Olessia couldn't understand why Kaive wanted her to help organize a festival she knew absolutely nothing about.
The moment he mentioned it, she quickly turned down the offer, shaking her head before he could even finish explaining. But her refusal didn't sit well with him, because Kaive wasn't the type to accept no easily.
"You don't have any choice," Kaive said firmly.
Olessia stared at him, she looked stunned. This was madness. She didn't know the traditions of this kingdom, didn't understand its customs, its rituals, or even what this festival represented. Yet he wanted her to handle the arrangements?
"I don't know anything about this place, His Royalty," she said honestly, hoping he would see reason.
"Black-haired," Kaive called softly.
He rose from the bed with slow, deliberate movements and began walking toward her. Olessia felt her heartbeat quicken with every step he took. She didn't know whether it was fear, anticipation, or the strange pull she felt every time he looked at her.
His intense gaze held her in place as he approached, and for a moment she wondered why he was coming so close… and what exactly he expected from her.
"Is that your real reason for refusing what I demand? Because you don't understand my traditions?" he asked, feeling curious to know the reason she turned down the offer fastly.
Olessia swallowed hard, because she knew the answer. As much as she genuinely wished to learn more about this kingdom she had somehow become tangled in, she couldn't allow herself to get too close to Kaive.
He wasn't just any man, he was the ruler of this land, a figure people spoke of with both fear and admiration.
What would they say if they saw her spending so much time with him? An outsider, constantly beside their king? Especially when the rumors were already strange enough that he rarely showed interest in women, that he was celibate, training himself like a monk, untouched and untouchable. And yet… she was always with him.
They shared dinner together in uncomfortable silence, the moments in her room when he appeared unannounced. Even in his room, like right now as he stood so close.
It didn't matter how she tried to avoid him, somehow Kaive continued to draw her into his world, pulling her deeper into the very place she feared getting attached to.
He was now very close to her, so close she instinctively placed her hands on his chest to push him back. But he didn't move an inch. Her fingers barely pressed against the warmth of his skin when she regretted it, realizing how bold the gesture seemed.
"Why do I feel like there's something you're not telling me?" he asked. His voice was low, and suspicious.
Olessia swallowed. She couldn't tell him the truth. Her throat tightened, and all she could manage was a broken stammer.
"I–I want to leave," she whispered, attempting to step around him.
But Kiave moved faster. His hand closed around her arm and pulled her toward him, their bodies inches apart. Their lips were so close they could feel each other's breath brushing their skin. Her heart thundered as she became trapped in the intensity of his golden eyes. For a moment, the world felt utterly still.
A sudden knock shattered the tension.
Olessia blinked, managing to pull back slightly, but Kiave's grip didn't fully release her.
"His Royalty Ziven requests your presence, His Royalty Kiave," came the voice of Hakon, Ziven's personal guard.
Kiave finally stepped back, though his eyes remained fixed on her, burning with unspoken questions.
But then Kiave turned away, breaking the tension. He picked up his robe from the chair, and Olessia watched silently as he slipped it on. When he finished tying the sash, he faced her again.
"Have dinner with me when I'm back tonight," he said simply.
She felt her stomach tightened, because this was exactly what she feared… spending too much time with him, attracting rumors, inviting eyes and gossip she didn't want. Before she could form a response, Kiave walked out, closing the door behind him.
Olessia released a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She moved to the chair and sat down heavily. A small table stood before her, she rested her head on it for a moment, trying to steady her thoughts. When she finally lifted her gaze, a sketch of her lying on the table caught her attention.
It made her felt unease, and weird. Yes, he had mentioned drawing her earlier today, even though he felt no to, but seeing so many sketches… so many versions of her face, it felt even stranger. She flipped through the pages, staring at the fresh drawings.
"Wow," she murmured, genuinely impressed. "He's really good."
Kiave was indeed a talented artist. Attending the Central Institution of Art had clearly shaped him, and Olessia found herself quietly stunned by his skill.
After a few minutes in Kiave's room, Olessia suddenly realized she wasn't supposed to still be there. She had only meant to glance at the sketches, yet the drawings had completely pulled her in. It wasn't just her face captured on the pages… Kiave had drawn flowers, landscapes, and people she had never seen before.
Each page revealing a side of him she hadn't expected. That was what kept her rooted longer than she intended.
Finally, she stood up and slipped out of his room, returning to her own. She needed to bathe and prepare for the dinner Kiave demanded. After bathing, Randa was already waiting with Olessia's dress draped over her arms, ready to dress her as always.
"Don't worry, Randa. I always tell you I can dress myself," Olessia said as she rubbed cream onto her skin and slipped into her underwear.
"But I…"
"No buts," Olessia cut in gently, taking the dress from her. She slid it on and walked to the mirror, smoothing the fabric before murmuring, "Perfect."
It was a simple dress, nothing too serious, and that was exactly why she liked it. With a final breath, she left the room, Randa trailing quietly behind her.
"It seems His Royalty Kaive has taken an interest in you," Randa whispered, quickly covering her mouth as though the walls themselves might be listening.
Olessia froze. This was exactly what she feared. Spending time with Kiave… whether in the dining hall, in her room, or even in his was already risky. Now the palace staff were beginning to talk, weaving assumptions into rumors, rumors into stories. And once a story started in a place like this, it spread faster.
She opened her mouth to correct Randa, to insist that nothing was going on between her and Kiave. That he was simply unpredictable, demanding, and difficult to refuse. But before a single word could escape her lips, someone else spoke first.
"What nonsense did you just spit out from your mouth?"
The voice came from behind them, loud and angry enough to make Randa jump. Olessia turned slowly, her heart thudding as she wondered who had overheard, and what they might say next.