My dear sister

'Tap! Tap!'

A soft knocking at the huge mahogany door interrupted the train of my thoughts. It was almost night. The golden light of the evening began to fade gradually as a dark veil of night wrapped everything.

I tilted my head in the direction of the door as I asked, clearing my hoarse voice, "Yes? Who is this?"

"Your Highness, Prince Dior wishes to see you. Are you well enough to meet him now, or should I ask him to return later?" Viola's concerned voice came from the other side of the door.

She already knew that I often avoided meeting Prince Dior or his mother, Queen Elina. Their sharp, piercing eyes always made me uneasy, as if they were trying to read my every thought.

However, it would be rude to refuse them every time, and today, I needed to speak with him. After a brief pause, I let out a quiet sigh and answered, "I'm perfectly fine. It would be a pleasure to meet Prince Dior. Please invite him in."

Within moments, Viola opened the door, and a tall, handsome man stepped inside. He carried himself with confidence, his posture proud and strong.

His golden hair gleamed like silk, contrasting against his deep tan, and his sharp sapphire-blue eyes—just like mine—were watchful and intense. But unlike my gaze, his eyes held a sharp and arrogant edge.

I was older by just a month but his way of talking with me was quite frank and annoying. His lips curved into a slight, magnetic smile as he bowed to me. Then, noticing my slightly disheveled state, he asked in his deep voice, "How are you, Ara? You don't look in good shape."

"Thank you for asking, Your Highness. I'm much better now. I believe a good night's rest will help me recover completely," I replied coldly, avoiding the taunt in his tone.

I gestured toward the chair beside my bed, settling against my soft pillow. "Would you like to join me for tea if you are not in a hurry?"

Dior pulled the chair closer and sat down casually. His smile deepened as he said in a playful yet formal tone, "Of course, Ara. It must be the first time you are asking me for tea. How can I say no to my dear, elder sister?"

After a little pause, he added, fixing his piercing gaze on me, "Ara, you've changed a lot in the past six months. Sometimes, it feels like I'm speaking to a different person. You are not that timid anymore."

I tensed immediately, drawing in a sharp, shallow breath. But I quickly steadied myself and smiled at him, my voice smooth and confident, "Timid? I can't remember being timid, Prince Dior. I am the royal heir, so I must behave accordingly."

Dior chuckled, clearly amused by my sudden confidence. Running a hand through his silky hair, he taunted without hesitation, "Did you hit your head, Ara?"

"Huh?"

I blinked in confusion before responding in a puzzled tone, "No. Why do you ask?"

Dior leaned back against his chair, his lips curving into a mocking smirk as he arched a brow. "Our timid little kitten has suddenly grown claws," he mused. "Be careful, Ara. Overconfidence can be dangerous."

I raised an eyebrow, my smile faltering slightly. "Strange," I replied, tilting my head. "Because if I can recall properly, you were always the one running back to your chambers in tears after every battle between us. Delusions don't suit you, Dior."

His smirk remained, but the glint in his sapphire eyes darkened. With a casual shrug, he countered, his voice laced with a quiet menace, "Ara, no matter what happens—the throne will be mine. And so will you. Don't fool yourself into thinking you can escape me."

A cold shiver ran down my spine. There was an unsettling certainty in his words, an unshakable conviction that made my chest tighten. A whisper echoed in my mind: 'It's him. It has to be him. He craves the throne just as much as Aralia did. He must be the one who is planning to kill me.'

Yet, I forced a polite smile, hiding the turmoil beneath. Twirling a strand of my long hair between my fingers, I replied lightly, "Time will tell. Neither of us can defy His Majesty's decision, can we?"

Dior reached for an apple from the fruit basket, biting into it slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. "I can," he murmured, his tone unreadable. "If I say I can go against anyone for you, will you believe me?"

His words confused me further. I searched his expression for meaning, but his sharp eyes bore into my soul, revealing nothing. The tea had already been served, its delicate fragrance filling the air, yet he hadn't spared it a glance. Instead, with an air of nonchalance, he added, "You should be careful, Ara. Wandering alone in the forest isn't safe. The attacks on you are increasing."

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips. "And yet, the royal guards haven't uncovered a single clue about the culprits. Odd, isn't it?"

Dior's smirk vanished. His sapphire eyes darkened, and a heavy silence settled between us.

"What are you implying?" he asked. His voice was calm, yet sharp as a blade. "Are you suggesting the royal guards are neglecting their duty?"

I had anticipated his reaction. Dior was one of the commanders of the royal chivalry, while my responsibility was to handle foreign affairs. The royal family ensured that each of us took care of the royal duties, preparing us for power from a young age which helped us to understand the kingdom's political, economical and social background.

I met his gaze, unwavering. "I'm saying that if the enemy can break our defenses so effortlessly and target me in broad daylight, then either the royal guards are utterly incompetent…" I paused, letting my words sink in before continuing, "Or perhaps—"

Dior's grip on the apple tightened, but he remained silent.

I tilted my head slightly, waiting for his reaction. Would he act angrily? Or would guilt darken in his eyes?

"Or perhaps?" Dior's voice was cold, his patience thinning.

I exhaled slowly, then stated with deliberate calm, "Someone from within is helping the attackers, ensuring their escape. Someone must be from the Royal family."

I held his gaze, my eyes sharp, searching for the slightest trace of fear or lies. But there was none- only a flicker of wrath, a shadow of humiliation, as if I had insulted his very honor. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, with an abrupt motion, he rose from his chair.

"Very well," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of an unspoken threat. "I will find the attackers—whether they are outsiders or someone within the royal family."

I answered with a tiny smile on my lips. "I'll be waiting for that good news, Your Highness."

Dior's expression remained unreadable, but something in his eyes gleamed with quiet amusement. Turning toward the door, he remarked casually, "But Ara… perhaps you should think wisely. Why do you have so many enemies? When everyone around you wants you dead, maybe the fault lies with you."

His words were venom wrapped in silk. He took a step forward, then paused at the threshold. Without turning back, he suggested, "Make at least one worthwhile alliance, Ara. If I stop protecting you, you won't last a day."

A soft chuckle escaped me. I arched a brow, my voice laced with mockery. "Should I be grateful to Prince Dior for his so-called protection?"

He finally turned, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. His next words came in a hushed, almost intimate whisper.

"No." His lips curved slightly, darkly. "You should stop being so stubborn and surrender to me, my dear sister. Think carefully before I lose my patience."

Before I could respond, the door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone in a suffocating silence.