Meanwhile...
The Crown Prince stared at the stack of documents on the table and then at the woman standing in front of him, "…"
He couldn't persuade her to follow him back to the capital and couldn't leave empty handed either. If he asked his father for an imperial edict to summon her, it would be admitting that he couldn't handle her on his own.
And to make matters worse, she had been parading him around in the streets. He moved his working space to the town near the saphire mines, but this woman wouldn't stay put. Always going somewhere to meddle in the affairs of others while her staff managed the Rochefort's affairs for her. Her reputation was at an all time low right now and it was dragging him down as well.
"You looked so bored yesterday so I thought some work would be a good way to get you involved in something. That's what men love to do right? Work, work, work," Celine said, showing another stack of papers across the table toward him, "My attendants don't even have time to serve me tea or meals properly anymore because they are so busy with all these papers."
"..." The Prince went through a few pages: arguments over firewood storage, candle budgets, a leaking roof, complaints over the price of fish at the market, a request for a new water well... These were the mundane affairs of some small towns in the Rochefort Duchy.
"Did you even read any of these?" The Crown Prince asked and looked up. The layer of white powder covering her face, her dark red lips, and then the blue eyeshadow around her eyes… So vain and so preoccupied with her appearance that she couldn't be bothered with the duties of her own house.
She tilted her head, "If I did, why would I be giving them to you to deal with?"
"I'm not your servant to deal with these for you," he said and tossed the papers back onto the table.
Celine took a sip from the teacup in her hand with a quiet scoff, "You are not my servant. You're not my guest. You are not my friend. You are not my lover. You are not my anything, and you still expect me to giggle and bat my eyelashes like an idiot for the Crown Prince who had lost everything except his title? You can't even keep your father's favor, and you are still trying to intimidate me?"
"..." His eyes widened, just for a second. Did someone in the palace tell her about the fight between him and his father? No, she was just making an assumption. She didn't know. His face hardened and his eyes turned cold. "If you are trying to use this scheme to make me fall for you, it will never happen. A fake. A cheap imitation of the real thing. That's what you are."
"I know your type too well, and believe me when I say that If I wanted you all for myself," she paused, "That would require you to meet a few of my standards first. Not fancying little girls would be a good place to start." She met his gaze, unimpressed, "My respect for you doesn't equal my desire for you, Your Highness. So, please, don't insult me by thinking I'd ever be desperate enough to seduce you."
He was speechless for a moment, confusion written all over his face. Did her family's influence get into her head? Did she become so power hungry that not even his title was enough for her anymore?
She placed down her cup and straightened up, "I just wanted to clear some things between us before I die. Now, I can go in peace."
He frowned, "Die?"
She showed him the royal decree from the King. Treason, conspiracy, murder, assault, the list of crimes was endless. If she didn't show up to the trial, she would be considered guilty and executed.
The Crown Prince went silent. The King was getting impatient and wanted to get rid of the problem as soon as possible. He had no intention of letting Celine escape again.
"He finally caught me," Celine chuckled bitterly, "My time is up."
"..." The Prince opened his mouth to say something, but her sudden laugh cut him off.
"This is hilarious." She leaned in, placing her palms on the table, just enough to unsettle him. "It's fake, but something tells me that you almost believed it. I've wondered about your true intentions for the past few months, and now I know for sure. How does it feel to know that we are related by blood?" Studying his expression, her half-sweet smile widened, "Shall I start calling you, my cousin dearest?"
His eyes immediately turned sharp in alert and his voice even sharper, "Don't get too full of yourself, or you will regret it. You can't touch the throne no matter how hard you try," he said, trying to suppress her in the way only he knew.
Scary, intimidating, and ruthless Crown Prince, that was what everyone knew him as. He wanted to see her flinch, tremble in fear, and cower, to remind her of her place. But would it work against someone, who had mastered the art of knowing exactly how far to push, how close she could get to the edge without falling over it?
"Oh, I'd rather sit on the lap of a dirty peasant than on that ugly chair," she said, her eyes flashing with a hint of mockery, "You should focus on protecting your own position, Your Highness. If he gets hold of me, a new heir will be born. The throne will not be yours to claim, and everything you've done will be wasted."
His fingers twitched, her words affecting him more than he wanted to admit.