Before replying, Lael tilted her head ever so slightly and lifted her chin, as if to look more closely into the prince's eyes.
Axiel, who had only moments earlier fixed his gaze once again on her pale shoulders and neck, raised his eyes. When their gazes met once more, his brows lifted faintly.
The moment he saw the expression on her face, a pang of melancholy stirred within his chest.
He had always known —and always seen— that the eyes turned toward him carried respect, admiration, and a readiness to obey, yet all of them were tinged with fear and unease. Showing him respect, offering obedience— those had always been obligations.
But the feelings he found in Lael's eyes were far from that.
The first thing he saw in those brown depths was an intense yearning. He could sense that the source of this yearning was pure affection, and realizing that the only thing the young woman — whom he had met mere minutes ago— desired from him was this, became the reason for the heaviness in his heart.
Withdrawing his hand from her hair, he gently brought it to her cheek. When he felt Lael lean ever so slightly into his touch, he smiled.
"You have such pure beauty, and yet no one has ever cherished it— how tragic."
The moment Lael felt the prince's warm hand on her cheek, a wave of heat wrapped around her entire body. It wasn't only that his thumb caressed her cheek and the freckles just beneath her eyes— it was as if he were embracing her outright.
"I can give you everything you desire."
For a while, she allowed the attraction between them to drown out reason. But when those words escaped between his lips, Lael slowly drew back.
This time, her gaze fell to the hem of her dress. She swallowed, trying to ease the dryness in her throat, before finally giving her reply to the prince's offer.
"Ah, my prince... There is no need to grant me precious gifts or large sums of money— serving you is an honor," she said.
Lael couldn't even imagine what punishment would follow if she refused; of course, she had no choice but to accept.
When no reply came, she lifted her head to look at him again. But the expression she met made her furrow her brows.
The prince was watching her with a faintly displeased look, his lips parting and closing a few times. Has she made a mistake somewhere? Panic rippled through her chest, and she tried to change the subject.
"Umm… Does becoming your personal tailor mean I must move out of my own household?"
The prince's answer came swiftly. "Yes."
As Lael tried to swallow the tension that had risen between them, she let out a faint sound, fumbling for words.
"Ah… Leaving my household may be difficult. Would it be possible for me to serve in this position without moving to the palace?"
At her question, the prince's stern expression softened just a little.
"That would be difficult for you. Do you think you could manage with no more than four hours of sleep a day? Even then, matching my schedule would already give you very little rest. You'd only be making things harder for yourself," he replied.
Lael shook her head in refusal.
"It doesn't matter! I'm used to having little time to rest."
Her answer seemed not to please the prince; his brows furrowed again as he asked sharply,
"Is your household you don't wish to leave truly so valuable in your eyes?"
Though Lael couldn't quite understand why he was so curious about her, she saw no harm in answering. This time, she responded with a faint smile.
"Leaving Freedom Garden would mean separating myself from the recognition my artistry has gained among the people. I don't want to see the reputation I've worked so hard to build be diminished. Beyond showcasing your beauty alone, my only wish is to bring out the beauty in everyone who comes to me...
...I wanted to come to the palace to break people's prejudice against art. By sewing a dress for the royal family, I thought I could make my name known to the public and reach more people. But if I serve you permanently, people will no longer see me as the garmentmaker of Freedom Garden, but as the royal tailor. I don't want my position to overshadow my goals."
Lael's answer softened the expression of the prince with each word. The fact that she was smiling as she spoke, her eyes shining under the weight of so many emotions, was nearly inspiring; if she went on any longer, the prince might almost envy her love for her craft.
"I see," he said simply.
Then he stepped away from the window and began pacing the room. Watching his steps, Lael finally managed to pull her eyes from the prince and truly take in the room they were in.
She realized they had quickly entered another residence after leaving the queen's side; even the servants had struggled to keep up, and since none of them had followed inside, this had to be the prince's personal quarters.
It was a chamber so draped in blacks that not even the light spilling in through the windows —where golden-beaded curtains swayed and clinked softly— could brighten it fully.
Moving through the room in his black attire, the prince seemed almost to glide through the shadows. Golden embellishments adorned the pillars and cushions, the quilt of a floor bed glimpsed a few meters away behind sheer drapes, and the trinkets arranged on a narrow table pressed against the wall.
In this chamber touched with nobility, every piece was chosen with care, each corner bearing the weight of the prince's presence and rank.
As Lael followed his steps, her gaze shifted to the low platform across from the bed. Hanging from the ceiling to the floor in front of the window there was a sheer red curtain, its hem weighted with golden jewels so that it fell straight, casting the shadow of a small, low table behind it.
The prince was walking straight there. With only a few strides he stepped onto the platform, pushed the curtain aside with his hand, and picked up the pipe lying on the little table, sliding it between his long fingers.
Lael, who had followed without a sound, noticed how the light of the gas lamps —lit now that dusk had settled— slipped through the window and touched the prince's eyes. She remembered the crimson and golden waves she had glimpsed in them not long ago.
While he bent over his table to fill the pipe with its herbs, Lael began a conversation more intimate than she had intended.
"I don't think I have ever seen color of your eyes before. Truthfully, I can't say I've ever seen a noble this closely, either… But if all nobles' eyes are as precious as their nobility, I would have wished to see them sooner."