The Knight's Rose

Chapter Sixteen ~ The Cry of a Primrose ~ Part Two

Chapter Sixteen ~ The Cry of a Primrose ~ Part Two

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Nikolai's POV

Rose.

She was perfect in her gorgeous quirky way. Her rich brown hair was wonderfully soft and weaved into the thickest of braids, falling down to her back. She smelt of golden innocence and the right amount of sweetness.

Her skin was pale and soft, and she had a small scar on the side of her temple. Her doe brown eyes were hypnotizing. I could stare at them endlessly if she didn't grow shy and looked away almost every time. Her cheeks glowed red when she was embarrassed or happy.

Her cherry-colored lips were as soft as velvet and were wonderfully plump against my own. Her dainty hands were small and fit perfectly in my large ones. Her hungry figure made me want to feed her, and I frowned as I remembered how she doesn't like it when I do anything for her.

I would do anything for her.

I loved her shyness when she first approached me with her handkerchief at the tournament. I hated it when her face twisted in sadness when Duke Baslow's daughter laughed at her.

I loved the way her eyes glowed when she first saw the Bibliotheca, and for the first time, I felt like I've achieved something wondrous. I hated it when her body trembled in absolute terror when she saw that scumbag of a knight... former knight.

Our accidental first kiss was sweet, but our first real kiss was glorious.

Yes. I was completely and utterly in love with Rose Van Sparrow.

Now, all I wanted to know was why she didn't come to see me three days ago. I had waited for a while and it became too late for me to go search her village. Then I had duties at the castle that I couldn't ignore, so I couldn't search for her.

I hated to think she came looking for me the next day, and went home thinking that I didn't cherish her anymore. I could feel my heart constricting painfully in my chest at the thought of her crying.

Her crying face was a weakness that could bring me down to my knees.

"Would you at least try to pay attention?" Philip chided, striking forward with his sword. I blocked it with my own, my left hand behind my back.

"How do you know I'm not?" I asked, watching him block my own attack. It was a morning routine we stuck to for the past five years. We fought each other until either one us tapped out or ended in a draw.

"Oh, please, you've been on defense this whole entire time, and didn't respond when I called out to you... twice, lover boy," Philip grinned, bouncing slightly, a grin plastered on his face. His blue eyes twinkled with amusement.

My jaw twitched before I clashed his sword against Philip's.

"Don't be jealous. It must be hard for you to accept that you're fated to live a hermit's life," I countered, smiling when my opponent scowled. We dueled until our muscles strained and our breaths were labored.

Even then, we didn't stop.

We only stopped when we heard the late morning bell, calling for everybody to get to their duties. I exhaled heavily, trying to regain back my breath. I looked at Philip, who lied on the ground, his blond curls matted with sweat.

"Not bad for a feeble-minded mammoth."

"Not bad for a nitwit of a prince."

"Respect your future king."