Ten

When she slipped away throughout the day to be with Rovin, her time was filled to the brim with grueling lessons and endless preparations for her wedding. Dress fittings, ballroom lessons, cake tastings, floral arrangements. She could never escape the constant hum of expectation, buzzing louder as her induction grew closer.

She tried to be polite, graceful, as she helped her mother plan the wedding—her wedding—but with each passing day, with every stolen moment spent with Rovin, she found herself dreading those plans more and more.

Her time with Rovin became another secret she carried out into the world, but this one was different—precious, untouchable. What they had felt sacred and achingly temporary, as if it might vanish the moment the she turned of age.

A month before her wedding, her coronation, and her coming-of-age—why the king thought it wise to hold all three on the same day, she couldn’t even begin to understand—she was such a tight bundle of nerves, stretched thin and ready to unravel at the slightest touch.

It had been over a week since she last saw Rovin—lost in a flurry of preparations—and she missed him like the ocean misses the moon, its pull constant, its touch impossible. She longed for his warm smiles, the way his tender jokes made the weight of her world feel lighter. She missed his eyes most of all, like a warm blanket—secure, safe, and wrapped in the comfort of something she could never quite hold onto.

She resolved to see him today. After her evening lessons, she would be free, and she planned to slip away then.

She headed to the library, hoping to gather a few more books for Rovin.

The library was quiet when she arrived, which was odd. It was usually alive with scholars and students at this hour—the gentle rustle of pages turning, soft murmurs drifting between the shelves. But today, the silence felt heavy, as though the room were holding its breath.

She ran her fingers along the spines as she glided through the shelves, the musty scent of aged pages and cedar shelves clinging to the quiet. She was halfway through pulling out a volume when she caught a glimpse of dark hair between the cracks between the books.

It was the prince.

He was standing at the far end of the row, half-wrapped in shadow, leaning casually against the wall with a book in hand—facing her.

She couldn’t make out the title from where she stood, only that the cover was dark and well-worn, like it had been read a hundred times. Curiosity tugged at her. She leaned in, pressing her cheek against the shelf as she tried to peer through the books—just a little closer—when a stack toppled over in a violent clatter, echoing through the quiet aisles.

Her sheepish gaze met his just as he snapped his book shut. Embarrassed, she ducked her head and dropped to gather the scattered books. The soft thud of his footsteps followed. He came up behind her, hovering just behind her, and startled her with his voice.

“What are you doing over there?”

She winced, turning to face him. He wore a strained smile.

Nervously, she picked at the skin around her fingers. She nearly lied, but then stopped herself. There was no point in lying to a Veron. Not even to him, despite his promises.

Hesitantly, she signed, I was curious about what you were reading.

He lifted the book slightly, glancing at it before meeting her eyes. “This?” he said, his tone neutral. “Just an old children's book.”

She frowned. What’s it called? I’ve never seen a blank cover before.

He tilted his head, thoughtful, then nodded as he handed her the book. “Here. You should read it.”

She took it from him and examined the cover. The book was indeed ancient, the title so faded it was barely legible. No wonder she couldn't read it.

The Ruiner of the Forgotten? she signed, eyes narrowing at the strange title.

He dipped his chin, his eyes drifting to the cover of the book. “It’s an old story about a family who once held the power to guide the hands of time, keeping the balance of the world’s timeline.”

Her eyes widened. That sounds like a power a noble family would wield.

He didn’t reply, but a wry smile tugged at his lips.

With no clue as to his thoughts, she spoke the first words that came to her mind.

I haven’t seen you around in a while.

He stilled, the air thick with unspoken words, then his lips curled into a smirk, sharp and knowing. “Why,” he drawled, “did you miss me, Arrella Rumore?”

He leaned back slightly, as if weighing his words. “I was away, busy with the riots near the border.” His eyes held an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been much help with the wedding,” he said, his gaze flickering briefly. “I haven’t been back long.”

She shook her head, brushing off his apology. It’s alright. We’re almost done with the planning.

She hesitated, her brow knitting together with quiet worry as Jan’s image flashed in her mind. Was everything alright?

His expression faltered, just for a moment, before he answered, his voice light but lacking the warmth it usually carried. “A few people were killed, but it was resolved in the end.”

She nodded, though a knot of unease tightened in her chest, refusing to loosen.

Do you know if Jan’s alright?

He paused for a moment, his expression unreadable before he replied, “Jan Nyx? She’s safe.”

Arrella’s eyes lingered on him, searching his face for any signs of untruth. He sensed her unease and added, “I heard you two are close.”

She blinked. We grew up like sisters, she signed, the words feeling heavier than she intended.

His smile was fleeting, almost sad, and his eyes seemed to look past her for a moment, wisftul.

The silence stretched between them, filling the space with an uncertainty neither of them seemed willing to break.

“I had a brother once,” he said finally.

Arrella’s heart skipped. She had never heard of another son of the Verons. The thought lingered in her mind, unspoken. A question she wasn’t sure she could ask.

What happened? she asked cautiously.

"He was killed."

Arrella looked at him, a pang in her chest. She didn’t know how to comfort him. I’m sorry, she offered.

He gave a short nod, his gaze fixed on the floor between them. “It was a long time ago.”

But there was a tension beneath his words, a flicker of something unsaid, that made her unsure if it was grief or something else that shadowed his eyes.

I’m glad you’re back safely, she signed, offering a thin but sincere smile, though a gnawing feeling settled in her chest.

He smoothed his expression, though it settled too easily, like something he had mastered a long time ago.

“I see court life hasn’t made you any less awkward,” he said drily. He glanced at her, then shook his head as though in mild disbelief, a hint of something more elusive in his expression. “Nice to see some things haven’t changed.”

She blinked. Then frowned, narrowing her eyes.

He laughed. “How have you been?” he asked.

She crossed her arms, lifting her chin. Doing well. Busy. She tapped her fingers against her arm, the movement sharp and irritated, before she reluctantly signed, “And you?”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound light but carrying a touch of wryness. “Doing as well as I can be.” He sobered, the corners of his lips flattening into something less familiar. For a moment, he looked away, his jaw clenching as if trying to swallow something he couldn’t say. When he spoke again, his voice was low, distant.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever see myself as king.” His words hung in the air, heavy and resigned.

“It’s a path I never chose,” he continued, his fingers flexing as if trying to shake off an unseen burden. He ran a hand through his hair, the movement sharp, impatient, before dropping his arm to his side.

“I’m not the one who should be leading this,” he muttered, his voice tight.

She stared at him, her mind racing as she took in his unguarded expression. He’d always seemed so sure of himself, effortlessly charming, poised and confident. It was strange, unsettling even, to see him so… exposed. Weary. Vulnerable. So unlike the perfect, unshakable prince she was used to seeing.

But it made sense. Didn’t she also hide beneath masks carefully crafted to shield her true self from the world? Of course he had doubts. Who wouldn’t, when the weight of an entire kingdom rested on your shoulders?

She reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

I don’t think anyone is ever truly ready for that role, no matter how much they prepare themselves, she signed. He met her eyes, his gaze steady but searching.

You just have to trust the people around you to steer you toward the right choices. To rely on them as they’ll rely on you.

He gave a faint smile, the sadness fading from his eyes. “When did you get so wise?” His tone softened as he met her gaze, the question carrying a hint of admiration. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”

She gave a silent nod, her gaze unwavering.

With everything I can.