of iron and crowns

CHAPTER SEVEN,

Prince Stephen was already waiting there, sitting on one end of the day bed. Irina walked forward and curtsied. "Your Royal Highness. I was not expecting you. Is there a particular reason you've stopped by?"

  She didn't raise her head, but she still felt his gaze weighing on her. After a moment, he said, "We haven't truly had much time alone, I thought I might come and check on you to make sure you've been alright in the past year. Catch up, you know. We don't know much about each other, and I've been hoping to change that."

  "Of course, my prince. If you'd like to ask questions, go ahead."

  Prince Stephen laughed. "I'm not here to grill you, Princess Irina. Just to chat."

  "Is there anything in particular you'd like to discuss?" Irina asked, moving to the other side of the daybed and sitting down. A table of sorts separated them. Irina adjusted her position slightly to face Prince Stephen.

  "I realised I know almost nothing about your likes and dislikes and that sort of stuff. What's your favourite colour, for starters? I hope you're fine with white and cream, because I'm afraid that's the main colour of your bedchamber right now."

  "I'm fine with any colour," she said firmly. "Though I, uh, usually prefer darker colours."

  Prince Stephen fell silent for a short moment. "Well, that's a problem."

  "I don't mind," she immediately said. "Truly, it does not matter to me at all. I'm not picky with this kind of stuff."

  The prince wasn't listening. Instead he mused, "Well I suppose you could stay in one of the guests' rooms for a little while until we refurbish your chamber to your own personal liking. Shouldn't take too long, perhaps a painting the walls, changing the curtains and swapping out some of the furniture. Our rooms are relatively uniform, you see."

  "Your Royal Highness," Irina was getting a bit more annoyed now, and it was written in her voice, "it truly does not matter to me what colour my room is."

  "You must be comfortable," Prince Stephen said calmly, thankfully unoffended. "You are going to be so far away from home, I'm insistent that we prepare everything as well as we can. Food, we've more or less solved with the fact that a few cooks will be coming with you. Your chamber... if you truly desire so, we could probably completely redesign it in a Saian style. The current one... it does not suit you."

  "Too pastelic?" Irina questioned, one brow raised.

  "That, yes. It doesn't fit your personality at all."

  "And you know so much about my personality."

  A smile cracked on the Prince's face. "I don't. I really don't. It's one of the reasons why I'm here. To get to know you better, really. You're a very easily annoyed person. Rare to see in politicians."

  "There is a reason," Irina said slowly, smoothing her sleeves, "why I let my cousin handle the diplomatic aspect of things. Because I assure you, I'd be notorious for having punched someone by now. The Saian princess with a violent streak."

  He asked, cautiously, "Have you ever? I mean, have you ever actually punched someone?"

  Irina sent him her blankest stare. "No. I have not."

  "I thought so," he replied, nodding matter-of-factly. Irina wasn't sure how to react to that, so she chose to stay quiet. He wasn't done yet thought, continuing, "You're quite a paradox, you know. No one can agree what they think of you. Some people say you're a polite and perfectly educated princess, graceful and elegant in your role. Others put you on a pedestal, the perfect politician. Some say you're cold-hearted and cruel, willing to do everything to achieve your goal. Which one is it, Princess Irina?"