A gentle nudge stirred me from sleep, followed by a soft, familiar voice. “Wake up, young dy. It’s nearly time for lunch,” Jane murmured, her tone warm and unhurried.

  I blinked against the drowsiness, lifting myself upright as a light bnket slid from my shoulders. The afternoon haze clung to me, that peculiar fog between sleep and wakefulness. Before I could fully gather my thoughts, Cecil was already moving—quick, quiet, and practiced. She scooped up the bnket and began tidying the table, collecting my book and rearranging the small clutter I’d unknowingly left behind.

  I hadn’t even noticed I'd fallen asleep. The cool breeze drifting in through the open window, the hush of the library, the soft rhythm of turning pages—it had all conspired to lull me into unintended rest.

  Jane’s hand was on my arm, steady and supportive as I rose to my feet. I offered a faint smile, still half-lost in the dreamy stillness that clung to me.

  “I’d like to stop by the powder room first… just to freshen up,” I murmured.

  She nodded, no questions asked. And together, we moved through the quiet hall, the echo of my brief slumber lingering behind us like a fading whisper.

  Cool water spshed against my face, jolting me fully awake. I let it drip down my skin for a moment before reaching for a towel. After rinsing my mouth, the lingering haze of sleep had finally cleared.

  “Can you fix my hair?” I asked, turning slightly toward Cecil.

  “Of course,” she replied with a small smile, already moving closer.

  Her hands worked swiftly, gently gathering and smoothing strands until my hair was returned to its original, neatly styled form. I faced the mirror, studying my reflection. My appearance wasn’t too disheveled, but the nap had left a few visible creases in my clothes. I began adjusting them, tugging at seams and smoothing the fabric where I could. Jane stepped in wordlessly to help, ever attentive, brushing away wrinkles and readjusting the folds with practiced care.

  I had even chosen today’s dress with care, wanting something that matched the ease of a leisurely day—soft, graceful, and effortlessly lovely. It was a light pink gown with delicate undertones of vender, like the blush of early dawn. The fabric was smooth and airy, flowing gently with every step, and the bodice was trimmed with fine ce that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Scattered across the skirt were delicate embroidered flowers—tiny cherry blossoms and vender sprigs, stitched in soft threads of blush and violet, like a garden caught in bloom. Matching small vender ribbons adorned the sleeves, and a pink ce cinched the waist in a neat bow, adding just the right touch of noble charm. I wanted to look my best—not for anyone else, but because I intended to enjoy this day to the fullest, feeling confident, comfortable, and perfectly put together.

  Once everything was in pce, I gave a small, satisfied nod. That was enough to signal we could proceed to the dining hall.

  As we walked down the corridor, Jane spoke with her usual calm composure. “The Madam has instructed that you take your lunch first. They won’t be able to join you.”

  I gnced at her, saying nothing, though my curiosity must have shown.

  She continued seamlessly, “The Madam and Young Master Theoden are still overseeing preparations for the journey to Skyridge Mountain. Young Master Trevon is with His Highness—the First Prince. They’re training together this morning.”

  There was no mention of my father. As usual, even on weekends, he remained a very busy man—his absence a quiet, familiar presence of its own.

  I nodded once in quiet acknowledgment, though the mention of the First Prince lingered in my thoughts longer than I cared to admit.

  When I entered the dining hall, it was quiet and gently lit by the afternoon sun. The table was set with fine porcein, and a simple vase of fresh gardenias stood at its center, filling the air with a soft, pleasant scent.

  As I took my seat, a new attendant stepped in to assist me, allowing Jane and Cecil to excuse themselves to the Attendants’ Hall for their lunch. With practiced grace, the attendant began to serve the meal, each movement precise and effortless, as if part of a well-choreographed routine.

  Lunch began with a chilled cucumber and mint soup—light and refreshing. It was followed by poached sea bass, drizzled with lemon-herb butter, and served alongside tender baby vegetables and a side of buttered white asparagus with a touch of truffle.

  Between courses, the room remained hushed, save for the gentle clink of silverware and the soft footfalls of the attendants refilling my gss with chilled white grape juice.

  Once again, there was no dessert. I sighed softly—truly, what a tragic existence.

  It all began the day Mother decred I’d be limited to one dessert. At the time, her instructions were vague, so I made the mistake of asking for crification. In doing so, I must’ve sparked an idea in her mind—because instead of simply limiting me to one piece per meal as she originally intended, she decided desserts should now be earned, not expected.

  A reward system. Brilliant. And entirely my fault.

  Looking back, I should’ve just nodded along and pretended not to understand. Innocence would have served me better than curiosity.

  With quiet resignation, I set down my fork and dabbed my lips with a linen napkin. Then, rising from my chair with all the grace I could muster, I offered a bright smile. “Thank you for the lovely meal and excellent service,” I said, pretending I’d just dined at a five-star establishment.

  One of the attendants chuckled warmly, clearly amused. “It’s always a pleasure to serve you, my dy. Please come again,” he said with pyful formality.

  I offered a graceful nod to the attendants and made my way to the dining hall doors. But just as I stepped outside, I found myself face to face with four towering figures blocking my path.

  Two of them were instantly familiar—my brothers, Theo and Trev. The other two stood out even more. One had a striking crown of fiery red hair, and the other… brilliant, unmistakable silver.

  My gaze locked on the tter, and instinct took over.

  “Titania Voschell, daughter of Marquis Therdeo Voschell, offers her greetings to the Small Sun. May your light and glory continue to shine upon us,” I intoned, dipping into a fwless curtsey, the formal gesture executed with practiced grace.

  What a ridiculously long greeting to perform right after a meal, I thought, holding my posture. Let’s just hope I don’t throw up halfway through it.

  A pause followed—brief, but palpable—before his voice broke the silence.

  “Please rise. There’s no need for formality,” the First Prince said, his tone even and smooth, almost too composed. There was something distant in it, like a breeze that never quite touched the skin—cool, refined, and unshakably controlled. A voice made for commands, not conversation.

  I straightened quickly, cheeks warming. From behind him, I heard the unmistakable sound of muffled ughter.

  I didn’t need to look to know exactly who those chuckles belonged to—but I still chose to shoot Trev a pointed gre, silently telling him to knock it off, since he was always the most annoying.

  “Nia! Nia, I’m here too!” a cheerful voice called out.

  Beside Theo stood Stan—Cece’s older brother—his fiery red hair catching the light as he grinned with unabashed amusement, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

  “No need for a formal greeting too,” he added with a ugh, dramatically waving off the idea.

  Wonderful, I thought, now it’s three of them.

  “It’s a rare sight,” Theo said, clearly amused. “Nia is acting like a proper dy.”

  “Yeah, if it weren’t for His Highness, we never would’ve seen it,” Trev added, elbowing me with a grin.

  I sighed inwardly. Surrounded by a prince and pests. Lucky me.

  I met the First Prince's gaze, his eyes gleaming with a brilliant sapphire hue—cool, yet striking, unmistakably regal. His stare felt as though he were scanning me, assessing me from the inside out. Every inch of his demeanor radiated cold detachment, aloofness, and an intelligence that seemed to pierce through any facade. He exuded an undeniable air of authority.

  Wow, he’s nothing like the character from the novel I read, I thought.

  In the story, he was portrayed as carefree, almost foolish—someone with no real interest in the throne, obsessively devoted to the female lead, charming but unserious. However, the man standing before me was nothing like that. This was a person who commanded respect, his presence something entirely different from the one in the pages.

  I quickly broke eye contact, worried that holding his gaze too long might come across as disrespectful. He hadn’t said a word yet, but the weight of his silence filled the air between us. I straightened without thinking—whether out of respect or intimidation, I wasn’t sure.

  “Are you feeling well?” he asked at st, perhaps noticing my discomfort—or more likely, the growing irritation caused by the trio behind him. His voice was smooth and controlled, like water running over cold stone: polite, but distant.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” I replied quickly, surprised by how even my voice sounded.

  For a moment, his gaze lingered on me, and I could feel it—sharp and calcuting, as if he were peeling back yers, trying to understand what kind of person I truly was beneath the formalities.

  “You seem… different,” he said quietly, not unkindly, but with a curiosity that felt more analytical than personal.

  Different? From what? The noble daughter he’s read about in reports? Or… from whoever I was supposed to be in the original story? I couldn't tell. And honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer.

  Before I could respond, Trev stepped in with a grin, casually pcing his hand over the First Prince’s shoulder—an audacious move, considering the man’s reputation.

  “Don’t mind her, Your Highness. Nia’s just in shock from seeing you up close,” he teased.

  Stan and Theo burst into ughter, clearly enjoying themselves at my expense.

  I gave the three of them a gre sharp enough to wither a full-grown tree.

  The First Prince, however, didn’t even flinch. “Perhaps we should allow Lady Titania her peace and return to the matter at hand,” he said coolly, before turning toward the dining hall.

  Oh, he’s thoughtful too, I mused, somewhat begrudgingly impressed.

  As the First Prince stepped inside, I raised a hand to block the path of the remaining three. My tone was pleasant, but my smile was not.

  “I will never forget this moment,” I said sweetly. “You’d all best prepare yourselves.”

  The three of them—fully aware of what that meant—shared a silent look. Maybe, just maybe, they had pushed things a little too far this time.

  I didn’t linger in their presence and allowed them to enter the dining hall without another word. From a short distance away, I spotted Jane and Cecil making their way toward me—hurried, but still composed, their movements graceful and measured.

  “Did you enjoy your lunch? Young dy,” Jane smiled, asking lightly.

  “It was enjoyable… until I ran into people I’d rather not see right after a meal,” I replied, my voice tinged with clear annoyance.

  “Shall we take a walk in the back garden then?” Jane suggested gently. “It might help with digestion—and the fresh air could do wonders for your mood.”

  “You could rest under the magnolia tree and watch the ke,” Cecil added helpfully.

  “Good idea. Can you also bring my book?” I asked. Jane nodded and parted ways with us as Cecil and I continued through the manor and out to the garden.

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