First-person POV — ~2,000 words
The feast lasted far longer than I wished.
Lucian sat beside me the entire time, unbothered, composed, answering political questions with ease while occasionally turning his head to look at me — that quiet, unreadable stare that made my pulse spike every time.
I barely ate.
Amy whispered encouragement.
Victoria whispered threats (toward Lucian).
Father whispered diplomacy.
Lucian whispered nothing.
But the weight of his silence was heavier than any words.
When the feast finally ended and the nobles began drifting out, I slipped out of the hall as quietly as I could. My chest felt tight, my mind twisted with too many emotions.
I just needed air. Space. Anything.
So I headed toward the royal gardens — my refuge since childhood.
The lamps along the stone path flickered softly. Fireflies drifted lazily over the shrubs. A gentle night breeze carried the faint scent of blooming roses. The palace behind me became a distant hum.
Finally.
I could breathe again.
I walked through the familiar archway of vines, past the fountain, past the row of white lilies, until I reached my favorite spot — a small stone bench beneath a willow tree.
I sat down, rubbing my forehead.
What was happening to my life?
I was supposed to be invisible.
The youngest princess.
The quiet one.
The harmless one.
Yet today, the prince of the most powerful kingdom alive declared me his future queen.
A humorless laugh escaped me.
"If I stay here long enough," I muttered, "maybe he'll forget I exist."
"That seems unlikely."
I froze.
That voice.
Smooth, deep, amused.
I turned sharply.
Prince Lucian stepped out from behind the hedge — though something told me he hadn't come from there. He must have been watching longer than he wanted me to know.
Of course he had.
The man moved like a shadow.
He didn't wear armor, only a dark shirt and simple black trousers, sleeves rolled to his forearms. The soft light caught the sharp lines of his jaw, his dark hair, and those sapphire eyes that always looked like they were seeing too much.
I swallowed hard. "Were you… following me?"
"No," he said with a slight tilt of his head. "I was observing."
"That's the same thing."
"Not quite." He stepped closer, hands behind his back. "Following suggests secrecy. Observing suggests… interest."
"I didn't ask for your interest," I snapped before thinking.
Lucian only smiled — a small, knowing curl of his lips that made my stomach jump.
"You rarely ask for anything," he murmured. "That's part of the reason you caught my attention."
I stood from the bench instinctively, needing space.
He closed the distance effortlessly.
I stepped back.
He stepped forward.
"Stop that," I muttered.
"Stop what?"
"Moving every time I move."
"I'm simply maintaining the conversation."
"You're cornering me."
A soft hum. "Am I?"
My back brushed the willow tree.
Yes.
He was.
Lucian braced one hand against the trunk beside my head, leaning slightly — not touching me, but close enough to steal my breath.
"I'm curious," he said softly, eyes locked with mine. "Why did you run from the hall?"
"I didn't run," I lied.
"Ah." His smile widened faintly. "So you flee with dignity. My mistake."
Heat pricked my cheeks.
"I just wanted air," I said. "No one follows me here."
"I do."
"That's the problem."
He arched a brow. "Is it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because—because—!" I stammered, furious at myself.
Lucian waited, patient and infuriatingly calm.
I took a breath. "Because you're suffocating."
Something shifted in his expression — not hurt, not offended, but intrigued.
"Suffocating," he repeated slowly. "And yet you didn't ask me to leave."
"I shouldn't have to."
"True." His fingers brushed the tree bark near my cheek. "But the fact that you didn't… tells me something."
"It tells you nothing."
"It tells me," he murmured, leaning closer, "that despite your protests, part of you is curious."
My heartbeat stumbled.
Curious?
Curious about him?
Ridiculous.
But his eyes — those deep blue eyes — held mine in place.
He lowered his voice. "Tell me, Princess… why does the thought of being near me unsettle you so much?"
"Because you threatened me."
"I didn't threaten," he said smoothly. "I stated a truth."
"You said you always get what you want."
"And it's true," he answered unapologetically. "Especially when I want something badly enough."
"And what is it you want?" I whispered before I could stop myself.
His lips curved.
"You."
My breath hitched.
Before I could reply, he moved his free hand — slowly — as if giving me time to stop him. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
The touch was soft.
Too soft for someone like him.
"You look like you're about to faint," he said in a teasing tone.
"I'm not."
I was.
"A pity," he murmured. "I'd catch you."
My heart hammered against my ribs.
"What do you want from me, Lucian?" I whispered.
He leaned in, his breath brushing my cheek.
"For now?" His eyes glinted. "An honest answer."
"To what?"
"Do I truly frighten you?"
I hesitated.
He waited.
The silence stretched between us like a pulled thread.
Finally, I whispered, "Yes."
Lucian's smile was slow — frighteningly satisfied.
"Good."
I blinked. "Good?!"
"It means," he murmured, voice lowering, "you feel something."
Anger surged through me. "Fear is not—"
"Fear," he interrupted gently, "is better than indifference."
I stared at him, breath uneven.
He stepped back finally, giving me space. My knees felt weak.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, turning away.
"W-wait—tomorrow? Why?"
Lucian glanced over his shoulder, sapphire eyes gleaming.
"I'm not finished with you."
Then he disappeared into the shadows of the garden, leaving me breathless, furious, confused, and painfully aware that my life would never be the same.