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Chapter 8 - Chapter 8: Closer, and Then Apart

The boy was breaking, but the look in his eyes wasn't.

It had been a while since Riley last dreamt of him—the same boy who trained like there was no tomorrow. The boy who endured every blow like his life depended on it. The boy who should've lost all light in his eyes, yet whose blue pupils burned with something that refused to die out.

His routine was always the same. Wake up, train, get dressed, breakfast, lessons, lunch, more lessons, more training, dinner, sleep. He was used to the harsh regimen. He still got blisters, cuts, fevers, muscle aches—but Riley could tell. None of that compared to whatever he had endured before. This, to him, was mercy.

When she dreamt of him, Riley felt his pain as if it were her own. She would wake up gasping for air, her throat burning like she had swallowed fire, or with her limbs aching from phantom bruises. It was so vivid. So real. Like she wasn't just dreaming—she was there.

It made the boy feel special to her, even though she didn't know who he was. She felt as if they shared something. A bond that couldn't be explained. One that perhaps only she knew existed.

Except... maybe it wasn't only her.

After dreaming of him more than twenty times in the last five months since arriving at the Vreisz Viscounty, Riley had managed to form a fairly clear image of him. His height, his posture, his tousled black hair, his fair skin, the way he moved—she could picture it all.

All except his face.

Somehow, that one part remained hidden, no matter how hard she tried to remember. And that frustrated her more than anything.

"You don't look well today."

Riley blinked, dragged back to the present. She was walking with the second prince through the garden, as she had been ordered to accompany him.

"I just had a bad dream," she replied, trying to brush it off. Her father had told her never to speak openly of her macht, and that warning was etched deep into her mind.

"Oh?" Prince Navelleir glanced at her. "What did you dream about?"

She eyed him—his silvery-blonde hair gleamed in the autumn light, his golden eyes watching her with more curiosity than usual, even though his posture remained casual. "I dreamt of going through brutal training that could probably kill me if it were real. It was horrible."

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Thankfully it was just a dream, or I might actually have died."

He chuckled. "What a drama queen."

She shot him a glare. "You don't understand! I swear I felt the blade cutting me, the poison burning my throat—"

"Tell me more," he said, suddenly more intrigued. "What else happened in this dream that made it feel like you were dying?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "Did you not hear what I just said? Bleeding. Poison. Sword wounds. I nearly died, Your Highness!"

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Hey. What did I say about calling me by name when we're alone?"

Riley clamped her hands over her mouth. "Oops. Sorry, Nave. Still getting used to it."

He sighed. "You speak so casually, so easily, and yet somehow always forget to call me by my name. That must be a special talent."

Riley smirked. "A unique one, obviously. Only I possess it."

As they arrived at the glasshouse, a table was already prepared for their afternoon tea.

To Riley's surprise, Nave pulled out a chair for her. He said nothing, and she wasn't sure whether it was courtesy or habit, but it was something he had never done before.

He used to get irritated just being near her.

So yes, something had shifted. Quietly. Subtly.

Riley couldn't quite put it into words, but she noticed it first in the smallest things. Prince Navelleir didn't look nearly as irritated when she was around anymore. He still didn't smile often, still carried himself like he had a thousand burdens knotted behind his spine—but he no longer scowled at her every time she offered a greeting.

And then one morning, he greeted her first.

It wasn't much—a soft "Good morning," accompanied by a glance from behind his teacup—but for someone like him, it was monumental. She blinked in disbelief, nearly forgetting to curtsy. The prince didn't seem to notice her clumsy delay, or perhaps he simply chose to ignore it.

He also now called her by name.

Not "young lady" or "you there" or any of the vague, half-dismissive labels he had used before. Just Riley. Softly. Casually—though only when they were alone. And she, in turn, was allowed to call him Nave.

A week ago, she would never have imagined this: sitting face-to-face with the second prince of the Fillemina Empire, sharing warm flowery tea in the quiet glasshouse, just the two of them.

He no longer wore that look—that slightly irritated furrow in his brow whenever she smiled for no reason. But when Riley remembered how Nave was in his early days in Vreisz mansion, she still often wondered if greetings and grins could really be that offensive. But upon meeting Nave? Maybe they were.

This afternoon tea hadn't been planned. Ramona and Sventius were called to attend a local council, leaving only the two of them behind. And it would've been rude to leave the guest unattended. So yes, Riley volunteered to accompany him.

Even though being with Nave had been a lot more comfortable now than when they first met, Riley can still feel somehow awkward now and then. Especially in the silences that come after a topic ends. Just like now. The two of them just exchange silent sips.

Riley glances towards Nave. His looks really are ethereal with that impeccable tea etiquette that felt like it come straight out of the books. Riley wonder how her usually nag teacher will react when she saw Nave. I think she might get in tears out of admiration. Riley cant help but giggling imagining her stern looking and etiquette obsessive teacher crying just by seeing Nave with his perfect manner.

"What's so funny?" Nave curls one of his eyebrows in confusion.

"Ah, well nothing." Riley hurriedly take another sip of her tea.

Nave looked at her in confusion. "You really are weird."

"I'll take that as compliment," Riley did not bother to look at his face when answering, still sipping her tea. "Oh by the way," Riley put her cup back. "I wonder if you can tell me more about your sister? You know, Princess Neverillisch."

"I see that you remember her name correctly this time." Nave commented while casually sipping his tea.

Riley face reddened a little. "Hey! How long will you keep teasing me with that."

Nave didn't answer. He just chuckled a little. Then he put his cup. "Why are you curious about Eve?"

"Well, my teachers and my father had much to told me about the crown prince, the first princess, and you. But I never heard much about the second princess." Riley shrug her shoulders while continuing: "Maybe I am just curious. Especially after hearing how much you want to leave this peaceful city of Reverie to a suffocating palace just for her."

Nave looked at Riley eyes. There is no malice whatsoever in her purple eyes. Just pure eight years old curiosity. Nave fix his posture a bit before starting. "She loves sweets," he said, staring into his teacup, his voice softer than usual. "Especially ones with fruit. And she adores flowers. Every kind. She always makes me tell her about new ones when I travel."

Riley's smile grew.

"She gets angry when I come back with bruises," he added, glancing up. "No matter how often I explain it's part of sword training. She says I'm stupid for getting hurt."

He chuckled quietly, almost fondly.

"She sounds like a cute little sister," Riley commented. Eye full of sparks.

"She is," Nave replied, his expression unreadable for a moment. "She's sick, though. That's why people don't see her. She doesn't get to attend formal events like the rest of us."

Riley expressions began to change then. Slowly. To a more grim one.

"She spent most of her days indoors. We are satisfied enough just having her be able to left her bed. But for the flower loving Eve, apparently that wasn't enough for her." Nave gaze began to move into a faraway imaginary.

Riley bit her lips a little, trying not to get too emotional. "She must be aching to go outside, right?"

Nave locked his eyes with her. "Yeah. I often caught her looking at the garden through her window with a longing gaze." His gaze somehow felt more sad than ever. "No matter how much I try to make her happy, knowing that I couldn't even bring her outside for too long, felt like I failed her already."

Just then, a drop of tear came running through Riley's cheek. Imagining a girl—smaller than her, loving flowers and sweets, too weak to even go outside daily—made her chest ache.

"You're such a crybaby," Nave muttered, though there was no venom in it. His gaze still soft, like carrying an indescribable ache.

"I know," Riley sniffled, wiping her face with her handkerchief. "I just... I can't help it."

Silence settled between them again. Not tense. Just quiet.

Around others, Prince Navelleir remained unchanged. Still cold. Still formal. Still distant.

And even when they were alone, there weren't many outward changes—except for the nicknames. But Riley noticed it anyway. That small, rare chuckle. The way he looked a little less burdened when they sat together. As if the air wasn't quite so heavy.

From Nave's point of view, it was strange.

He laughed more often around her.

Actually laughed.

It unsettled him. But it also warmed something in his chest.

He didn't mind spending another week here, despite his earlier frustration.

But peace never lasted.

News came by letter one morning. Eve's condition had worsened. Suddenly. Badly.

Nave had to leave two days earlier than planned.

He said nothing about it. He immediately inform his sudden need to go back to Liberia directly to the Viscount and also order his servants to pack and prepare for his departure. Just about three hours later, the carriage was drawn. The household stood ready to bid him farewell. The Viscount and Viscountess waited at the gate, their expressions composed.

Riley stood in the back. Silent. Unready.

The farewell had come too fast.

Her heart pounded as the realization hit her. He was really leaving.

The first and only close age friend she had.

Then she remembered.

The handkerchief.

She turned and bolted. Back through the gates. Up the steps. Into the house. Down the hall. She grabbed the neatly folded cloth she'd washed and pressed herself.

Nave looked confused when Riley run back to the mansion without any words. But he try to pay no attention to it and proceed to formally bid farewell to Vreisz couple with his impeccable trained princely smile. "Thank you for welcoming me here. It was such a pleasant stay. I definitely will inform His Majesty all the great things I experienced here in Vreisz Viscounty."

Sven look at Nave as if he needed to let go of his own son. "You are very welcome Your Highness Prince Navereill. I really appreciated you thinking highly of our humble resident. Please do visits us anytime whenever you visit Reverie. You will always be welcome here."

Nave smile. Still the same polite royal smile, only softer. "Thank you Viscount Sven. And sorry for my sudden departure. I hope this is not causing you too much trouble."

"Absolutely not, Your Highness. When Her Highness Princess Neverillisch condition is worsening, of course it is only right for you to hurriedly go back." Sven look at Nave with a fatherly eyes. One that felt foreign to Nave. "You must have been so worried. We sincerely hope Her highness will get well real soon."

Nave is used to this empty words. As if Eve can ever get perfectly well. He knows there is no malice in the Viscount words though. It somehow just felt bitter to hear the impossible. "Then, I will excuse myself."

Just when Nave turned his back and is about to get on his carriage, Riley came running and called him. "Wait, Nave!"

Sventius, Ramona, and all presents there where shocked. Oh my, how can a mere Viscount daughter called the prince so casually.

Nave turned, surprised.

She stumbled up to him. Still breathless. Then she held out a handkerchief. A beige handkerchief with an imperial crest in one corner and the letter 'N' on the opposite corner embroidered. "You lent me this... when I cried. I washed it."

A tear slipped from her eye as she extended it.

Nave's gaze softened.

Without a word, he reached for the handkerchief. He unfolded it slowly, stepped closer, and gently wiped her tear.

Then, just as quietly, he placed it back in her hand.

"Keep it," he said. "Return it to me when you're no longer a crybaby."

His voice was firm but gentle. And for the first time since they met, he smiled.

Not a smirk.

Not a practiced royal smile.

A real one.

Riley blinked in surprise.

Then he asked, almost in a whisper—but not too quiet for Riley to hear "Will you remember me when you look at it?"

She looked up at him, straight into his golden eyes.

"I will," she said, steady and true. "And I'll return it to you one day. I promise."

His smile lingered for just a moment longer.

Then he turned and stepped into the carriage.

Leaving behind only a hollow space in the air—and a beige handkerchief, cradled in Riley's hands.

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