The Vain Princess and Her Dragon Knight

Chapter 7

On the first morning of the New Year, Gloria slept until nearly noon.

The night before, Suka had been so captivated by her collection of rare swords that he'd nearly refused to leave her palace. It took Cui physically dragging him away to stop him from disturbing the princess's rest.

"Ah, Natasha, I'm awake..." Gloria murmured, then remembered—Natasha had taken a seven-day holiday. In her place were two newly appointed maids, both too timid around the princess to speak much. Hearing sounds from within, they exchanged glances before daring to enter, carrying washing supplies and a fresh gown, their footsteps whisper-soft.

Rumors had long circulated that Princess Gloria hated servants who talked. Offend her, it was said, and the King himself would see you thrown into the deepest, darkest prison tower.

Gloria would have rolled her eyes at such nonsense. She simply disliked noise; crowds made her frail body struggle for breath. So she reduced the number of attendants and asked those around her to keep quiet. Somehow, the outside world had twisted that into something far more sinister.

She sat up in her downy bed, her thick golden hair a wild mess. A stubborn cowlick stuck straight up atop her head, its tip swaying near her nose. Gloria stared blankly for a few seconds—then pressed it down. A moment later, it sprang back up. She gave up. Both her father and Gareth had the same cowlick. Let it be.

Only then did she notice the maid holding a new gown—pearl-white velvet, its collar lined with perfectly matched deep-sea pearls. "A gift from my brother?" she asked, as the other maid helped her wash and dress. "He came by this morning?"

"Yes, Your Highness," the maid Jenny answered hesitantly, stealing a nervous glance. "His Highness the Crown Prince is still waiting for you by the garden swing..."

Gloria took the comb and began brushing her long hair before the mirror. Only the soft shushing of ivory through gold filled the silence.

Jenny grew flustered at the lack of response. "Your Highness...?"

"Your name is Jenny, isn't it?" Gloria said slowly, her golden eyes unreadable in the mirror. "How much did my brother pay you to keep pressing his case, knowing full well I said yesterday I didn't want to see him?"

Jenny dropped to her knees in panic. "Your Highness, no, that's not—"

"Oh, I remember now. You were a gift from my brother to begin with." Gloria tilted her head thoughtfully. "It makes sense you'd obey him."

A maid shouldn't have two masters. Jenny's face went pale. "I-I'm sorry, Your Highness. It won't happen again, I swear!"

She was terrified of that prison tower. She was young, and pretty—one of the prettier maids.

Gloria paused, the comb still in her hand. She blinked, as if surfacing from a thought. "Forget it. I was just talking. Get up." As Jenny rose shakily, Gloria added, "The matron should have told you—I don't like people kneeling to me. It shortens my lifespan."

Jenny blinked. What a strange notion. But she didn't dare ask. "Leave the gown. Both of you, go."

---

Once alone, Gloria walked to the full-length mirror instead of dressing. She studied herself: pale skin, golden hair, cheeks still flushed pink from sleep. Cute. Vibrant. Alive.

She sighed.

Her morning moodiness had a reason. She'd had a strange, awful dream. In it, she was a scruffy little mouse, chased by giant, brutal rats. They'd gnawed off her golden fur in patches, even leaving a bald spot on her head. All night she'd fled desperately. When she stopped to rest, she spotted another mouse just like her—yet that one was pampered and protected by all the giant rats, who glanced at Gloria with such viciousness that another mouthful of her fur was torn away.

Of course she'd woken furious. Only now, confirming her reflection was intact, did the knot in her chest loosen.

"Don't worry, Rori," she told the mirror. "Dreams are reversed. If I ever become a mouse, I'll be the big one doing the chasing."

---

Outside, Jenny exhaled shakily. "The princess was in such a temper," she whispered to the other maid, Jane. "I'd hoped for a New Year's tip. Is she always like this?"

Jane glanced at her. "She doesn't get angry unless people speak out of turn."

Jenny's smile stiffened. But Jane was close to the old matron; she couldn't snap back. Jane, ever gentle, added, "The princess likes quiet. Just be mindful next time. The matron says she rarely holds grudges." Jenny said nothing. Jane, seeing she wasn't listening, paused. "If you'd rather return to the Crown Prince's service, I can speak to Her Highness for you."

Hope flared in Jenny's eyes, then dimmed. "No... better not." Gareth spent all his free time in his sister's palace anyway. Working among his flowers, she'd see him even less than she did here. And Jenny had confidence in her face. She wasn't as beautiful as the Pearl Princess, of course—but compared to most noble ladies, she far outshone them. Someday the Crown Prince would notice her. He'd fall for her. She was sure of it.

---

Gareth sat on his sister's swing, long legs crossed, and looked up at the sound of familiar footsteps. "Good morning, my Rori."

"It's not morning anymore." Gloria smoothed her skirts and twirled. "The gown is lovely. Thank you, brother."

"Don't thank me. As long as you're happy, I'm content." His stern, handsome face softened only for her. He patted the space beside him. "Shall we swing together?"

She almost said yes—then caught something in his eyes, a focus so intense it nearly pulled her in. She stepped back. "No, it's too small. Our weight would break it." She sat in a nearby chair instead, lowering her gaze and fiddling idly with the pearls at her collar.

Gareth's voice held a faint sadness. "I used to hold you on this swing. At the highest point, you could see the outermost palace walls." He rose, came to sit beside her, and touched her golden hair. "My Rori has grown up."

Gloria made a vague sound of agreement, not particularly interested in his nostalgia. She shifted slightly to make room for him, still distracted. Something felt missing today. What was it? The glint of Gareth's silver bracer caught her eye, and she remembered—her knight was on leave. Without that quietly lethal shadow beside her, an unfamiliar sense of vulnerability had crept in. She'd never felt it before with Gareth; she trusted him as she trusted their father. But today everything felt slightly... off. Even the way Gareth looked at her. It must be that horrible dream still haunting her.

She shook her head. No. She'd go back to bed and dream of being a mighty cat, chasing all the rats away.

Gareth watched her shake her head, her attention drifting. His eyes darkened a fraction. "What's wrong, Rori?" he asked, voice smooth. "Thinking about the new friends from last night?"

But Gloria was immune to her brother's charms. "Nothing. Just a bad dream."

"Will you share it with me?"

"No. It was disgusting." Even thinking of rats made her stomach turn. She rubbed her temple.

"Does your head ache?" Gareth's large hand covered her fingers, gently massaging her forehead. "Should I help you lie down? I'll stay with you."

"Stay... in bed with me?" She went still. The warmth of his palm, the way it nearly swallowed her entire forehead. She realized how close they were. Another inch, and her nose would brush his.

This was not how siblings sat together. The original Gloria, born to this world, would have thought nothing of it. But this Gloria still carried memories from her past life—and the novels teachers and parents had absolutely f*******n. Sixteen-year-old siblings didn't share a bed, no matter how close.

---

A flicker of regret crossed Gareth's face. Her god-given golden eyes were too clear, too pure—no filth could hide in them. And now those eyes held only confusion, a wary little hamster tensed against the world. He had moved too fast. Last night, hearing that his sister had returned to her chambers surrounded by three men, he hadn't slept a moment. His Rori, the Empire's brightest pearl, hidden so carefully inside her thick shell—was she finally drawing the eyes of other men? Why couldn't things be as they were when they were children, just the two of them?

His lips curved into the soft, practiced smile of a perfect mask. His voice, ever gentle: "Just beside your bed, little Rori. Like when you were small, and you'd demand I hold your hand before you could sleep."

Gloria flushed at the memory, the issue of proximity immediately forgotten. "That was your fault! Telling ghost stories on rainy nights—when the wind blew the curtains, it was terrifying!"

"Yes, it was my fault."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child anymore," she protested.

"Of course. My Rori is a grown woman now."

Under his soothing tone, all her earlier unease melted away. Soon, she had entirely forgotten that brief, strange moment—and was once again the best of friends with her big brother Gareth.

---

With Gareth's company, Gloria forgot all about her absent knight. Three days later, during her daily sunbathing period in the rear garden, she was about to head out when she ran straight into Elstar, just returned.

"Oh! You're back already?" Her tone suggested she'd expected him to be gone much longer.

Elstar said nothing. Clearly, the princess had not thought of him at all. But he—every second, every breath—had been filled with thoughts of her. The dragon's golden eyes shifted slowly to the shimmering princess. His mood lifted, the corner of his eye curving with pleasure.

Gloria's golden hair and Gloria herself were, to his simple, primal mind, inseparable. A flower needed rich soil to stay vibrant and alive; her hair needed to grow on her head to hold its irresistible pull. Missing her hair was, to a straightforward dragon, the same thing as missing her.

---

Sunlight slanted across the marble floor. Gloria had dressed carefully, her golden hair perfectly arranged. One small pink shoe stepped over the threshold, a corner of her layered skirt peeking out like a shy, budding flower.

The silver helmet hid the dragon's predatory stare and his greedy hunger, sharpened by days without seeing her. He could shatter a city with ease, but before this fragile pearl, he drew in every trace of his power, holding himself perfectly still. The tall knight climbed the stairs toward her, his back blotting out the sun. His silver armor clinked softly with each step until his shadow had completely swallowed the princess.

Gloria, unaware, looked up. "Elstar, I'm going for my walk in the garden. Are you coming?"

"Mm."

"Then let's go. My brother's waiting."

Brother? So that was the unfamiliar, unwelcome scent. Elstar lifted his head slightly. His gaze seemed to pierce the distance. "His Highness Gareth has been summoned urgently by the King. He's no longer in the garden."

"Oh." She didn't need him anyway. "My brother has been suspiciously idle these past few days. I almost thought the crown had passed to someone else. Him being busy today—that's normal."

Elstar paused. Whatever thoughts passed behind his helmet, they went unspoken. Gloria moved past him, her skirts falling back over her pink shoes, the pearl-white sash at her waist swaying with her stride, her golden hair tangling in the breeze. As she brushed past, the soft tips of her golden hair swept across the silver armor at his side—where the plates were thinner, designed for movement. The touch passed straight through, ghosting across his skin.

Elstar's eyes flew wide. Time seemed to dilate, every sensation drawn into an eternity. His back went rigid, his throat moved, his arm half-lifted as if to catch something. But when he steadied his breath and looked up, the princess was already far ahead.