A story about a prince and his pretty consort presumptive.
Crown Prince Raffe, as the only son of High King Alizade and sole heir to the High Throne of the Ruemri Empire, is bound to fulfill one important duty for the crown. Even if that duty involv...
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"BUT why can't you just accept these flowers? Come on, this is such a happy occasion and you're making a grumpy face like that. Zael, please—"
Soren watched in shocked silence as Jadel pushed a bouquet of tiger lilies in the king's secretary's direction. That must have cost him a fortune since those flowers were not in season right now. A blush slowly crept up to the man's pretty face, poor him, who looked as awkward as he might be feeling at the moment.
Shanzael is the head of the secretarial department as well as the previous High King's trusted aide. The second son of a baron and an opera songstress, if Soren's memory proved him well.
He looked sharp and neat as always, with round-rimmed glasses and his long, silky black hair tied behind his neck. Shanzael was wearing an emerald suit and a white cravat, a pretty contrast that made his jade eyes bright. No wonder Jadel couldn't seem to take his eyes off of him.
Shanzael may looked stern and stoic, but he was undoubtedly a beautiful man.
A carefree, military man and a strict secretary – it was quite interesting to see how this pair will fair. But then again, it wasn't really his place to judge. He and Raffe weren't exactly the most normal couple in the world, either.
Shanzael protested. "My lord, please, stop it. This is neither the place nor the time to—"
"There is no right time or place when wooing a lover. Every gentleman must grab the opportunity when it presents itself," Jadel reasoned out.
Soren held the glass of wine to his lips, his eyes remained on observing the two awkward people who thought they were hiding themselves quite well behind the huge arrangement of flowers in the corner of the hall.
"You look like you're enjoying yourself a bit too much over there," said the amused, rough voice beside him. Soren turned and found the new high king staring at him.
Raffe intertwined their hands when Soren answered, "I must find some amusement myself when my husband is preoccupied with his councilmen."
It was the grand ball after their wedding and coronation and they were currently seated at the high table.
No matter how many people had already congratulated him, Soren still felt surreal. Now everyone is addressing him as 'his majesty'. Not to mention the gold crown around his head felt heavy with responsibility. He knew he was trained for the role—but being trained and doing it real this time was a huge contrast and it was making his head spin.
"So now you're listening to gossip?" Raffe said and shook his head, amused.
"It's not gossip when it's your cousin and your secretary," Soren grinned. "So, is there really something going on between the two?" he asked, eyeing the pair in question.
