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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A MONTH later, Raffe had still failed to think of a way to get out of the match.
It was all well marrying a faie he didn't know and expecting nothing more than a marriage in convenience. But being tied to the most irritating faie he had ever met was not such a pleasant prospect and Raffe felt a growing headache thinking how his life would turn out after his abominable marriage.
He was still in a thunderous mood by the evening of his betrothal feast, a masked ball orchestrated by his father who seemed to be very enthusiastic to marry him off with the menace. Raffe obviously refused to the tedious idea but High King Alizade insisted and threatened to put him in the dungeons if he won't show up—seeing how his refusal clouded his father's mood, Raffe thought he might actually do it. So he had to agree, much to his chagrin.
Grabbing a glass of wine, he took off to the nearest balcony. He sat on the tiled floor, cross-legged, as he studied the horizon that was bathed in violet, red, and gold. The rich merriment of the ball was still vibrant and chaotic behind him. He was dizzy with the swirling bright-colored gowns, coats, and masks of the nobles and some faie and his jaw started aching with his almost permanent practiced smile to their guests.
Autumn had come to Ruemreon now. The dark green of the firs had been replaced by the crimson and orange fuzz of dancing and swirling leaves on the ground. The summer shrubs turned a kaleidoscope of swathing colors of red, purple, and brown, even the sky. Raffe was admiring the picturesque view when someone suddenly yelped at his side.
He knew who it was even without looking up.
Somehow, during the single month that Soren stayed at the palace, Raffe had learned to recognize his presence because of the scent of fresh apples that accompanied him wherever he went. Raffe wondered if that's another faie thing, but he did not ask.
Soren was clutching his chest in obvious surprise when he said, "What are you doing here? You scared me."
Raffe huffed. Great. So much for peace and quiet.
Soren gave him a questioning gaze.
Raffe ignored him.
"Oh. Beautiful," Soren murmured under his breath after a moment.
Surprised, Raffe looked up to find the reason of the sudden wonderment in Soren's voice and found him gawking at the horizon. It was dusk, minutes away before the moon comes out, so the rich colors of the autumn sky were very evident and magnificent.
He suddenly jerked when Soren sat beside him, crossed his ankles, and leaned back on the wall behind them.
Raffe glanced at him. Annoyed.
He wore the royal color of dark gold and white and Raffe noticed that his mask, a simple white inlaid with gold swirls with a golden wing on the left eye, was very similar to his, only that the golden wing of his mask was on the right eye. Raffe was very certain King Alizade was behind it. Someone also took an awfully long time preparing Soren's hair in small plaits that was piled at the back of his head adorned with sapphires and small white beads. Two small plaits rested across his forehead like a diadem and two more dangled on either side of his face. Raffe sighed inwardly. He might be annoyed with this brat, but he was no blind man. And everyone with eyes can see that Soren ver Idana was a breathtaking sight.
