Being the crowned princess of Dahlia, Emmeline is all too aware that politics and love don't go together.
She's never had trouble keeping her heart locked up, but now things are changing.
Her best friends: the rugged guard, Ajax, and her charming a...
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Strangely, this entire thing mirrors my parents' first meeting.
Not that it means anything!
I still reserve a dislike for this man, purely on the basis that I'm being forced to consider a marriage with him when I'm in a committed relationship with my two best friends.
"Can you let me out?" This feels wrong, intimate in the way I'm surrounded by dozens of incomplete artworks that are obviously his form of outlet in the same way reading and nature walks are mine.
Being royal, you need something to make you feel normal, to ground you to reality when the world around believes you to be the nearest semblance to God.
I understand this man, which I hate, but also cannot show, since I'm supposed to be Chloe.
Fuck, time to channel my inner bitch.
"I said let me out. I don't want to look at your shit art anymore." I cringe internally, the need to apologise already creeping up, but I squash it down.
Weirdly, he laughs. "Please keep the insults going. No-one speaks this way to me."
"I don't understand." I stammer out. "Shouldn't you be angry? Threaten to kick me out or whatever."
"I find your lack of fear regarding my title to be intriguing. Most people believe flattery to be the best form of communication when speaking with a royal."
Scoffing, I decide to allow myself to look at his art. Anything to get away from those hypnotic eyes.
God what is fucking wrong with me?
"I assume you're wondering why I haven't finished any of them." I trail my finger across the dried purple fused oiled paint.
"It's beautiful, so why wouldn't you finish it?"
"I guess then it would be over. There would be nothing for me to look forward to when I wake up."
"Surely being the King comes with an array of excitement to create anticipation?"
He shrugs, and I find my breath hitching slightly as he leans across me. I try to quell my response but his touch is like electricity, stimulating every nerve.
Stiffening, I notice his subtle smile, and then he moves forward, inches away from me when he lifts something up. "It's getting a bit a cold."
Stepping away, he pulls on the red shirt and I clear my throat, turning to avoid further embarrassment. "I need to leave."
I shoulder past but he grips my wrist. "Let go of me."
Surprisingly he drops my hand. "Sorry, I just...tell me what she's like?" I frown in confusion. "The Princess. What is she like?"
"Why ask me? Aren't I supposed to be biased?"
He laughs softly, the echo bouncing off the walls. "I trust you."
