"So, you're the one who stole our prince's heart?" The queen smiled at you warmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart."
You felt out of place as you curtseyed. "The pleasure is mine."
The instant you fixed your posture, Minho's hand wrapped around yours comfortingly. You faced him with a small smile. The prince looked impossibly breathtaking that night and you felt as if your soul was being snatched away by the mere sight of him. His eyes were sparkling with a different kind of gleam — a mixture of pride and endearment. You knew he was ecstatic to introduce you to his parents although you doubted you deserved the attention. What was a criminal doing in such a beautiful dress?
You spotted Hyunjin, Jisung, and the founder, all posing as the noble Han family. You were a member of that family, or at least that's what the king and queen were told to believe. To them, you were the Hans' daughter who studied abroad.
Minho didn't let go of your hand, even when you sat at the long table for dinner. Just as he promised. The prince has attended more formal events than he could count, but this experience was new to you. He wanted to ensure your comfort.
The truth is, you were not there to meet nobility and gossip, you were there for the prince's safety. Such gatherings were on every criminal leader's list to infiltrate.
When the feast was set, you were on high alarm. A poisoned drink can be passed to the prince any second, so you kept a watchful eye on him.
It wasn't until a server specifically handed him a drink did you squeeze his hand tightly in warning. He gave you a curious look and when you shook your head, he understood your message and put the glass down.
The same server came back a while later, offering more drinks that Minho politely declined. He then stood at his side, pretending to remove used plates and you noticed, from the corner of your eye as you absentmindedly swirled a spoon in your soup, a small, shiny object. You didn't have to take a good look at it to know what it was; a dagger pointed at the prince's back.
The dagger in the pouch skillfully hidden between the folds of your dress felt heavy, urging you to use it. You wanted to use it.
A look exchanged between you, Hyunjin, and Jisung from across the table was enough for you to reach down and pull out your beloved weapon. You waited calmly, not for the server to make a move but for your heart to tell you when to make yours. You've done this so many times it became second nature.
You felt it, and your muscles moved on their own. The loud screech of your chair against the flooring was enough to hush everyone, and when they looked in your direction, you were burying a dagger deep down the server's neck.
He fell once you retracted the weapon, and the drinks he was hoping to serve fell with him. Blood mixed with shards of glass and whatever was inside those glasses, and you towered above it all with a blank face. The dagger escaped his grasp as he sputtered for air, dying mere moments later.
When you looked around, they all stared, faces stricken as if they witnessed the most horrific crime. You were familiar with this.
You let tears fill your eyes as you clutched your dress with bloodied hands — a distractive act.
The prince stood and immediately pulled you into his embrace, right before the chaos began. Guards rushed to the lifeless body and guests shouted in confusion as you were led out of the hall hurriedly.
You kept the show of being a fragile maiden and sobbed quietly until you reached the prince's wing, where you slipped out of his arms, finally breathing.
"Are you mad?"
"No," he answered you softly, eyes trailing over your features in concern. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
He seemed to believe you because a wide grin soon overrode his face as he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your eyes. He glowed. "You look beautiful."
You raised your bloodied hands, which now felt sticky and disgusting, and gave him a teasing smile. "Sure."
He laughed, and you realized you could never get tired of hearing that sound. "You should wash up."
And you did. You couldn't wait to step out of the heavy dress and into your regular, comfortable attire. Stars, how did royals handle looking pretty all the time?
When you left the washroom, you found the prince sitting on the edge of his bed. He removed the fancy jacket he was wearing to stay in a plain shirt with rolled-up sleeves. His classic look, which somehow made him look even better.
"How did you know?" He asked once you sat next to him and you shrugged, "You do realize that I came here for other reasons besides being pretty at your side."
He shook his head. "You say this as if you aren't always being pretty."
"I've yet to believe you."
"I'll make you believe it one day."
Your gaze landed on an exquisite coat hung in the corner of the room for fitting. It felt as if your heart was caving in on itself as you commented, "The coronation is in a week."
"It is," Minho muttered before leaning sideways to rest his head on your shoulder. He looked up at you with a loving smile, "You know what else is in a week?"
Your face felt hot at the mention of the ceremony, but it made your heart twirl in ecstasy. How could you not know? Your occupied ring finger was a generous reminder.
"Don't you think it's... crazy?" Minho murmured as he intertwined your fingers. The action, despite being very small, brought a smile to your face. A genuine smile.
"I'm in love with a prince. You tell me."
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