Princess Vera Catherine's arrival filled the castle with celebratory joy.
She was courteous, graceful, and won universal praise. To nearly everyone, she seemed the ideal future queen—everyone but Cyrus.
He could never truly relax. He feared that Vera would discover Lia's existence, feared the unspoken secret would be exposed. Everyone in the castle—including his father—knew about Lia, but no one was foolish enough to mention her in front of Vera. If Vera discovered it on her own, however, it would be another matter entirely. So Cyrus stayed close to Vera under the guise of hospitality—accompanying her in the royal gardens, guiding her on castle tours, and attending banquets by her side. To onlookers, he seemed smitten, a devoted suitor.
No one realized he was only there to keep her away from places she should never go.
Only at night, when the castle fell silent, would he sneak away to the tower where the girl he truly loved waited.
Only there, in her arms, could he truly breathe.
That night, the wind was soft, the sky silver-lit.
Cyrus quietly pushed open the door and found Lia standing by the window, clothed in a gauzy white dress, her dark hair flowing over her shoulders like a dream. She turned at the sound of his footsteps, her eyes lighting up.
He crossed the room and pulled her gently into his arms.
"Did you have a good day?" he asked softly.
She nodded, wrapping her arms around him tightly, as if giving him her whole heart. He kissed her forehead, then her eyes, then her lips. The two of them, as if the last lovers left in the world, whispered their silent affection into the quiet night.
But just as their kiss deepened, footsteps echoed from outside—light, yet unmistakable.
The door creaked open.
Cyrus spun around in shock, and Lia froze, panic and dread flooding her eyes. They stood there, paralyzed, the air thick with tension.
A slender figure entered their view—Vera.
She stood silently in the doorway, her gaze unreadable. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her tone unexpectedly gentle—
"Forgive the interruption."
Cyrus stepped in front of Lia, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Vera… I… I'm sorry. I have to be honest. Lia is the one I truly love. I'm grateful to you, but..."
He paused, taking a deep breath. "If you're willing, I'll personally ask my father to annul the engagement. I will do everything I can to make amends, just say the word. Please..."
Vera smiled faintly, like a spring breeze brushing the night.
"Love can't be forced," she said, her voice calm, almost detached. "If your heart belongs to someone else, why should I try to claim it?"
Both Cyrus and Lia blinked in disbelief.
Vera continued, "I won't stand in your way. You can be with the one you love. I won't interfere."
Cyrus bowed deeply. "Thank you… Thank you for your kindness and understanding."
Lia's eyes welled with tears as she nodded her gratitude.
Vera raised her hand to point toward the night sky. "But—the engagement cannot be annulled."
She said it with the same lightness one might use to comment on the weather.
"This isn't just a marriage. It's a political alliance. A bond between kingdoms. You may love whomever you wish, but the title of crown princess belongs to me."
With that, she turned and left, offering only a parting phrase:
"I wish you happiness."
Days passed. The castle remained serene, not a ripple of scandal disturbed its still waters.
Vera was still poised and graceful, unfailingly polite, and never betrayed a flicker of displeasure. Her conversations with the queen were warm and natural; her interactions with Cyrus perfectly composed. No one suspected anything.
It was as if that night had never happened.
Gradually, Cyrus and Lia relaxed. If Vera didn't object, then what was there to fear? Cyrus became bolder, even visiting Lia during the day to share lunch in the tower.
One afternoon, as he walked back through the royal gardens after seeing Lia, he unexpectedly ran into his father.
"You've been coming and going mysteriously these days," the king said, frowning. "What exactly are you up to?"
Cyrus tensed, at a loss for words. "I… I was just—"
A familiar voice chimed in at just the right moment—
"I invited Prince Evan to admire the flowers with me, Your Majesty."
Vera emerged from a path, her smile flawless and her tone gentle. "Have I taken too much of his time? If so, I won't trouble him again."
The king's expression immediately softened. He even smiled. "Nonsense! Of course you're welcome to spend time together. You're engaged. It's expected. Show him around, Vera—get him out of that study once in a while."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Vera said, bowing gracefully.
Once the king had gone, Cyrus bowed deeply. "Thank you, Princess Catherine."
Vera waved a hand, speaking lightly. "No need to thank me. But Prince Evan, I do hope you remember one thing—you are a prince, the future ruler of this land. You have responsibilities. Don't let emotions cause you to neglect them. If you make the king worry, you make the kingdom worry."
Cyrus paused, then nodded solemnly.
"You're right. I will remember."
Vera smiled and turned away. Her gown brushed over the flowers like a golden butterfly disappearing into the corridor.
Cyrus remained where he stood, lost in thought.
She was right. If he allowed himself to be consumed by love, it would only bring trouble to both him and Lia. To protect their future, he needed power—real power. Only then could he carve out a destiny of his own.