ᏆᏙ
As I predicted, Mercie told Esma and several other servants not to disturb our conversation. Now the servants are quite far from the two of us. Esma deliberately tightened her grip on my hand with her sharp nails. Brahms's body is quite sensitive, so it feels quite painful.
"I won't fall, Mercie, you don't have to hold me so tightly," I joked, smirking at her.
Mercie growls softly under her breath and lets go of her grip as if I'm a speck of dirt. She wipes her hands. Then flips her brown hair and smirked wickedly at me.
"What's the matter, 𝘉𝘳𝘢𝘩𝘮𝘴? It seems like there's something wrong with that pea brain of yours while you're sleeping for days,"
"There's nothing wrong with my head. I'm just not afraid of you anymore,"
"Tch,"
Her dark sapphire eyes glint darkly at me. She stopped walking, and so do I.
"You're going to regret saying that,"
"Yeah?" I crossed my hands. "What are you going to do? are you going to put centipedes next under my pillow? or telling mother and father another blatant lie?"
"Brahms!"
Her mask is completely shattered. A ferocious expression that reminds me of my sleep-paralysis monster, or a wild feral animal. She looked like she's going to tackle me, but of course, there's a couple of servants nearby. Mercie bites her lip while glaring up at me.
I only smile ignorantly at her.
"Hm? What made my beautiful sister make an expression like a witch? Did I offend you in any way?"
Mercie didn't say anything. I thought she's given up, but no. Her murderous aura disappeared, replaced with a gleaming smile. She took a step closer towards me, so close that I could feel her breathing on my chin. I raised an eyebrow at her, curious of her next move. Her position now is back to back with the servants.
"Kyaa—!"
I widen my eyes when she punched her own cheek, then she fell to the ground. Her scream is so strident, probably everyone inside the mansion could hear. I kneeled down, finding her smirking viciously before going back screaming and wailing in pain. Several servants running towards us, and I couldn't help but stare at her in disbelief.
This 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 bitch.
.
.
.
On this beautiful morning— Inside the Astille palace, this charming Prince went to the training ground after finishing breakfast. His most trusted royal guard plus his best friend walked alongside His Highness.
"How do you feel about 'it'?" The royal guard—Ridley, asked.
𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘈𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘷𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴, or known as Prince Lucean, looked at his most trusted friend with a confused expression.
"'it'?"
"You know what I meant," Ridley chuckles.
Lucean looked up to the blue sky, then sighed.
"I don't know what kind of response you want to hear from me. I'm just following His Majesty's orders,"
Ridley playfully bumps his shoulders to Luce's.
"Come on, just tell me. His Majesty ordered you to choose a consort on your 20th birthday, so tell me honestly about your feeling,"
Prince Lucean will be twenty-years-old in two weeks. The grand party is already arranged for weeks, invitations already sent from all around the nation, including neighbouring countries. The King wanted Luce to choose a consort during the birthday party. Words about the Prince going to pick a consort on his birthday party become a hot topic this week.
The King ordered Luce to do this is because— His Highness is incredibly ill.
His days are short, and his wish is to see his own son fall in love.
Prince Lucean sighed as he frustratedly ruffled his own raven-coloured hair.
"I— well, it's just that father wants me to fall in love. And it's not like I'll fall in love with someone at first sight later at the party. I just don't want to disappoint him,"
Ridley laughs. "You love your father so much that you're worried about disappointing him rather than getting upset over His Majesty being spontaneous. That's what I like about you Luce,"
He gave friendly pats on the shoulder. Lucean only huffed.
"I'm just hoping everything went well later at the party,
"It will,"
"How do you know?" Lucean raised one of his eyebrows while flashing a smirk.
Ridley grins.
"Gut feeling,"