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After Sally left, a wave of fear swept over Irene, but she held herself together. No matter what, she had to keep a safe distance between them. She walked behind him with measured steps, aware that many eyes were still fixed on her, which made her all the more cautious to avoid any situation that could be misunderstood.
Bastian was the first to speak, as if wanting to break the silence:
"This garden… this is where I grew up. I spent most of my childhood among its corners. I lost my mother early, and my father was rarely around, except occasionally at the dinner table… I was very lonely, but I always felt that every corner of this garden was my friend."
His words struck close to her heart, as though she were seeing her own reflection in him. She felt she understood him well, perhaps even sympathized with him more than she expected.
He continued, gently brushing some flowers with his fingers:
"I love flowers very much… They're beautiful on the outside, but sometimes they hide beneath that beauty thorns that may wound you if you touch them. That's why… I prefer to admire them from afar and enjoy their beauty without touching. It's amazing how we never tire of looking at them, even if we do so a thousand times… But sometimes, it's beautiful to take the risk and pluck one, even if getting it is painful… for it and for me."
He paused, then murmured almost inaudibly to himself:
"Just like you… flower of Irene."
He reached out, plucked a red rose, and walked toward Irene. She froze in place as she watched him approach. Extending his hand to her with a calm smile, he said:
"Here… Your Highness."
She bent slightly and took the rose from him. He gazed at her and said:
"I've always loved red roses… because I love the color red. And coincidentally, it's a color that suits you very well, Your Highness."
She thanked him softly, and he smiled before continuing the walk around the palace, with her keeping carefully balanced steps behind him.
Meanwhile, Sally had reached the palace, her heart restless with worry. She decided to head straight to inform Queen Elizabeth. She hurried through one of the corridors, when a sharp voice stopped her:
"Stop!"
She turned to find Anita staring at her.
"Why are you walking like that? Did you see a ghost?"
Sally apologized: "Ah… forgive me, my lady, I was just in a bit of a rush."
Anita narrowed her eyes and asked coldly: "Aren't you the maid of my brother's wife?"
"Yes, my lady."
"And what is it? Did your mistress faint or something of the sort?"
Sally hesitated before answering: "No, actually…"
Anita cut her off sharply: "Speak louder!"
Startled by her tone, Sally replied: "Lady Irene… is still in the royal palace."
Anita raised her brows in surprise: "What? What are you saying? Did you just say the royal palace?"
"Yes… the Crown Prince…" Sally paused, unsure if it was wise to continue. But she remembered that none of them liked Irene, and hiding it might harm her.
"Go on, speak!"
"We went to the royal library, and on our way back we met the Crown Prince. He wanted to show her the palace in private, and asked me to return and tell Queen Elizabeth that she would be delayed a little."
Anita forced a fake smile and said: "Impossible… You're not joking, are you?"
"No, my lady, I would never joke about such matters."
"Very well, return to your duties. I'll tell my mother myself."
"Thank you, my lady."
"Of course… now leave."
Sally bowed and left, while Anita pressed her hand to her mouth in shock. She whispered:
"I knew it! That lowborn… Is she betraying my brother now with Bastian? Is that why she attended the council? Viola will lose her mind if she hears this. I must tell her at once…" Then she rushed off toward Viola's residence.
About an hour passed, and the sun had begun to dip toward the horizon. Bastian was showing her his favorite spots in the palace, and she followed, maintaining her careful distance.
Until they reached a wide, empty corridor. He looked at her and said:
"This corridor is private. No one is allowed in at this time except by special order… You may come a little closer, Princess."
She hesitated, and though she tried to act naturally and composed, she was taken aback by his ability to read her thoughts.
"Ah… Forgive me, Your Majesty, I meant nothing. But you know… one cannot control people's tongues, and I feared I might cause you any trouble."
Bastian smiled calmly: "I don't mind."
"Excuse me?"
"I don't mind if people talk about me. Rumors have followed me my entire life, especially about such matters, so it doesn't concern me."
"I understand… but it's always best to avoid such situations."
"Even if you remain frozen in place, people will always find something to talk about… even if it's trivial."
Irene fell silent, preferring not to argue. For her, that distance was protecting her from him more than from people's gossip, for the sense of danger never left her.
Bastian smiled faintly and said: "Behind this door… is my favorite place in the palace." He opened the door and gestured for her to enter.
She stepped in cautiously, finding a wide, luxurious room with a sofa that at first seemed ordinary. But when she took another step, she noticed, on the far side, a royal bed. She froze in place, a cold shiver running through her body.
Bastian walked to the table, holding the rose from its vase, his eyes fixed on it. He said warmly:
"I've always loved red roses, as I told you since I was young… but recently, I discovered a rare flower of the iris family… called Irene."
Her tension rose as he lifted the flower and looked straight at her.
"It is beautiful on the outside, appearing delicate and elegant, but in truth it is steadfast and unyielding, despite the harsh soil it grew from… Strong in a way that inspires admiration."
Then he slowly approached her, placing the flower before her face, closing one eye, until her features seemed to merge with the blossom. Smiling, he whispered:
"Is it a coincidence that you were given this name, Princess Irene?"
Irene froze for a moment, then steadied herself and asked respectfully, avoiding his gaze:
"Your Majesty… why did you bring me here?"
Bastian gave a mysterious smile, lowering the flower slightly as he said calmly:
"I simply wanted to show you this flower… a rare blossom that shares your name. Here, take it."
He held it out to her. Irene hesitated for a moment, then extended her hand and accepted it softly, whispering:
"Thank you…"
Her eyes wandered briefly over the room before she asked with hesitation:
"Is… is this your bedroom, Your Majesty?"
He chuckled lightly and replied:
"Only sometimes… I sleep here when I need some peace."
Her unease grew, and she held the flower tightly against her chest, saying in a low but firm voice:
"But… the servants saw us enter together. Isn't that dangerous? Couldn't it be misunderstood?"
He took a small step closer, his eyes gleaming with a cold glint:
"You worry too much about what people say, Princess. As I told you before, I don't care what others think. And this is a private wing—no one will come in, no one will see us."
She stepped back and said seriously:
"Even so… forgive me, Your Majesty, but I would prefer to leave now."
He paused, then let out a short, quiet laugh:
"Very well, calm yourself… As you wish, Princess. I only wanted to give you a small gift during your visit. When I remembered I had this flower in my quarters, I brought you here."
Irene bowed slightly, her tone soft:
"I understand… Thank you, Your Majesty. But night has already fallen—I must return."
Bastian nodded, then stepped forward to open the door:
"Then, I'll escort you to the carriage."
She walked beside him in silence, while he kept a faint smile. When they reached the garden, Bastian summoned a guard to accompany Irene to the carriage.
She stopped and bowed deeply in gratitude:
"Thank you very much for the tour, Your Majesty. It was truly pleasant speaking with you."
He smiled and answered calmly:
"No, it is I who should thank you, Princess. It was a pleasure talking with you. I hope you will visit the palace again."
Irene smiled faintly and said:
"Then, I shall see you again, Crown Prince. Good night."
She bowed once more, then turned and walked away with steady steps—though for her, it felt as if she was finally breathing again.
He stood there, watching her back grow smaller until she disappeared.
And once she was out of sight, Bastian burst into hysterical laughter, his chest shaking as he muttered:
"Her expressions were exquisite—I was about to lose my mind. Lucas, you vile wretch, why is it you always get the best of everything?"
He turned, clasping his hands behind his back, his voice shifting as he murmured darkly:
"It was quite the entertaining performance indeed… Now… let's see which way things will unfold, my beautiful flower."
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