Late in the afternoon, Martha came to Oriana’s room.
"A servant from Griven came with a message for you. He is waiting downstairs.".
Oriana had a bad premonition, but she followed Martha out to see a familiar face waiting by the foyer. It was Damien. "What happened?"
"His Highness has summoned you back, Orian," her fellow attendant explained.
She followed the young man after bidding Martha a few words of gratitude. Martha could only watch her leave, aware why she was called by Arlan. Thick worry could be seen in her eyes.
’It has not even been a week since she learned the truth about her identity as a witch. I am not sure how many shocking things this child will have to witness in the coming days. I hope she can stay strong.’
Upon reaching the guest mansion of her own kingdom, Oriana was asked to go to the study of the prince. Each step of hers seemed to echo the growing nervousness in her heart. The last memory she had with Arlan was...well, it remained fresh in her mind, and she didn’t know how to face him. She pressed a hand over her heart, berating herself for feeling anxious.
’I can do this.’
Inside the study, someone was saying similar words out loud.
"You can do this."
It was the King of Megaris, and his words were directed towards Arlan who was rigidly sitting behind the large desk. The prince was akin to a statue made of stone, his muscles tense, veins protruding from his hands, the lack of sleep for the past couple of days showing up as faint shadows underneath his eyes. It made his appearance appear harsher and more solemn, unapproachable even.
"Calm down," Drayce spoke once more. "You will scare anyone by behaving like this."
"If you find any change in me, remember your promise. You are responsible for protecting her from me. I mean it, Dray," Arlan warned.
"I know," Drayce assured. "If not for that, I wouldn’t want to spectate you disciplining your own person."
"This favor from—She is here." Arlan’s gaze was trained on the door. He could smell that lovely scent of honeysuckles, deeper and more enticing this time, mixed with her womanly fragrance, approaching the study, forcing Arlan to hold his breath as he clenched his fists.
"This scent...is..so, so tempting," he said through gritted teeth.
"Willpower, my friend," was all the young king could say.
"This dumb beast..." Arlan closed his eyes momentarily to get control over urges brewing inside him.
There was a knock on the door of the study, as well as Imbert’s announcement of Oriana’s arrival.
"You may rise." Arlan drew a long breath, before leaning forward in his armchair, his arms resting on the table with his fingers interlaced. "I heard you went to the Thevailese delegation."
"Yes, Your Highness," she answered. Though she straightened her body, her head was still lowered.
"With whose permission?" Arlan asked, his voice cold and authoritative.
The temperature within the study dropped.
"It was an emergency and Your Highness was busy at the summit. It would have been too late if I were to wait for Your Highness—"
"With whose permission?" Arlan asked once more.
"I apologize—"
Arlan cut her off. "I will not ask the same question thrice, Orian."
"...no one, Your Highness," she replied as she controlled her emotions from spilling out. She wanted to remain civil. "It was of my own volition."
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