The Alliance

Chapter 17: Wistful thinking

Jasmine’s heart races as she step into Princess Bianca’s chambers, the lingering warmth of Prince Edmund’s touch still burning on her skin. She clutches the golden locket tightly, her breaths uneven as she tries to steady herself. Inside, Bianca sits by the window to let the evening breeze soothe the healing balm on her face—she narrows her brows, her eyes sharp with disgust as she turns to face Jasmine.

“You’re late,” Bianca says curtly, rising to her feet. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten who you were pretending to be.”

Jasmine hesitates, unsure of how to begin. “I… I’m sorry,” she murmurs.

Bianca crosses her arms, her gaze boring into her. “Don’t waste my time with apologies. Tell me everything. What did he say? What did he do?”

Jasmine swallows hard and sits down on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling in her lap. “He… he organized a picnic under a canopy by the garden,” she began, her voice soft. “There were lanterns, candles, fruits, wine… it was beautiful. He gave me this.” She opens her hand to reveal the golden locket.

Bianca’s eyes flicks to the locket before she scoffs. “Keep it. I don’t want his trinkets.”

Jasmine hesitates. “But it was meant for you—”

“Keep it,” Bianca snaps, her tone impatient. “Now, what else?”

Jasmine looks down, her cheeks flushing. “He complimented the portrait… said it didn’t do me justice. He… he lifted the veil and saw my face.”

Bianca stiffens, her jaw tightening. “He saw your face?”

“Yes,” Jasmine admits quietly. “He said I was beautiful.”

“And then what?” Bianca demands, her voice sharp. “What happened after that?”

Jasmine hesitates, the memory of the kiss making her heart flutter. “He kissed me… lightly.”

Bianca’s eyes narrows. “And? Did you kiss him back?”

“I… I didn’t know what to do,” Jasmine confess, her voice trembling. “I ran away, and he followed me. He walked me back here.”

“You ran?” Bianca’s voice is laced with irritation. “You ran away from the prince? Do you have any idea how foolish that makes me look? And where is the veil?”

“I lost it,” Jasmine whispers, guilt weighing heavily on her.

Bianca groans, pacing the room. “You’re hopeless. You can’t afford to make mistakes like this,Jasmine. Do you think I’ve worked this hard just for you to ruin everything? You need to indulge him, not flee like a scared child. The last thing we need is for him to grow suspicious.”

Jasmine nods, her head bowed. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t fix anything,” Bianca snaps. “From now on, you’ll stay calm, poised, and composed. If he kisses you again, you’ll let him. If he speaks to you, you’ll respond with confidence. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Jasmine replies quietly.

Bianca sighs, her frustration evident. “Go. Get some rest. And don’t mess this up again.”

Jasmine stands, clutching the locket as she leaves the room.

Back in her chambers, Jasmine sits by the small window, the golden locket resting in her palm. The intricate design glimmers in the moonlight, and she cannot help but smile as she traces its edges with her fingers. She replays the evening in her mind—the prince’s deep, earnest voice, the warmth of his gaze, the way he had looked at her as though she were the only woman in the world.

Her heart aches with longing as she remembers the kiss. It had been brief, almost innocent, but it has stirred something deep within her. She close her eyes, imagining what it would have been like to stay, to kiss him longer, to let herself be swept away by the moment.

She leans against the window, her fingers brushing her lips as she sighs. “If only…” she whispers to herself, her thoughts drifting to a parallel life where she could be free to love him without guilt or fear.

Sleep evades her as she gaze at the locket, the prince’s kind words replaying in her mind. She wonders what he is doing, if he is thinking about her, if he had felt the same spark she had. A part of her cannot wait to see him again, despite the impossible circumstances.

Across the castle, Prince Phillip stands on the balcony of his chambers, staring out at the starry sky. The cool night air does little to ease the turmoil in his heart. He can still feel the softness of her lips against his, the way her wide eyes had looked up at him before she fled.

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration and longing swirling within him. “Why did she run?” he mutters to himself. “She… she felt it too, didn’t she?”

He shakes his head, trying to make sense of her reaction. She had seemed shy, almost scared, but there has been no denying the connection between them. He can still see the way her cheeks had flushed, the way her voice had trembled—so soft, almost hesitant.

Phillip sighs, his fingers brushing his lips. “She’s different from what I expected,” he murmurs. “But maybe that’s what draws me to her.”

His thoughts drifts to the portrait, to the locket he had given her, to the way she had looked at him as though he were the only man who existed. He smiles faintly, anticipation building in his chest. “I’ll make her see that there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he vows quietly.

As the hours pass, Phillip finds himself unable to sleep, his mind consumed by thoughts of the mysterious woman he believes is his bride-to-be.