❝ In a world tainted by decadent rulers, the Princess must step back to her kingdom for a revamp of the rules, claiming her rightful place on the throne ❞
Rules are made to be broken was the only rule Lysandra ever abided by. When that very principl...
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The morning breeze squeezed itself into the royal court room as if the underlying tensions between its occupants wasn't enough. Lysandra shivered due to the lack of a proper jacket and cursed herself for being stubborn when Laurent had insisted that morning, having sensed the sheer top she had on would do no good in shielding me from the wintry weather. She crossed her arms across her chest, huffing at how uncomfortable the tight lacy skirt was, digging into the skin of her thighs.
If it wasn't for Seraphine's tactical persuasion saying that Lysandra's appearance in public events was necessary for the smooth functioning of the kingdom, she wouldn't have come here to welcome her father's brother and his family, Timotheus, who apparently have been busy working for the betterment of the kingdom, from all the way across the world. If she didn't know any better, she would say that they were on a goddamn vacation.
Avgustine did not make any attempt approach Lysandra after her lashing out at him two days ago and she was slightly unnerved. He offered her courteous smiles and nods whenever they had to pass by each other in the castle but, apart from that, he made no physical move towards her. Her parents did not see it fit to talk to her either, apart from her mother's passive aggressive warning that she should work towards the honing of her magus and she had scoffed, walking past her. They, somehow, were certain that Lysandra would marry Avgustine and she was sure that she would never.
The African Queen had not made an appearance and it was almost as though the King and Queen were hiding her, as if nobody knew about their private rendezvous when they welcomed her but unfortunately for them, the maid who was at their service was Seraphine's snitch. She was quite clever and sly for a twenty year old, Lysandra thought, but then again, the royal environment tended to do that to people considering she had gone through quite a lot of changes as well.
After a long, humdrum wait, the doors sprung open as a hefty man walked in. Sharp eyes flitted around as he visibly relaxed, though his shoulders were crouched more than they should for an average man. His lack of confidence was not the reason, though, Lysandra reckoned it was more of a physical trouble. A slender woman followed him, appearing a shade frazzled while she scampered behind him.
He swiftly walked over to the King, who had ascended from the throne, stepping forward towards his brother. To Lysandra's utter surprise, they embraced each other and she could sense no other intentions apart from the fact that they clearly missed each other. The Queen was quick to hug Timotheus's wife, patting her cheek affectionately.
"Aahh, the country side was warmer than here," Timotheus chuckled, rubbing his arms to warm himself up. "Looks like the winter is setting in, eh?"
"Certainly, Timmy," Zemira gushed, offering him a welcoming smile.
To say that Lysandra was shocked would be an understatement and she remained mostly zoned out as crisp conversations were made and the Dimitrovs were offered forced greetings and somehow, the nicest of the royals that she knew seemed to have trouble in getting along with the meaner lot of them.
