From blossomed clouds come water petals into the cosy morning air. Ilaria never hated the rain, but its unwelcome presence at the moment had completely shifted her mood. The morning hue that was supposed to be covered with the brilliant light of the glorious sun was now dull and cold, prompting the princess to stare outside the balcony both with contempt and pity.
The smooth skin of her palm was warm as it rested on her side, but when it touched the drops of rain as she extended her hand out, the coolness got the best of her. She quickly retreats her hand at the sharp coldness. The air in this land was certainly peculiar.
While she enjoyed the morning sun and the evening lull, the rain and the night made it seem like the sun did not exist in this part of the continent. The night here is longer than any parts of the realm too, making it harder to meet the light. It made her miss her home, at least the rain in Caelwyn did not bite like this.
Ilaria shut the balcony doors and wandered across her chamber, her steps carrying her toward the double doors beyond. Since she cannot step outside the palace walls to bask in the morning sun, she resigned herself to roaming the castle for what felt like the hundredth time.
The palace of Noctharis loomed like a tower of stone rising from seas of green, its tall glass windows catching the light and casting their gaze over the bustling kingdom below. From afar, it seemed unyielding, a fortress crowned in majesty. And at times, the shadow of the Black Dragon itself swept across the skies above, circling its roost as if overseeing the realm alongside its master, the King of Noctharis.
Inside, the grandeur was no less impressive. Though different from the palace she had grown up in, this one spared nothing in its wealth or artistry. Every hall was polished, every chamber tended, not a corner left unattended despite the vastness of its sprawl. Yet for all its beauty, the boredom has got the best of her.
The princess strolled around aimlessly, her heels clacking on the tiles mirroring the pitter-patter outside the palace as she walked in circles. Even the maids on duty were sceptical at the absence of her handmaiden as she pondered around the marble floor. At some point, Ilaria stopped on her track to look outside the intricate window.
The rain has yet to subside, and so does the darkened sky. Usually, when the storm came and thunder began to show its malevolent fangs, commoners and nobles alike would hastily find shelter to hide, be it under a shack or old woods or the palm of their hands, the first destination that came to mind was home.
So where is he?
Ilaria frowned when she saw the reflection of herself on the glass window. With the rain clattering on the surface and the hollow sound that followed, it made her seem like a pathetic damsel in distress as the scene unfolded dramatically.
She drew in a deep breath and pressed her palm against the cold glass, closing her eyes as though the weight of the world rested upon her shoulders. In her mind, the reflection that stared back at her was a tragic portrait — a forlorn princess, weary of her fate. How pitiful! How utterly discontented she appeared...
With another deliberate breath, Ilaria opened her eyes, waiting expectantly for the girl in the glass to look transformed. And when her lips curved into a small, triumphant smile, she decided the sorrowful maiden was gone, replaced by someone far lovelier, far braver.
She tapped her cheeks lightly, examining her face like a middle-aged aunt trying on a beauty powder for the first time. The weird and curious glances she got from the maids cleaning the interior went blind in her eyes as she continued to smirk in front of the window.
However, the sudden appearance of another reflection yanked her attention. In a matter of seconds, there was a tall figure standing behind her, examining her; thinking. Ilaria widened her eyes in alarm.
"Your Highness!" Her gown twirled across the marble floor as she exclaimed in suprise. She lowered her head upon instinct; her hands clasped tightly against her upper abdomen.
"You know you don't have to do that," a voice said, smooth and steady, carrying an effortless confidence. She peeked to find the second prince of Noctharis standing before her, every inch the picture of poise.
Ilaria hastily straightened to look at the pair of golden eyes that seemed to be calculating. He still had the same stance when he was looking at her in the reflection, his arms crossed; his lips pursed slightly; his head tilted to one side like he was trying to figure out what could the princess possibly be doing.
Ilaria clamped her lips in embarrassment as she quickly gathered her composure. The second prince flickered his eyes, engrossed by her change in demeanour. A hand was immediately on his chin as he bend over to look out the window and pretended to be thinking.
"I was wondering what my sister-in-law was doing..." he drawled quietly, his playful gaze slowly trailing back to her countenance followed by a smirk. "I didn't know you loved yourself so much?"
"You—" Ilaria take a long, silent breath, biting her lips to suppress the heat that was rising on her cheeks. She cleared her throat in hopes to sound composed, "Prince Melvin, it was inappropriate to jump in on others."
Melvin clasped his hands behind his back and straightened, offering the princess a bright smile, "Did I scare you?"
"Of course!" Ilaria blinked her eyes and shot him a knowing look, but it was quick to turn into a sheepish guise once she looked away in embarrassment. Her voice was soft, almost inaudible when she said, "I didn't mean to overreact, you just appeared out of nowhere..."
"Hm, is that so?" he chimed, knowing so well that he has made her flustered. He nodded his head ahead, motioning her to follow as he started to walk. Melvin scanned the hallway and flashed his charming smile to the maids.
His steps were insouciant and almost bounding, as if he intended for the whole palace to hear the thudding of his expensive boots. Despite that, his friendly ambience earned him lovely smiles from the maids as they bowed in the presence of the two royals. Ilaria watched him tentatively when he returned his gaze ahead.
He seemed to be in unusually good spirits today. With a contented expression, he glanced at her and asked, "You don't look too happy though, don't tell me it's because of him again?"
She frowned at the remark but fell into step beside him. Was it really that obvious — that her mind had been circling only on one person, her husband? She sighed, letting her gaze drift toward the long row of windows. The storm outside lashed harder against the glass, and she found herself wishing it would end soon.
"No, I was just checking myself out," she muttered.
"Ah, but you're already pretty," he said nonchalantly.
"Just in case?" She blurts.
"Why? So that you could make sure he would come home to a beautiful wife?"
"Hey..."
Melvin turned slightly and peered down at her; his golden eyes glinted beneath his drooped eyelids, a sly smile was plastered on his face. Ilaria almost rolled her eyes. While she found herself melting whenever her husband looked at her, be it in disdain, disapproval or deadpan, she did not feel the same spark from the second prince despite his bonny gaze.
It was a good thing that the Black Dragon's clan had good genes. She was no stranger to his lovely smile and the meaning it held now. He was as sweet as he could be, although he would not mind being utterly rude when he wanted to be. Except, he has yet to show his fangs to her.
"I'm being honest, you're already pretty. There's no need to stop at every reflection you pass," he intoned, shrugging.
Ilaria was confused by his statement, she could not help but notice how carefree he was; his raven hair was unruly as it swayed across his forehead, and with each graceful step that fell across the floor, it bounced and waved lightly, making her wonder if he had just taken a comforting bath.
But then his gaze flicked briefly to the tall windows before returning squarely to her, and the meaning of his words sank in. Heat rushed to her ears.
"That was not very kind of you," she huffed, crossing her arms with an exaggerated pout, clearly unimpressed by his teasing.
"Was it?" He only chuckled lightly.
A wave of silence passed as the princess recovered from her sulky mood. From the corner of his eyes, Melvin could see Ilaria placing a hand on her chest before lifting her gaze at him. Their footsteps echoed faintly against the marble floor, while their voices rose just enough to rival the steady drum of rain outside.
Then their eyes met, and there was that dramatic look on her face again. Those round and bright puppy eyes...one that Melvin was so familiar with after six months of accompanying his brother's wife in his absence. His expression softened despite himself, even as he quietly braced for whatever she was about to say.
"Vin..."
"Hm?"
"Is it wrong that I miss him?" Had it been anyone else, they might have brushed off the princess by now, but Melvin only shook his head, knowing the easiest way was to keep his answers short and steady.
"No," he said.
"Then...is it wrong that I worry about him and wish he'd come back already?"
"Nope," he shook his head again, popping the word.
"Then why won't he return?"
Melvin was ready to shake his head a third time, but this time his brows furrowed as if she had just said something absurd. Surely she knew better than to ask him that. He pressed a hand to his chest, pointing at himself questionably to make her reconsider. "...You're asking me?"
The princess nodded eagerly. "You're his brother. Didn't he tell you anything?"
"As if he would," Melvin scoffed, turning aside with a look that was half amused, half exasperated. "You're the wife. I'd think you'd know more than I do."
"He didn't tell me anything."
"Nor me," Melvin rubbed his jaw, his tone casual, as if the matter barely troubled him. Turns out they were both being deserted by the crown prince. Still, he stole a glance at Ilaria. For a marriage of convenience, she showed far too much tenderness toward his brother. Not that it was bad, it was just...perplexing.
He had suspected it for months, but now he was certain: the princess did harboured feelings for the crown prince. Snapping his gaze back to the front, he cleared his throat, restless to offer at least a word of comfort as any decent brother-in-law should.
"You know," he began, his head tilting as if in search of the right words to say, "I never expected him to turn into, uh, a different man once he married, but the least he could do was tell you where he's gone."
Ilaria lowered her shoulders, sighing. "I think I do understand why he didn't. I was just...a bit upset."
"A bit?" Melvin clicked his tongue, clearly in disbelief after witnessing her obvious infatuation. "You looked ready to throw yourself into the rain for some dunderheaded lover soon."
Ilaria's lips pressed into a pout. "I'm not always that dramatic..."
"Says the one clutching her heart every time she talks about that bastard."
She threw her hands up in protest, offended. "You know, the least you could do is say something nice."