[Lavinia’s POV — Lily Boutique, continuation]
Ah... the taste of triumph. Sweet. Rich. Lingering on my tongue like the finest wine.
Eleania sat across from , her noble mask freshly reapplied, yet I could still see the fissure beneath. Porcelain once cracked never regains its shine.
I leaned back, fingers drumming lazily on the armrest, letting my smile gleam like sunlight on sharpened steel.
"Mmm... what a blessing it must be, Lady Eleania, to witness such devotion firsthand. I can only hope," my gaze slid to her, lazy, deliberate, "that one day, you too will find a man willing to... overlook the world, simply for you."
Her knuckles twitched, whitening against her lap. Delicious.
"And..." my smile stretched wider, sharper, "I hope that man is soone who does not already belong to soone else."
She flinched. Oh, how she flinched.
I tilted my head, lashes lowering, voice dipping into sothing colder. "Because... if such a thing were to happen—if so so-called pitiful woman dared to set her eyes upon my man—" I let my gaze cut straight through her, icy and burning all at once, "—I might just pluck out those very eyes for daring to look where they do not belong."
The silence was exquisite.
Osric’s lips curved into a smile, amused, unbothered. Lady Sirella, poor girl, shifted nervously, her teacup rattling faintly against its saucer. And Eleania? Her eyes widened, though her spine fought to remain straight.
Then I softened. Warm. Almost rciful. I let the sweetness return to my tone, though the edge never dulled. "But what a relief. I have no such concerns. My father has always given everything I desired, and I know he will continue to do so—his only wish being my happiness. He also taught sothing invaluable: that one must always fight for what belongs to them. For if soone dares to reach filthy hands toward what is mine... " My smile deepened, radiant, untouchable. "...they shall regret it."
The air thickened. Even the attendants froze, swallowing hard as though they’d inhaled shards of glass.
Eleania finally spoke. Her lips curved back into that polished, poisonous smile, every syllable dripping with sugar-coated venom.
"Your Highness speaks with such passion... almost as if you are anxious. As though you fear your precious treasure might be stolen away." She tilted her head, her tone falsely innocent but her eyes gleaming sharply. "But perhaps... you should not underestimate the weak. For sotis, the ones you dismiss are the very ones capable of toppling you. Crushing you. Reducing you to dust."
The boutique held its breath.
I stared at her. Blinked once. And then—
"Pfft—!" A laugh tore from , bubbling bright and unstoppable. "Hahaha... hahahaha!"
Oh, this was rich. Did she truly...?
Adorable.
Utterly adorable.
Does she think she has the power to ruin ? That she, bowing here before , curtsying, begging for my acknowledgnt—she imagines she could crush ?
"How precious. How entertaining." I tilted my head, voice velvet-wrapped steel. "I must say, I never thought you had the daring to issue veiled threats in front of a Crown Princess. My, my. Count Talvan has raised you far too bold."
She flinched and clenched her fist.
Then, I rose smoothly, every movent deliberate, every inch the predator drawing blood. Taking Osric’s hand in mine, I let my eyes flick toward hers one last ti.
"Well then, Lady Eleania. Lady Sirella." My voice rang sweet as chis, cold as frost. "It was... enlightening, eting you both today."
As I swept past her, skirts brushing like the crack of a whip, I added softly—lethal honey in my tone:
"See you at the tea ceremony."
The boutique owner nearly tripped over her own feet as I gestured. "You—follow . I want that gown re-designed. Now."
And just like that, we left.
Because this little spat? This was only the prelude.
The real ga begins at the tea party.
***
[Inside the Royal Carriage—Later]
The carriage door opened with a creak, and in stepped Osric, holding...
"...a cotton candy?" I blinked. "Oh heavens, that’s huge!"
He only smiled faintly, boyish in a way he never let others see, and passed the puff of sugar into my greedy hands. I plucked a piece and popped it in my mouth, sweetness lting on my tongue as he slid inside.
But instead of sitting beside , he lowered himself across, on the opposite seat.
I froze mid-bite. "...What are you doing?"
He blinked at like I was the odd one. "Sitting."
"No, no, no," I patted the space beside —firm, commanding. "Here."
He hesitated, lips twitching, before giving in and settling at my side. I imdiately slumped against his broad shoulder, like it was the most natural throne in the world, munching contentedly.
For a while, we stayed like that. Warm. Quiet. Comfortable. Then his voice cut through, low and hesitant:
"Lavi..."
"Mmm?"
"Don’t wear that dress at the tea party."
I blinked. "...Excuse ?"
He didn’t flinch. "Don’t wear it."
I tilted my head. "But you picked it. What’s wrong with it now?"
His jaw tightened. His answer ca like an arrow—sharp, unhesitating.
"...It’s too bold."
"...Bold?" I raised a brow. "It has a turtleneck, Osric. A turtle neck. If that’s bold, then the nuns at the cathedral must be scandalous seductresses."
He gave a look, flat as steel.
I only asked the boutique owner to re-design it. You know—make it more modern. A little flair here, a little slit there... At the leg.
I just wanted to give it a modern touch and make it elegant. Sophisticated. A little dangerous. Perfectly .
"May I ask what’s wrong with that one, Osric?"
His hand twitched toward the sword at his hip, and his voice dropped into sothing darker. "Because I don’t want any other man looking at your legs."
"...Eh?"
. . .
. . .
Then I choked on the cotton candy and then broke into laughter. "Oh heavens—are you... jealous?"
His gaze didn’t waver. "...You could say that."
A dangerous edge flickered in his tone as he added, "If any man dares, I’ll pluck out their eyes myself."
My smile turned into a smirk. Delicious. He really ant it.
I leaned closer, brushing my lips against his cheek. "How utterly adorable you are, my grand duke."
He blinked at the kiss, startled for half a breath. Then his eyes shifted—hungry, molten, no longer boyish. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling flush against him.
"Adorable?" His voice was low, deep, and dangerous. "That’s not the word I’d use right now."
My breath caught as his gaze dropped to my lips, lingering there like he was already claiming them.
"Lavi..." he murmured, heat pouring into each syllable. "...May I?"
My face flad red. My instinct was to throw up my shield of humor. "I—You’ll just smooch my cheek again, won’t you? Predictable."
But before I could look away, his hand cupped my chin, firm yet gentle, forcing my gaze back to his.
"No," he said, voice velvet and fire. "Not this ti."
Then he leaned close, lips brushing the shell of my ear, his whisper sending a shiver racing down my spine.
"...Because this ti, I can’t hold back anymore."
My eyes widened, heart hamring.
He pulled back just enough to et my gaze again. His pupils were brown and intent. His voice was barely a breath.
"So... may I?"
I nodded, breath catching in my throat, and in that single motion, he slid gently, deliberately, onto his lap. My knees tucked lightly against his, the warmth of his body enveloping , steadying in a way that made my pulse hamr even faster.
His gaze locked onto mine, deep and holding captive. One hand lifted slowly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear, and his thumb lingered against my cheek—soft, teasing, and reverent all at once.
Then... his lips t mine.
Soft. Tender. As if he were savoring the mont, tasting the sweetness of for the first ti, careful, cautious, like we had all the ti in the world. My hands instinctively rose, curling into his shirt, clutching him, morizing the solid warmth beneath my fingers.
But the softness didn’t last. Not for long.
It shifted. His lips pressed harder, hungrier now, igniting a fire that ran straight through . Urgent. Demanding. All-consuming. His hands moved with intent, cradling my back, pulling impossibly closer, as if he could erase every distance we’d ever had—every stolen glance, every teasing smirk, every suppressed thought—into this one mont.
I gasped softly against his mouth, a trembling, delighted sound, and he responded with a low, almost feral hum of approval. Every nerve in my body scread for more, and yet, even in the heat of passion, there was tenderness—the way his forehead rested against mine when we broke for air, the way his hands lingered, unwilling to let go.
"You... you drive insane," he whispered, lips brushing mine, breath ragged. His voice dropped lower, heavy and intense, chest rising and falling against mine.
"...You make it impossible for to hold back...Lavi."
I couldn’t bear to et his gaze. Instead, I slumped against his shoulder, heart hamring so loud I was sure he could feel it.
He chuckled softly, one hand patting my back gently. "Is my princess... shy?"
I couldn’t reply. I just... couldn’t.
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