The Prince Who Asked Too Many Questions
2040 Words
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Chapter Two – The Prince Who Asked Too Many Questions
The palace always seemed busiest in the mornings, when the corridors were alive with the shuffle of maids carrying linens, the barked orders of stewards, and the steady rhythm of boots from the guards patrolling their posts. To most, it was a place of discipline and order. To Lina, it was chaos held together with ribbons and prayers.
She balanced a tray of honey cakes and milk for the children, her braid slipping loose as she hurried down the corridor. Casian and his little sister, Princess Alira, were waiting for their breakfast, and Lina had learned quickly that a hungry royal child could be more terrifying than a furious steward.
She pushed the nursery door open with her hip, setting the tray down carefully. Casian was already bouncing on his bed, curls wild and face smeared with the remnants of last night’s dessert. Alira, in contrast, sat primly at her little table, sketching a flower onto a scrap of parchment with a stub of charcoal.
“You two,” Lina sighed, “are going to give me gray hairs before I turn twenty-five.”
Casian grinned, leaping onto her skirt as she tried to serve the honey cakes. “Gray hairs will make you look wise.”
“Gray hairs will make me look like a ghost,” Lina said, plopping him back onto his bed.
Alira giggled, and Lina smiled faintly. These children, for all their mischief, were the only reason she tolerated the palace’s endless rules. They were her joy, her reason for enduring long days and sleepless nights.
But as she poured milk into Alira’s cup, the door creaked open behind her. She turned, expecting the steward or another maid.
It was Ethan.
Lina nearly dropped the pitcher.
The crown prince rarely visited the nursery. He had guards, advisors, and tutors who reported every detail of the children’s lives to him. For him to come in person—it was strange. Dangerous. And, she thought with a rush of nervous heat, far too close for her comfort.
“Your Highness,” she stammered, dipping her head quickly. “The children are eating. Was there something you needed?”
Ethan stepped into the room, his gaze sweeping over the tidy nursery, the toys stacked neatly in the corner, the children watching him with wide eyes. His presence filled the space, commanding and sharp. Yet when his eyes landed on Lina, something softened in their depths.
“I wanted to see my nephew and niece,” he said smoothly. “Is that so strange?”
“Yes,” Casian piped up before Lina could stop him. “You never come in here.”
“Casian!” Lina hissed, horrified.
But Ethan only raised an eyebrow. “Honest, aren’t you?”
“He gets that from me,” Lina muttered, then bit her tongue too late.
Ethan’s lips curved faintly, and Lina’s stomach lurched. She hated that look—because it wasn’t scorn, or anger. It was amusement. Interest. And interest from the prince was the last thing she needed.
He moved closer, and Lina’s breath caught as he crouched before his niece, tucking a strand of golden hair behind Alira’s ear. The gesture was unexpectedly gentle. “What are you drawing?”
Alira shyly showed him the parchment. Ethan studied it, nodding with a faint smile before setting it back down.
Then, to Lina’s dismay, he turned his attention fully on her. “And how long have you been nanny to my siblings’ children?”
Lina fidgeted, smoothing her apron. “Three years, Your Highness.”
“Three years,” he repeated, as though tasting the words. “Long enough to know this palace better than most courtiers, I imagine.”
“Long enough,” Lina said carefully, “to know when someone’s asking too many questions.”
The boldness left her lips before she could stop it. Again.
Casian snickered, nearly spilling his milk, and Alira looked scandalized. Ethan only tilted his head, eyes glittering with that unreadable expression that made her skin prickle.
“Perhaps I am,” he admitted, rising to his full height. “But I find myself curious.”
“Curious about what?” Lina asked, regretting the question instantly.
His gaze held hers for a beat longer than necessary, and her breath hitched. “About the nanny who dares speak to me as though I am not her prince.”
The air between them thickened. Lina’s heart hammered, and she forced herself to break eye contact, fussing with the tray of cakes as though her life depended on it.
“I speak as I must to care for your nephew and niece,” she said briskly, keeping her hands busy. “If that displeases you, Your Highness, I’ll try harder to remember my place.”
Ethan didn’t answer at once. Instead, he studied her, so intently that Lina felt as though he could see through her skin to her very soul. Then, finally, he inclined his head.
“Remember your place,” he echoed softly. “Yes… I wonder if you truly can.”
With that, he turned and left, the door shutting quietly behind him.
The silence he left behind was deafening. Casian stuffed his mouth with cake, blissfully unaware, but Alira tilted her head curiously.
“Miss Lina,” she whispered, “the prince was staring at you. Why?”
Lina nearly choked. “He wasn’t staring at me. He was… thinking about important princely matters. Now finish your breakfast before it gets cold.”
But her hands trembled as she cleared the tray, and her heart refused to slow.
That night, when the children were asleep, Lina sat by the nursery window again, hugging her knees to her chest. The memory of Ethan’s gaze lingered, heavy and unsettling. She had spoken out of turn again, and instead of punishment, she had received curiosity.
And curiosity from a prince was far more dangerous than wrath.
In his chambers, Ethan dismissed his attendants with a flick of his hand. He should have been reading council reports, prepariGreat 🌹✨ Let’s continue! Chapter Three will deepen their connection — more funny clashes, Ethan finding excuses to be around Lina, and Lina struggling between her role as nanny and her growing awareness of him. We’ll also show how dangerous this attraction could be inside palace walls.
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Chapter Three – Rules Were Not Made for Nannies
The next morning, Lina swore she would keep her distance.
It wasn’t just for her own sanity—though the thought of Ethan’s sharp gaze sent a confusing flutter through her chest—it was for survival. Nannies didn’t get noticed in the palace. If they did, they didn’t stay long.
So she rose early, tied her hair into a no-nonsense knot, and focused on her duties with a determination worthy of a general. She dressed the children, fed them porridge, and even managed to keep Casian from smuggling his wooden sword into the nursery.
For a few blissful hours, it seemed to work.
Until the prince appeared again.
Lina nearly spilled an entire basin of water when she caught sight of him standing in the doorway. He didn’t stride in with the commanding force of yesterday—no, today he lingered, almost casually, as though he just happened to be passing by.
But Lina wasn’t fooled. Princes didn’t “just happen” to pass through the nursery wing.
“Your Highness,” she said tightly, setting down the basin. “Is there something you need?”
Casian, ever the traitor, beamed and ran straight into Ethan’s legs. “Uncle Ethan! Look! I drew a dragon eating a knight!”
Ethan crouched down, studying the messy scribbles with a faint curve to his lips. “That is… ferocious.”
Casian puffed his chest proudly, and Alira tugged on Ethan’s sleeve, showing him her own neat sketch of flowers. Ethan listened patiently, asked questions, and even praised their drawings.
It was unfair, Lina thought bitterly. How dare a man that intimidating be so gentle with children?
Then his gaze flicked to her. “And what do you think, Nanny?”
Lina froze mid-motion, a damp towel in her hand. “I think Casian’s dragon looks more like a potato, and Alira’s flowers are far superior.”
The children erupted into laughter, Casian shrieking with mock offense. Ethan’s lips twitched again—just enough to make Lina’s stomach knot.
“You don’t spare anyone with that tongue of yours,” he said softly.
“I speak the truth,” Lina shot back. “If you dislike it, Your Highness, you’re free to ignore me.”
Most princes would have been offended. Ethan, infuriatingly, seemed amused.
The children clamored for his attention again, and Lina tried to busy herself with folding linens. But Ethan didn’t leave. He stayed for over an hour, sitting with Casian and Alira as they told wild stories and built towers out of blocks. Every so often, his gaze would wander back to Lina, watching her with that unreadable expression that set her nerves on fire.
When he finally stood, the children groaned. “Stay longer!” Casian begged, clinging to his uncle’s hand.
“Another time,” Ethan promised, then looked at Lina. “If your nanny allows it.”
Lina nearly choked. “They’re your niece and nephew, Your Highness. I hardly have the authority to deny you.”
His eyes glimmered. “You act as though you do.”
And before she could muster a reply, he left.
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By evening, Lina was pacing the nursery after putting the children to bed. She wrung her hands in her apron, muttering under her breath.
“This is bad. This is so bad. Why does he keep coming here? He has an entire kingdom to run!”
Her friend Maren, one of the maids, poked her head through the door. “Who has an entire kingdom to run?”
“No one,” Lina said too quickly.
Maren stepped in, smirking. “You mean His Highness, don’t you? Word is he’s been visiting the nursery a lot lately.”
Lina’s blood ran cold. “Word? People are talking?”
“Of course people are talking,” Maren whispered. “The crown prince doesn’t stroll into the nursery for no reason. Half the palace is wondering why.”
Lina sank into a chair, burying her face in her hands. This was exactly what she’d feared. It wasn’t just dangerous—it was reckless.
Maren’s smirk softened. “Careful, Lina. The walls here have ears. You don’t want to end up in gossip you can’t survive.”
“I don’t want to be in gossip at all,” Lina groaned.
But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, her mind kept circling back to Ethan—his low voice, the way his eyes softened around the children, the faint curve of his lips when she said something outrageous.
She should be terrified. Instead, she was… curious.
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Meanwhile, Ethan stood in his chambers, listening absently as his advisor droned about trade agreements. His thoughts were not on politics but on a nanny with fire in her eyes.
It unsettled him. He had met countless noblewomen—beautiful, polished, perfectly trained to please. None of them had ever dared challenge him, laugh at him, or tell him outright that a dragon looked like a potato.
And yet, when Lina spoke, he found himself listening.
Too closely.
When the advisor finally left, Ethan leaned back in his chair, staring at the flickering flames in the hearth. He should stop visiting the nursery. He should bury this strange curiosity before it became something more.
But deep down, he already knew he wouldn’t.
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That night, as Lina drifted off to sleep in her small chamber near the nursery, she dreamed of a man she had no business thinking about. And in another wing of the palace, the prince she feared and admired in equal measure dreamed too—though he would never admit it.
For in their separate hearts, fate had already begun to weave a dangerous thread.
- Writer
