A Royal Scandal

3.Your Highness

~TRISTAN~

“It better be important,” I whined for what felt like the hundredth time as the car sped through the quiet streets. The night had been perfect—until Karl barged in uninvited, dragging me into this mess.

“You should ask that to the queen,” Karl muttered from my left, his tone laced with mockery.

I ignored him, barely restraining the scowl threatening to surface. If he’d come even a minute later, I would’ve kissed her. And then, God help me, I wouldn’t have stopped. There’s something about her—something maddeningly sultry. The way her tanned skin seemed to glow under dim lights, and those blood-red eyes...

Fuck. Just the thought of her was making me hard again.

I shifted uncomfortably, the tight confines of the car amplifying my irritation. The memory of her scent—warm, sweet, intoxicating—clung to me like a curse. There's something about Valeriana... something that made me feel alive, in a way I haven't felt in years.

The car jerked to a stop sooner than expected, the palace gates looming ahead, gilded and oppressive as ever. Night traffic had been merciful—or maybe it just felt faster because I dreaded what was coming. The inevitability of my mother’s summons suffocated me, much like the weight of royal expectations attached to my name.

I stepped out, cursing under my breath. The bulge in my pants was painfully obvious, and without many options, I shrugged off my blazer, holding it in front of me.

She better finish this quickly.

The main hall was cold and grand as always. Chandeliers hung like frozen stars, casting sharp shadows on the polished floors. The walls were lined with intricate tapestries of long-dead royals. I felt small, insignificant—as I always did within these walls.

And then I saw her.

The queen. My mother.

She stood at the far end of the hall, still dressed in her immaculate formal gown. Her expression was unreadable, a mask of regal composure that only heightened my unease. Her presence was always daunting—a storm contained within an elegant frame.

“Your Highness.”

"My queen."

Karl and I greeted her in unison. She spared Karl a glance and waved him off with the flick of her fingers.

“You can go back, Duke Karl.”

He bowed and left, leaving me alone with her. The room seemed to grow colder in his absence. It always did when it was just the two of us.

“Take a seat, Prince,” she said, gesturing to the ornate chair opposite her.

I hesitated. Seated conversations with her never ended well, but defiance wouldn’t serve me here. I sank into the chair, every muscle in my body tense.

“You were in?” she began, her eyes locking onto mine with unnerving intensity.

“I was just strolling with Karl,” I replied, my tone carefully neutral.

“Too busy strolling to answer my call, I see.” Her words were razor-sharp, and I swallowed hard.

“My apologies. It won’t happen again, Your Highness.”

“Tristan,” she said, her voice softer now, but no less commanding. The princess of Auravelle has arrived. She will be here the day after tomorrow.”

I blinked. That was what this was about? She dragged me from my night for this?

“You called me in the middle of the night to inform me of this, Mother?” Anger flared, sharp and hot, but I kept it barely contained.

“No,” she said, her voice dropping into icy calm. “I called you because I don’t want to see pictures of you making out with some random girl while your fiancée is here.”

Random girl. Her words hit like a slap, and the wound from two years ago still stung.

“It won’t happen,” I said through gritted teeth.

“It shouldn’t happen, Tristan,” she said, standing now, her presence towering even as she remained poised. “Be here to welcome the princess.”

With that, she left, her gown trailing behind her like a shadow.

I sat there for a moment, the anger simmering beneath my skin. I hated this arrangement. Hated everything about it. I didn’t even know who the hell the princess of Auravelle was, and I didn’t care to find out. She was just another piece in this royal game.

I am always a pawn—a piece to be moved and sacrificed for the sake of the kingdom. My wants, my needs—they didn’t matter. The curse that the title of prince carried. I wasn’t a man. I was a future—one that was never mine to decide.

Still fuming, I reached my room, slamming the door behind me. I tossed my blazer somewhere, not caring where it landed, and slumped onto the bed.

The queen’s words echoed in my head. A random girl. She’d never understand. No one did.

I wasn’t allowed to make mistakes, not in a world that always demanded perfection. But all I wanted, all I ever wanted, was to feel alive again. Not people looking at me like some God walking on earth.

And yet, when I closed my eyes, it wasn’t the princess or the queen I saw—it was her, always her. The biggest mistake of my life. The one I could never forget, no matter how much I wanted to.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight. Not with her haunting me.

And the princess of Auravelle. Another piece of the puzzle. Another person I’m supposed to impress, to welcome, to please. But none of it matters—not really. What matters is whether I can hold on to myself amidst all this... madness.