BURNING CROWN | A Dark Royal Romance

BURNING CROWN 06-Foolish

The morning air was bitterly cold. Soft sunlight filtered through the windows of the small cottage. She shifted and rose from the wooden bed. Birdsong echoed in harmony outside. She picked up a towel and stepped into the small bathroom.

Cold water against her skin sharpened her senses. After putting on a simple cream-colored skirt, she headed to the tiny kitchen in the cottage, spending time slicing vegetables, eggs, and leftover bread from the day before, making a simple breakfast for one. The clink of a spoon against a plate was lonely, but it was the kind of quiet she had known her entire life.

After the meal, she opened an old notebook. She jotted down a few words—recording each day, from the pressure of meetings to Elliot's cutting remarks. Every line filled the page, as if it were the only place her thoughts could exist, unseen by anyone else.

A soft knock came at the door. She opened it to find Greda, holding a basket of freshly baked bread wrapped in fragrant linen.

"No duties at the main palace today, right?" Greda smiled gently, handing the basket over. "Here, eat up. Just baked."

She accepted it with gratitude. "Thank you, Aunt Greda..."

Greda looked at her for a moment before sighing softly. "Nicha... you're here all this time, why do you just hole up in your room and the duke's office? Try going for a walk around the grounds. The Fenhardt Palace isn't just the grand manor standing there, you know. There are beautiful things all around that you've never seen."

Nicha paused. Those words made her stop and think for a moment before she nodded slowly. "Perhaps... it is time I went out and had a look."

...

She stepped out of the cottage, following the gravel path that stretched toward the grounds surrounding the palace. And the sight before her took her breath away.

Vast meadows stretched as far as the eye could see. Towering forests embraced the grounds on all sides. The sound of a small stream gurgled softly, its surface glinting in the morning sun. Two deer drank peacefully at the water's edge. Birds of many varieties swooped and darted, some singing as though performing a live concert in the heart of nature.

Not far away, she saw a garden ablaze with colorful flowers in full bloom. Roses in shades ranging from deep crimson to pristine white, surrounded by lavender and tulips swaying in the breeze. And in the far distance... a large glass greenhouse sparkled like a jewel in the sunlight. Inside, it was filled with rare plants and ornamental gardens too beautiful to describe.

Nicha stood still, awestruck by a grandeur and beauty she had never imagined she would experience.

So, this was... the world of the Fenhardt dynasty.

Her weary heart was enveloped by the beauty before her. If only for a moment, she felt as though she could breathe freely for the first time in weeks.

The soft crunch of gravel beneath her shoes echoed along the path. She ventured deeper into the inner grounds of the palace until she came to a stop before the large greenhouse. Its clear glass walls reflected the sunlight, gleaming like a jewel standing proud amid the gardens.

She pushed open the heavy door and was immediately enveloped by the fresh fragrance of countless flowers. It was warmer inside than outside. Dappled sunlight streamed through the clear glass, falling upon meticulously arranged flower beds — fragrant roses, rare orchid varieties, pale purple lilacs, and climbing vines that trailed upward nearly to the ceiling.

She breathed in deeply, her large eyes widening in wonder. "So beautiful..." she whispered faintly, as if not wanting to disturb the tranquility of this place.

But a deep, low voice rose from another corner of the greenhouse... a voice she recognized all too well.

"So, this is it... how a commoner secretary kills time."

She gasped and spun toward the voice — and there he was. The young Duke in a cream-colored suit with the outer jacket unbuttoned, both hands tucked in his trouser pockets. His brown eyes stared at her without blinking.

Her heart pounded with surprise and unease. "I was just... taking a walk."

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "A walk? Or just trying to find somewhere to hide from everyone?"

She pressed her lips tight. Irritation surged until she blurted out a retort. "If I truly wanted to be alone, that's really none of Your Grace's concern."

His eyes narrowed slightly before he spoke in a mocking tone. "How surprising... You must not realize that a place like this isn't somewhere just anyone can wander into as they please. Especially... an ordinary commoner."

Nicha faltered for a moment before looking up to face him. "Well... I didn't see any sign saying it was off-limits at the door."

The young Duke's smile widened, but his gaze grew icy. "There doesn't need to be a sign. Because someone with 'proper decorum' would understand that a place like this is reserved for those of noble standing. Or the rightful owner... which is me."

His words struck her heart hard. She pressed her lips together even tighter than before. Her eyes wavered, but she didn't retreat a single step.

"Perhaps... the rules and boundaries Your Grace has created hold no meaning for certain people."

The glass conservatory fell into silence for a moment. Elliot stared at her, his razor-sharp gaze seeming to bore into the depths of her thoughts, before his curved lips lifted into another smile... a smile that revealed neither anger nor satisfaction, only a pressure so heavy she could barely breathe.

"Interesting..." he whispered in a deep, low voice, as the afternoon sun streamed through the glass, casting the shadows of both figures onto the marble floor — the tall, regal silhouette of the Duke of Fenhardt, and the small frame of Nicha, still standing her ground stubbornly before him.

The sky began to glow with a faint orange light. Only then did she realize she had wandered too deep into the forest surrounding the palace. The gravel path faded away, leaving only damp earth and tangled roots. She tried to retrace her steps— but the path no longer looked familiar.

Her heart raced from both exhaustion and worry. She pushed through tall bushes until she finally collapsed at the base of a large tree. Her back pressed against the sturdy trunk. Beads of sweat clung to her forehead. Her large, round eyes gazed up at the sky above the treetops, which was beginning to change color.

Why is my luck this terrible... she grumbled to herself, her breath short and ragged, too exhausted to move.

The sound of hooves striking the earth drew closer. She looked up in surprise before the shadow of a tall figure on a black horse appeared amid the evening light.

Elliot Fenhardt.

The young Duke reined his horse to a halt before her. His sharp eyes stared down at her from the saddle. That gaze was both imposing and mocking. His full lips lifted slightly. "Should I be surprised... that the duke's personal secretary can't find her way back to her own cottage?"

Those words cut deeper than thorns. She pressed her lips tight, trying to stand but utterly drained — all she could manage was bracing herself against the tree trunk.

He watched her with the eyes of a predator savoring the sight of weakened prey. "Or actually... were you just testing whether I'd waste my time coming to find you?"

A faint, low laugh escaped his lips — not true amusement, but a deliberate reminder of the gap between them.

Her heart pounded with exhaustion and indignation. She looked up at him, defiant. Her voice trembled—but she couldn't hold the words back. "I... didn't mean to get lost."

Elliot leaned down slightly from the saddle. His deep, sharp eyes reflected a cold light sharper than a blade.

"Are you sure? Because to me... it looks no different from sheer foolishness." The cool, deep voice sliced through her heart, leaving her frozen beneath the tree, as though pinned by the gaze of a Duke who would never be gentle.

Her expression tightened at his words. She pushed herself to her feet, moving toward him. He sat astride the saddle—every inch the composed noble. Sometimes, she wanted to act on those thoughts— rake her nails across his face... knock some sense into him. It might make her feel better.

But she knew she could only think such things. Because if she actually laid a hand on the Duke of Fenhardt, the next heir to the throne, her head would surely part from her shoulders.

"Are you coming back or not? Get on the horse, quickly. I've wasted hours searching for you," he spoke up, then guided the horse closer to her.

Nicha tried to muster the strength to climb onto the horse by herself, but her long skirt tangled around her legs, making every movement sluggish.

Her small hands gripped the reins tightly, but she couldn't manage the climb. She panted and met his sharp gaze as he watched in silence — his eyes full of mockery.

"Nicha, are you going to spend the entire night trying like this?" the deep voice pressed.

She bit her lip and tried once more, but before she could fall, he swung down from the horse and stepped to her side in an instant. Strong arms slid beneath her slight frame and lifted her with ease.

"Ahh...!" she yelped softly before realizing she was off the ground.

Elliot lifted her onto the saddle in one smooth motion. Before she could even settle, he climbed up behind her. His tall, imposing frame enveloped her by default. The faint scent of cologne from his shirt lingered in the air.

"So clumsy I have to do everything for you... how embarrassing," he muttered coldly before tugging the reins. The black horse galloped along the path back toward the palace.

...

The sky darkened as moonlight filtered through the foliage, faintly lighting the way. A cool breeze drifted around them. Exhausted from the long walk, she began to doze off without realizing it. Her head tilted, coming to rest against his broad shoulder.

He glanced down, sighing softly, but continued to guide the horse steadily — until he felt a small, warm dampness on the chest of his expensive suit jacket.

He looked down to find her fast asleep... a thin line of drool trailing onto his chest. His brows furrowed. A quiet curse slipped from his lips. "For goodness' sake... is this crazy girl drooling on me?"

Though his voice was full of scorn, his chest secretly flushed warm in a way he couldn't quite explain. He simply tugged the reins to keep the horse going, letting the small body lean against his chest... like a child who had no idea just how much trouble she was causing him.

The black horse came to a stop in front of the small cottage. In the flickering lamplight, Greda and several servants stood waiting. Every face was tight with worry— so much so that even half-asleep, she could sense it.

"Nicha!" Greda called out when she saw Nicha in the Duke's arms. Her face flooded with relief. "I told you not to wander deep into the forest. Everyone was worried you might run into a dangerous animal."

Elliot brought the horse to a stop and dismounted. He lifted her down as if she weighed nothing, setting her on her feet in front of the cottage door. His expression remained composed. His gaze swept over the servants.

"There's no need to worry. I've brought Nicha back."

"Thank you, Your Grace, for going after Nicha," Greda said, bowing deeply. She turned at once. "Nicha, thank His Grace."

Nicha hesitated for a moment. She met his sharp, dark brown eyes that looked down at her with that haughty, arrogant gaze laced with mockery. "Thank you very much for taking the time to find me."

Elliot merely nodded faintly. Before mounting his horse to leave, he turned back to look at her once more. A sly half-smile appeared. "You must have been truly exhausted from wandering around lost, Nicha... to have slept so soundly on horseback that you drooled all over my suit."

Those words rang out clearly in the silence. Everyone around them went slightly wide-eyed before quickly averting their gazes, stifling their laughter.

Her eyes widened. Her face flushed scarlet, as if on fire. "Th-that's not true at all!" she blurted, then clapped a hand over her mouth in mortification.

Elliot chuckled softly in his throat — a sound both mocking and warm at the same time. He turned and mounted the black horse once more, his sharp eyes glancing down.

"Remember this... no matter where or when, you can't hide your clumsiness from me." He rode off into the darkness. She stood there, her face burning in the lamplight as quiet laughter lingered behind her. Her heart pounded harder than it had when she was lost in the forest— because this was an embarrassment she wouldn't soon forget.