Lyria's POV
The sunlight shimmered off the castle stones as I walked toward the palace gates, my heart unreasonably excited at the sight of Raven already waiting there. She stood with her arms crossed, her expression calm as always, the wind pulling lightly at her dark hair. Cara was beside her, stretching like she was preparing for a battle instead of escorting nobles.
When Raven saw me, she gave me a small nod—simple, polite, emotionless… yet my heart flipped anyway.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Y-yes," I answered a little too quickly. "Let's go."
We walked together to the outer city gate where a carriage decorated with blue and gold stopped just as we arrived. Two identical figures stepped out, both tall, elegant, and wearing expressions that screamed we believe we are better than everyone else.
The twins.
The boy, Prince Leonhart of Ardellum, had slicked golden hair and sharp green eyes that scanned the place with boredom. His sister, Lady Leora, had the same green eyes, but hers sparkled with a cruel sort of amusement—like she was constantly looking for someone to toy with.
Behind them came their parents, smiling politely.
I stepped forward and bowed respectfully. "Welcome to our kingdom. I'm Princess Lyria. It's a pleasure to host you."
Their mother bowed her head slightly. "We are honored, Your Highness."
Leonhart didn't bow—he simply smirked and said, "So this is the princess we heard so much about."
Rude already.
Leora curtsied with exaggerated grace. "It's lovely to meet you, Princess. I'm sure this kingdom will be… entertaining."
I kept my smile polite and forced. "I hope your stay will be pleasant."
But then—
Leora's eyes drifted past me… toward Raven.
And her entire expression changed.
Her eyes lit up, her posture straightened, and she placed a delicate hand over her chest.
"Oh my… and who is this?"
I turned around and saw her looking at Raven.
Raven wore a loose black shirt and black pants. Her sword moved with her every step. Her short black hair swayed in the breeze, with strands covering her face. Her golden eyes gleamed in the sunlight, and her sharp gaze and serious features made her dangerous and irresistible.
Raven blinked, confused.
Kara intervened and said " I'm captain kara . and she hunter Riven and we serve as the Princess's escorts for today ."
Leora's lips curled into a sly smile. "Raven… what a beautiful name."
She stepped closer, far too close, her gaze openly admiring. "And a beautiful and handsome woman, too."
My stomach dropped.
No. No, no, no.
Kara's eyebrows shot up. Raven simply stared, expression unreadable.
"If you require anything," Leora continued, lowering her voice, "you may ask me. I'll take good care of you."
Raven stepped back politely. "Thank you, but I don't need anything , I'm here to protect the princess ."
She turned her attention away—calm, indifferent, unaffected.
But I was not unaffected.
I felt heat rise in my chest—sharp, uncomfortable. Jealousy. Ugly and sudden.
I swallowed it down. I can't cause problems. Not for Father. Not for the kingdom.
"We should begin the tour," I said quickly. "The market district is lively at this hour."
Leora gave Raven one last lingering look before finally returning to her brother.
The city streets buzzed with life—vendors calling out prices, colorful fabrics waving in the wind, the smell of spices and fresh bread mixing in the air. I loved this place.
But the twins…
The twins were a study in contrasts, each expressing their impressions of the bustling market in their own unmistakable way. Leonhart, with his booming voice and unfiltered opinions, took in every detail with sharp judgment. He strode confidently through the narrow aisles, his eyes scanning the stalls as he declared, "This market is smaller than ours," his tone carrying a mix of disdain and disbelief. His gaze then shifted to the glittering displays, and he scoffed, "These jewels look cheap," as if the craftsmanship and value were beneath his notice. Not stopping there, he wrinkled his nose at the unfamiliar foods laid out on woven mats and wooden tables, asking loudly, "Do people really eat this here?" His words echoed through the crowded space, drawing curious glances from the vendors and shoppers alike.
Meanwhile, Leora moved through the market with an entirely different energy. Unlike her brother's loud critiques, she was subtle and deliberate in her actions. Every few minutes, she would pause and turn around, her eyes seeking out Raven with a soft, inviting smile. Her eyelashes fluttered gently, casting a delicate shadow over her cheeks as she found any excuse to close the distance between them. Whether it was a casual step to the side or a slight lean in conversation, Leora's gestures were infused with a quiet charm, a silent language of affection and intrigue. Her presence seemed to soften the harshness of the market's chaos, weaving a thread of warmth and connection amid the noise.
Together, the twins painted a vivid picture: Leonhart, the outspoken critic, and Leora, the tender companion, each revealing a different facet of their personalities as they navigated the unfamiliar world around them. Their contrasting behaviors highlighted not only their individual characters but also the complex dynamics that shaped their relationship with each other and with Raven.
Raven didn't respond. She didn't move closer. She didn't even seem to notice.
But I noticed everything.
Leonhart's voice rang out from the gemstone stall, cutting through the hum of the market like a sharp blade. "Princess Lyria," he called, his tone both commanding and teasing, "come look at these. They might suit you." His words carried the weight of familiarity, as if he expected me to drop everything and rush to his side.
I approached cautiously, my eyes flickering to the array of sparkling jewels laid out before us. Leonhart reached out and held a necklace aloft, its delicate chain shimmering under the sunlight. He angled it toward me, clearly anticipating a reaction of admiration or awe. "It's lovely," I said, keeping my voice soft and polite, careful not to offend.
But Leonhart wasn't finished. With a smug smile curling at the corner of his lips, he leaned in just enough to murmur, "Not as lovely as I am." The confidence in his voice was almost theatrical, as if he were performing for an invisible audience.
I nearly choked on my breath, caught off guard by his boldness. Beside me, Cara let out a snort so loud and unexpected that she nearly shattered the illusion of her knightly composure. The sound echoed around us, drawing a few amused glances from nearby shoppers.
I chose to ignore Leonhart's boastful remark, turning my attention instead to Raven. Her quiet presence was a welcome contrast to the twins' loud antics, grounding me in the moment as the market's vibrant chaos swirled around us.
But I froze when I saw Leora standing too close to her again.
Leora reached out—touching Raven's arm.
"Your eyes… they are striking," she whispered.
Raven blinked down at the hand on her arm.
"…Thank you," she said flatly, then gently removed Leora's hand without a hint of interest.
My chest tightened with a mix of relief and anger.
Leora shot me a triumphant look as if saying,
Did you see that? I can touch her and you can't.
My fists clenched at my sides.
But I smiled—because I had to.
The afternoon sun dipped low, casting a warm golden glow over the riverbank as we led the nobles toward a stunning pavilion nestled just beside the gently flowing water. The pavilion's wooden roof, crafted with intricate beams and delicate carvings, stretched overhead, its shadows dancing gracefully across the shimmering surface of the river. The soft rustle of leaves mingled with the distant murmur of water, creating a serene backdrop that seemed almost too perfect for the gathering.
Inside, the air was filled with the enticing aroma of freshly baked bread, ripe fruit, and roasted meat, carefully arranged on polished wooden tables by attentive servants who moved with quiet efficiency. The nobles settled comfortably, their laughter and conversation blending with the natural symphony around us.
Leonhart chose the seat beside me, his posture radiating confidence and an unmistakable desire to capture my attention. His eyes gleamed with pride as he launched into tales of his prowess with the sword, recounting daring duels and flawless victories. He spoke of his vast wealth, the sprawling kingdom he ruled, and the ambitious plans he nurtured for the future—each boast delivered with the flair of a seasoned storyteller eager to impress.
I listened, nodding politely at the right moments, offering the occasional smile to encourage his monologue. Yet beneath my composed exterior, a wave of exhaustion and frustration surged. The urge to escape, to plunge into the cool river waters and wash away the stifling atmosphere, grew stronger with every word he uttered. Despite the beauty surrounding us, I felt trapped in a gilded cage of expectations and empty boasts, longing only for a moment of genuine connection or silence.
Meanwhile—
Leora sat across the pavilion glaring at me while trying to engage Raven.
"So, Raven," she purred, chin resting delicately on her fingers. "Do you have someone special in your life?"
Raven didn't even look up while watching around. "No."
Leora brightened. "Then you wouldn't mind if someone pursued you?"
"I would mind," Raven said simply.
Leora froze. "W-why?"
"Because I don't want to be pursued , and i'm too busy to be pursued ."
I nearly burst out laughing.
Kara actually choked on her drink.
Leora pouted, offended—but she didn't give up.
She leaned forward more determinedly.
"Well… surely you must admire someone."
Raven paused.
My heart stopped.
"There is someone I respect," she finally said.
Leora's face lit up.
Mine went cold.
"Who?" she whispered breathlessly.
Raven lifted her head—and looked at…
Me.
I nearly dropped my cup.
"The Princess," Raven said plainly. "I respect her greatly
My heart exploded. My face burned so hot I was certain the sun itself envied me.
Leora blinked in disbelief. "…Her?"
Raven nodded. "Yes."
I couldn't breathe.
But then—
" as a leader , she is a good person and will be great Queen in the future ."," Raven added calmly, unaware of the destruction she had just caused inside my chest. "And as a kind person."
My heart rose…
then fell…
crashing straight through the floor.
Of course.
Of course Raven meant that.
Of course she didn't mean anything more.
Leora smirked, victorious again, as if Raven's clarification reset the entire situation in her favor.
We began our tour by leading the nobles through the sprawling training grounds, where the rhythmic clang of swords meeting shields echoed in the air. Young warriors practiced with fierce determination, their movements sharp and precise beneath the watchful eyes of seasoned instructors. The scent of freshly turned earth mingled with the metallic tang of steel, grounding the scene in raw, unfiltered energy.
From there, we moved to the temple courtyard, a sacred space bathed in soft sunlight filtering through ancient stone arches. The air was thick with the faint fragrance of incense, and the quiet hum of whispered prayers seemed to settle over the marble tiles like a gentle veil. Statues of revered deities stood sentinel, their carved faces serene and timeless, offering a stark contrast to the lively bustle of the training grounds.
Finally, we arrived at the fountain square, a vibrant heart of the city where crystal-clear water danced and sparkled beneath the midday sun. The fountain's intricate sculptures depicted mythical creatures, their stone forms alive with artistry and history. Around the square, merchants and townsfolk mingled, their voices rising in a cheerful chorus that filled the air with life.
Throughout the entire procession, Leonhart never ceased his boasting. His voice carried over the hum of the surroundings as he recounted tales of his unmatched skill with the blade, his vast riches, and the grandeur of his kingdom. Each story seemed more exaggerated than the last, delivered with a self-assured grin that refused to fade. Meanwhile, Leora flitted around the group like a playful breeze, her laughter light and teasing as she directed flirtatious glances toward anyone who would catch her eye, her charm effortlessly weaving through the crowd.
As their unrelenting performances unfolded, I felt my patience fray and my sanity slip away piece by piece. The beauty of the places we visited blurred beneath the weight of their ceaseless chatter and antics, leaving me desperate for a moment of quiet respite amid the chaos.
As we approached the grand central fountain, its waters sparkling beneath the afternoon sun and casting shimmering reflections on the surrounding marble, Leora's eyes locked onto Raven with renewed determination. The playful smile that had danced on her lips all day shifted into something sharper, more insistent.
"Raven, walk with me," she said, her hand reaching out swiftly toward Raven's wrist, as though claiming possession rather than asking permission.
But Raven's reaction was immediate and firm. She pulled her arm away before Leora's fingers could even graze her skin. "I'm sorry, but I can't," she said quietly, her voice steady and unwavering.
Leora's brow furrowed, disbelief flashing across her face. "You can't?" she repeated, as if the very idea of refusal was foreign and unacceptable.
Raven's gaze didn't waver. "I'm on duty," she replied simply. "I stay with the Princess."
In that moment, the jealousy that had gnawed at me all day—the uneasy, burning ache that made my chest tighten—softened and transformed into a warm, tender sensation. My heart fluttered in a way I hadn't expected, a delicate thrill that spread through me like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Leora's eyes narrowed, her glare sharp and furious, as if blaming me for Raven's rejection. The silent accusation hung heavy in the air between us.
I met her fury with nothing but a calm, knowing smile—one that said without words that Raven's loyalty was mine, and that no amount of Leora's charm or persistence could change that truth.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in a breathtaking palette of gold and soft pink hues, we began escorting the nobles back to their guest villa. The fading light bathed the world in a warm, gentle glow, making the marble paths and manicured gardens shimmer with an almost magical radiance. The air was heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine and the distant murmur of the central fountain, creating a serene backdrop for our procession.
The nobles expressed their gratitude as we walked, their voices a mixture of genuine appreciation and polite formality. Some words carried warmth and sincerity, while others felt rehearsed, like the courteous phrases of those accustomed to courtly etiquette rather than heartfelt thanks.
Leonhart, ever composed and dignified, paused before me and offered a slight bow, his eyes reflecting a quiet respect. "Princess Lyria," he said with measured grace, "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."
I returned his gesture with a courteous nod, maintaining the calm poise expected of me, though my mind wandered briefly to the events of the day and what tomorrow might hold.
Leora, however, diverted her attention away from me and instead faced Raven. Her tone was softer, almost coaxing, as if trying to bridge a distance that had stubbornly grown between them. "Goodnight… Raven," she said, her voice laced with a hopeful note. "I hope we can speak again tomorrow."
Raven's reply was cool and detached, delivered with impeccable politeness but stripped of any warmth or invitation. "Goodnight."
She offered no further glance, no lingering look to suggest interest or openness. The finality in her demeanor was unmistakable.
Leora turned and walked away, her steps sharp and her expression tight with frustration. It was clear that her efforts to connect with Raven had been met with cold resistance, and the irritation simmering beneath her composed exterior betrayed the sting of rejection. The fading light seemed to mirror the closing of that chapter, leaving a quiet tension hanging in the twilight air.
The moment the nobles vanished through the grand doors of the villa, a heavy breath escaped me, as if I had been holding it for far too long. The tension that had knotted my shoulders began to unravel, allowing a fragile sense of relief to settle over me.
Cara stretched her arms wide, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Well, that was torture," she declared, her voice light but dripping with exhaustion.
I echoed her sentiment with a weary sigh. "You can say that again," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the day pressing down on me.
Raven's gaze shifted toward me, her eyes calm and observant. "You seem tired," she remarked gently, her tone carrying an unexpected softness.
"I… am," I confessed, the admission slipping out more easily than I expected.
"Then rest," she said quietly, the warmth in her voice wrapping around me like a comforting cloak. "You did well today."
Her words struck a chord deep within me, the kindness in her voice almost making my knees weaken. For a fleeting moment, I felt vulnerable, exposed to the gentle power of her presence.
Cara, ever perceptive, caught the flush rising to my cheeks and nudged me sharply with an amused, wicked grin. I shot her a warning glare, silently begging her to keep her teasing to herself.
We began our walk back toward the palace, the soft glow of lanterns lining the path casting long shadows on the cobblestones. Though a carriage awaited us—a more comfortable and quicker option—I chose to walk. Each step was an opportunity to linger in Raven's company, to savor the rare closeness we shared.
Raven walked beside me, her pace steady and unhurried, her presence a quiet anchor in the cool evening air. She seemed unaware of the tempest she had stirred within me today—the jealousy that flared when I saw another's hand brush hers, the dizzying rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm my senses.
She did not notice the quickening of my heartbeat with every glance, nor the way my thoughts spun endlessly around her.
Yet, as long as she remained by my side, even if only as a friend, that was enough. For now, that fragile connection was a balm to my restless soul, a small light in the gathering dusk.