Adelheid stared at the King, utterly confused. "What do you mean, Your Majesty?"
King Zamiel didn't answer right away.
Instead, he turned on his heel, and moved toward the towering bookshelf with the kind of grace only royalty seemed to possess.
His steps were soundless on the polished floor, the long hem of his cloak trailing behind him.
His index finger skimmed the aged spines of several books, leather-bound and worn with time.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Adelheid shifted on her foot, a frown knitting her brows. Why such a strange question? It was very unusual, definitely not one she'd been expecting.
"Adelheid."
Her name, spoken in his rich voice, cut through the silence. The informality in which he'd said it made her shoulders tense.
He still didn't turn.
His fingers had stopped moving, paused on the spine of a deep green book. His head tilted slightly, as if thinking.
Then, at last, he turned around.
And a smile curved his lips.
It wasn't a warm smile. It wasn't cold either. It was gentle. Though, it barely reached his eyes.
The flickering candlelight bathed him in gold, casting a soft halo along the angles of his face. His pale blonde hair brushed just to the nape of his neck. Beneath the golden glow of the candlelight, it almost seemed silver at the edges.
His features were well-defined—high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a strong, elegant jawline. His skin was smooth, pale, but not sickly, carrying the grace of someone who had been born into power.
Zamiel's gaze rested on her.
He studied her, not the way a man looked at a woman. He looked at her the way one looked at a portrait from a lifetime ago.
"You look like someone I once knew." He finally spoke.
Adelheid blinked. "Someone you knew?"
His gaze drifted away, settling to a goblet on the table beside the window. He poured himself a drink from a decanter etched with emerald.
"Yes."
Then, finally, he spoke the name. "Lady Yilda Montclair."
Adelheid's heart stuttered. The name was like a punch to the chest.
Her mouth went dry.
That was her sister.
Her fingers curled at her sides.
She had been so young when Yilda passed. Just a little girl in frilly dresses who'd stared at her older sister with round, admiring eyes. Yilda had been like sunlight—beautiful, poised, impossible to ignore. People adored her. Their parents had pinned every dream and expectation on her shoulder.
And then, just like that, she was gone.
Adelheid's mind reeled
Why was he bringing her up?
What did Yilda have to do with any of this?
Zamiel stepped away from the table, moving toward a far corner of the room where a tall, ornate mirror stood– its glass perfectly polished.
He stopped in front of it, then turned his head slightly.
"Come."
She hesitated.
"Come, Adelheid." He spoke again, his voice calm.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Adelheid forced herself to move.
Zamiel didn't look at her. He simply stood behind her, tall and composed, close enough for her to feel the heat of his presence, but far enough to respect her dignity.
"Look." He said.
She lifted her eyes to the mirror.
Her own reflection stared back–wide dark eyes, pale skin, and full lips pressed together in a thin line.
And then his voice, right behind her ear, cut through the short silence.
"The eyes." He whispered, the words brushing the back of her neck like the touch of a ghost.
She flinched, not visible–but inside, her spine stiffened
His hand lifted, hovering by her face in the mirror.
"They are the same."
Was he referring to her sister?
He shifted his arm closer, not quite touching her, but gesturing toward the mirror.
"The nose. The chin."
Adelheid's breath hitched as he leaned in slightly from behind, his gaze focused solely on the reflection.
"The hair."
And then—
"The lips." He added, his tone quieter now.
Her heart stuttered and she immediately took a small step to the side, putting some distance between them.
"Your Majesty." She began, voice trembling despite her composure, but she yielded herself to stay firm. "How do you know my sister?"
Zamiel stilled.
When he turned to her again, his expression had changed. The gentleness was gone.
For a moment, silence stretched between them, the only sound being the faint crackling from the fireplace.
Then, at last, he spoke.
"We were in love."
Adelheid's breath caught in her throat.
She stared at him. In love?
"I loved her." He said again. "And she loved me."
She frowned.
Her sister and the King were.. lovers?
Her sister?
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came.
Zamiel chuckled. "Of course, you didn't know. No one did."
He set the goblet down with a soft clink.
"Back then, your family hadn't yet risen to their current rank. Your sister was not considered noble enough to be seen beside the throne."
He smiled again, but it was tired.
"The court mocked her. Called her a climber. Accused her of using me to secure her status–even before I formally introduced her. So we kept our love private. Until she.."
He breathed in.
Adelheid's throat tightened. All her life, she'd only heard people speak of Yilda as soft– and ideal. No one had ever told her this part of the story.
"You were just a child back then." Zamiel added, looking at her again.
She creased her brows.
"I.. was in my teenage years, Your Majesty."
He offered her a small smile. "I'm quite older than you think. That's why it feels as if you were so young, even then. Forgive me."
Adelheid didn't respond. Her eyes were locked on his face.
How old was he?
He didn't look old. If anything, he looked like a man three, maybe four years her senior.
For a brief moment, the firelight caught his features in a way that made him look.. distant. As if he were seeing something, or someone, not in the room.
Then, before she could think too much of it, his face changed. The sadness was sudden, subtle, but unmistakable.
And before she could react, he turned away sharply, his broad shoulders hitching.
Adelheid froze.
Was something wrong?
Finally, she heard the slow inhale of his breath. He turned back to her, and now the sadness was gone, instead, there was a small, polite smile on his lips.
"Forgive me." He said, his tone carefully composed. "I didn't mean to keep you here so long."
Adelheid blinked, pulled back to reality.
Right–her family. They were waited in the East Chamber.
But—
"Your Majesty."
He paused. "Yes?"
The words burned her tongue.
"If you loved my sister–" She paused. "Why then.. did you send me a marriage proposal?"