Chapter 4 –
The grand hall shimmered under golden light as King Richmond Gold rose from his throne, his voice steady and commanding.
"I present to you, Prince Richard Richmond Gold—my son and heir."
The doors parted.
A tall young man stepped forward, dressed in regal attire accented with subtle armour. Golden hair fell loosely over his brow, but it was his crimson eyes that stole the breath from the room—burning, sharp, and unreadable.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips when his gaze landed on Mariela.
"There's no need for such formality, Father," he said, bowing lazily. "Just Richard will do."
Peter Mariott, standing tall beside his daughter, offered a respectful nod. "My prince, I could never address you so informally. This is my daughter, Mariela Elise Mariott. And I am Peter Mariott, guardian of the Western region. It is an honour to meet you, sire."
Peter gave Mariela a subtle nudge forward. She hesitated for only a heartbeat, then stepped gracefully into the prince's line of sight.
Mariela lowered her golden eyes in a perfect bow. "It is our pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prince Richard."
When she lifted her gaze, she found him staring back with a curious glint.
"Mariela…" he said slowly, a teasing edge in his tone. "Your face feels oddly familiar. I wonder where I've seen you before?"
"Perhaps in a dream?" she offered lightly, her lips curving in a faint smile.
"Or perhaps in my training grounds, where a certain girl was peeking through the ivy like a mischievous mouse?"
Her smile stiffened. "Ah… so you do remember."
The king chuckled, clearly amused. "It seems you two are already acquainted."
Before Mariela could respond, a guard leaned in and whispered in the king's ear. The monarch's expression shifted.
"I'll leave the rest in your hands, Richard. Sir Mariott, Mariela—it was a pleasure. We shall speak again soon."
As the king exited, the room seemed to shrink, the air charged with something unspoken.
Richard turned his crimson gaze back to them, now sharper.
"Sir Mariott, Mariela," he began, "let's speak frankly. My father wishes to entrust you with a vital project."
Peter inclined his head. "Please, enlighten us, my prince."
Richard's voice was smooth but firm. "Recently, we've learned that people have been travelling great distances—even from the capital—to the Western region, seeking your daughter's remedies and rare plants. What we're asking is this: share that knowledge with our physicians and farmers. Help us cultivate these resources and strengthen the kingdom's health systems."
Peter's brows knit slightly. "You mean… Mariela would stay in the capital?"
"For three years," Richard confirmed. "Long enough to ensure her expertise is passed on and expanded. This isn't just about plants—it's about alliances, trade, and securing our people's future."
"I understand," Peter said carefully. "But this is no small request. I would need to discuss this thoroughly with Mariela."
"Of course," Richard replied smoothly. "Take all the time you need. But know this—we ask not as a transaction, but as a favour to the kingdom."
That night, the palace halls lay wrapped in silence.
Peter retreated to his chamber, lost in thought.
But Mariela couldn't sleep. Her mind spun with questions, doubts, and a growing ache in her chest.
Without waking Gideon, she slipped out of her quarters and wandered into the moonlit gardens.
The night air was cool against her cheeks as she found herself by a serene lake, its surface glowing under the silver light.
This feels like home, she thought, recalling nights in the Western woods, gathering herbs with her mother.
On impulse, she kicked off her shoes and twirled barefoot in the soft grass, her laughter carrying on the breeze.
Then the laughter caught in her throat, turning to quiet tears.
Unseen, Richard had just returned from patrol. He stopped short when he saw her—spinning under the moonlight like a vision.
For a moment, he didn't move. Didn't breathe.
Then she stumbled.
"Mariela," he called out, striding forward.
Startled, she spun around, hastily wiping her face. "Prince Richard! What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same," he said, his tone gentler than before. "Are you hurt? You were crying."
She forced a smile. "It's nothing. I was just… clearing my head."
"You don't have to pretend with me," he said softly. "You're overwhelmed. Anyone would be."
Mariela hesitated. "I… I'd like to apologize for earlier. I was rude and forward. Please don't hold it against my father—he's worked hard to raise me well."
Richard chuckled—a low, warm sound that made her heart skip.
"You're stubborn and sharp-tongued. But honest. I respect that."
Her cheeks flushed.
"You remind me of someone I used to know," he added quietly. "That's… not a bad thing."
Before she could reply, he extended a hand.
"Come. There's something I want to show you."
The palace greenhouse took her breath away.
Rows of rare flora glimmered under enchanted lanterns—blossoms in every hue, leaves curling and unfurling as though alive.
"This is…" Mariela gasped, her eyes wide. "It's like stepping into a dream."
Richard watched her dart from plant to plant, her golden eyes sparkling with childlike wonder.
"This one reacts to touch—look," she murmured, brushing a flower's petal and watching it curl shyly. "And this—oh! I've only seen it in books!"
Her excitement poured out in a rush. "If we cultivated these properly, they could heal hundreds—no, thousands—across the kingdom. Do you realize how powerful this could be?"
Richard's lips curved faintly. "That's exactly why we need you here."
Mariela caught herself rambling and blushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Don't apologize," he said quietly. "I like hearing your thoughts."
Their eyes met in the soft glow of the lanterns, and for a moment, the air between them shifted—warm, unspoken.
On the walk back, Richard's voice was softer. "Think carefully about our request, Mariela. But know this—I would never force you. Whatever you decide, I'll respect it."
At the guest quarters, he paused.
"Goodnight, Mariela. Sleep well."
"Goodnight, Prince Richard."
As his footsteps faded, Gideon stepped from the shadows.
His eyes were unreadable as he watched the prince's retreating figure.
Something's changing… he thought grimly. And I don't know if it's for better or worse.