true magic, however, lies in the brewing. We've ensured the water is at precisely 200 degrees Fahrenheit, allowing for optimal extraction without scalding the delicate leaves. And the steeping time? A mere three minutes. Any longer, and the tannins will assert themselves, resulting in a rather…unpleasant bitterness."
Denova felt like she's watching a tv show, she's really amaze on how knowledgeable Yoter is. Denova then thanked him and took a sip. The prince followed, and immediately brightened.
"This is excellent," he said.
Yoter inclined his head. "I'm pleased to hear that."
As they drank, the conversation drifted easily, about fabrics, court gossip Denova politely avoided, and the Empress's surprisingly sharp eye for detail. The tension slowly melted into something comfortable.
Finally, the prince cleared his throat.
"Lady Denova," he said, gathering his courage once more, "would you allow me to tour you around the Vencrest Empire? As a way to repay your kindness."
She hesitated.
Lowen. Her sketches. Her work.
But Patricia's words echoed in her mind "one does not refuse royalty lightly."
"…Very well," she said.
His face lit up like he'd just been granted a great honor.
"I promise I'll do my best," he said, then stood up because of excitement. The prince straightened, clearly trying to regain whatever dignity he had misplaced during his own enthusiasm.
"Then… I will do my best to give you a proper tour of the empire," he said, voice firm almost heroic. " I didn't mean this in offensive way but i observe that your life is largely conducted within Ravenscroft manor, and now the Duke's manor. A modicum of touring, I believe, could be most… edifying to your already extensive knowledge."
The prince did say that but inside his mind is like a battle. What did i just say? I'm completely spouting nonsense in front of Denova! Now i just look like an idiot!
Denova raised a brow slightly. "That sounds… very serious."
He coughed. "It is. Extremely."
There was a brief pause before he added, much more sheepishly, "I mean…it's the least I can do. As thanks."
She smiled at that, amused by how visibly he was trying not to fidget. "I'll look forward to it, then."
That alone seemed to undo him.
His ears turned faintly red, and he nodded a bit too quickly. "Y-yes. Good. Excellent. Then i should take my leave. I've already taken far too much of your time."
"You're sure?" Denova asked politely. "You're welcome to stay for another tea."
"No!" he blurted, then immediately froze. "…I mean-yes. I mean-no," he then close his eyes and took a deep breath "I mean I shouldn't impose any longer." He cleared his throat, mortified. "I truly appreciate your kindness, Lady Denova."
She let out a soft laugh, unable to stop herself. "You're very expressive, Your Highness."
He winced.
With one final bow he turned, and practically escaped through the door.
The moment he stepped into the hallway, all composure vanished.
"All right," he muttered to himself, breaking into a brisk walk. "Tour, simple tour, including historical sites, markets, scenic routes."
He stopped mid-step.
"…Wait."
His eyes widened.
"Famous spots for couples… riverside walks… sunset viewpoints….."
Another pause.
"Oh no."
He stared at the floor, realization slowly sinking in. "This isn't a date," he whispered. "This is not a date."
Five seconds later, he was running.
Back at the palace, servants barely had time to bow before he rushed past them, already rattling off orders.
"Prepare the best carriage! Bring maps…no, all the maps. Someone find me a guidebook. And why do we have so many romantic landmarks labeled?! Who approved this?!"
A servant blinked. "Your Highness…?"
"Never mind," he said, hands in his hair. "I'll fix it. I always do."
He stopped, breathing hard, then laughed softly to himself.
"…Still," he admitted, smiling despite everything, "I hope she enjoys it."
And with that, the prince overthinking, over-preparing, and hopelessly earnest threw himself into planning a tour that was absolutely, definitely, not a date.
The Prince's offer to tour the empire still hung in the air, a glittering temptation that left Denova feeling oddly unsettled. It was an incredible opportunity, a chance to see the world and expand her artistic horizons, but something about his intense gaze made her skin crawl. Seeking refuge, she slipped back into the garden, hoping the familiar scents of roses and lavender would soothe her racing thoughts.
And there they were. Patricia, the Head Maid, usually so composed and efficient, was kneeling beside Lowen, her fingers gently tracing the curve of his cheek. The little boy was fast asleep, his face angelic in the dappled sunlight. Denova's heart softened at the sight. There was a quiet intimacy between them, a bond that transcended their positions.
Careful not to disturb the peaceful scene, Denova stepped onto the soft grass, her silk slippers making no sound. She approached Patricia, a warm smile gracing her lips.
"Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "For everything."
Patricia looked up, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she returned the smile. "He's a sweet child, Miss Denova. It's been a pleasure."
Denova gestured towards a nearby wrought-iron table, scattered with her design sketches and pencils. "I think I'll work here for a bit, if you don't mind."
Patricia nodded, understanding immediately. She knew Denova needed the quiet focus of her work to process her thoughts. As Denova settled in, sketching out the delicate lines of a new gown, she couldn't help but glance over at Patricia and Lowen. The Head Maid's touch was so tender, so protective. It was clear she'd become deeply attached to the little boy in the short time he'd been at the manor.
"He seems to bring you a lot of joy, Patricia," Denova said softly.
Patricia's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of sadness in her eyes. "He does, Miss Denova. More than I can say. Which is why it's so hard to…" She trailed off, then sighed. "I'm resigning soon, you know."
Denova's pencil stilled. "Resigning? But why? You're the best Head Maid this manor has ever had!"
Patricia shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "It's complicated, Miss Denova. Let's just say it's time for me to follow a new path." She paused, then added with a hint of bitterness, "Besides, it's also a good way to avoid a certain… person. I've been doing my best to avoid someone lately. It's easier this way."
Denova's eyebrows furrowed. Is it Yoter? What was going on between Patricia and Yoter? She'd always assumed they were simply colleagues, but now she sensed a deeper, more tangled story.