Chapter 5
1759 Words
The girl in front of him giggled, looking down with a blush, concealing her beautiful face—one that did nothing but highlight the light makeup she had used.
The kohl made her black eyes darker, enchanting anyone who looked into them.
He could tell she had taken her time dressing. Her gown and jewelry were more suited for a royal function than a formal meeting.
She had dressed to impress him. He knew it from the way she looked at him and how she couldn’t stop glancing at him from time to time.
Her voice was pleasant, spoken just loud enough for him to hear, as if her words were reserved only for him.
Her caramel-brown tresses cascaded over her shoulders and framed her oval face, hiding her swan-like neck.
The cream gown she had chosen complemented her skin, giving her an appearance as though she were glowing.
Long-sleeved, floor-length, custom-made—stunning, elegant, and fabulously expensive.
The low scoop neckline made it easy to see the necklace adorned with rare gemstones, a clear display of her country’s wealth and status.
He could tell the dress was mulberry silk—the highest quality—imported from foreign lands, without even inspecting it closely.
There was no mistaking it: she was a princess, not merely a noblewoman.
Certain garments were reserved solely for royalty, luxuries forbidden to commoners—even if they could somehow afford them.
She blushed again when she noticed him staring for too long. He quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.
Turning his attention to the room, he noted the screen behind him, where his mother and Nora sat. The princess’s maids were seated on the opposite side with her two guards, separated by another screen.
Ryan hadn’t wanted to attend this at all, but his parents had forced him. This was what he dreaded most—formal meetings with princesses who were interested in him, or introductions meant to see if he would become interested in them.
Only four days had passed since he completed the responsibility his mother had given him—playing the gracious host to foreign guests and ensuring their comfort.
And only one day had passed since the formal meetings had begun. The letter requesting his presence had arrived while he was with his family, and they had arranged it immediately. Had it arrived when he was alone, he would have tossed it straight into the fireplace.
Once again, he was stuffed into suffocating royal attire and forced to attend with chaperones. He was, in fact, grateful for them—otherwise, he would have been left alone with her.
She was shyly explaining details about her country. He didn’t know what to say, so he encouraged her to continue, hoping it would make him seem engaged rather than bored out of his mind. He also didn’t want to anger his mother, who was listening from behind the screen.
Why?
Why wasn’t he interested in her, when so many others were? She was more beautiful than most, commanding attention just like the mermaid princess.
Then why?
The girl in front of him, Stella Preston, was the Princess of Cherryland—a land famous for cherry blossoms. Despite the delicate name, Cherryland’s economy thrived on weapon-making, and it had withstood many wars.
She was not only beautiful but intelligent, as evident from the way she spoke about her country and her interests.
Then why?
Why did he feel nothing for the woman sitting before him?
Why were turquoise eyes overshadowing Stella’s black ones?
Why was he unimpressed by her expensive gown and elegant demeanor?
Stella’s beauty was nothing compared to hers.
Her black eyes could not enchant him the way those turquoise eyes did.
Stella’s narrow waist did not entice him the way hers had when he caught her.
Why was he—a prince who should be pleased by a perfect match—completely uninterested?
Why?
The reason was—
Zelda.
Zelda.
Zelda.
Zelda.
The name that had been looping in his mind for the past four days.
God, how he wished he had never met her.
Four days felt like four years, spent wallowing in a misery he couldn’t define. He was angry with himself for feeling disappointed and heartbroken over the fact that she was a mermaid.
He still remembered how his heartbeat had accelerated when he finally saw her—only to learn her true identity. The sorrow that followed was something he couldn’t explain and had shared with no one. He had endured it silently, gritting his teeth while questioning the head maid.
He couldn’t bring himself to speak to her.
A week of exhausting effort had been rendered meaningless the moment he learned the truth.
How could he justify all that effort—to meet her, to apologize?
He was fortunate when the minister beside him asked her name for the records.
“Zelda.”
Her dulcet tone sent a shiver through him. Though she had spoken only one word, he remembered it vividly—the shape of her lips, the way they moved. He had watched her the entire time, unable to look away.
He knew it was improper to stare, yet he couldn’t stop himself.
He had noticed the way her full lips invited him to—
No.
Nope.
He was not going there.
The meeting ended, and when he finally gathered his senses to approach her and apologize properly, she was gone. Soon, he was trapped in his relatives’ nagging and his mother’s insistence that he meet girls and send letters.
That was when Stella Preston’s letter arrived. Unfortunately, his mother wouldn’t listen to his objections.
Now, sitting across from her, he felt nothing but mild irritation at her admiration. She had likely heard the rumors and decided his status made him desirable.
“It seems you’re distracted, my lord.”
She was perceptive enough to see through his composed expression.
My lord?
She had decided to address him informally without permission. He didn’t correct her—his mother would likely be thrilled, and he’d receive a lecture later.
“No,” he replied calmly. “I was simply imagining your country from your description, Princess Preston.”
He pressed the word Princess deliberately, though she likely wouldn’t notice—or would choose to ignore it.
“I’m sorry if I spoke too much, my lord. I love my country and tend to ramble.”
Her practiced blush didn’t distract him from the emphasis she placed on my lord.
He felt like screaming.
Just a few more minutes, he told himself. Formal meetings were strictly limited to two hours.
And of course, he was paired with someone determined to use every second.
He nodded, saying nothing, knowing politeness demanded a response—but he no longer cared.
“I enjoyed our time together, my lord. I hope you did as well.”
He wanted to say no way in hell, but instead offered a polite smile—careful not to nod.
Just leave me alone.
He checked the clock. Five minutes left.
God—five more minutes.
She gestured repeatedly, drawing attention to her glittering bangles. He nearly rolled his eyes but remained impassive.
She looked distressed as the time dwindled, while he couldn’t be happier.
She startled him by rising abruptly and stepping closer. Disgust flared at her boldness.
When time was finally called, he stood, putting distance between them. He ignored her pout.
He smiled politely, nodded once to signal the end, and turned toward the door—only to be stopped.
“I look forward to your letter, my lord.”
Never.
He walked away, ignoring etiquette entirely.
A month from now, replies would be sent—if interest existed.
No one could force him to write to her.
He exited without waiting for his mother or Nora.
He was done.
Completely done.
It was rude, yes—but he didn’t f*****g care anymore.
He slipped his foot into the stirrup and mounted the saddle with ease. It wasn’t anything special—everyone around him had learned to do the same from childhood.
The horse took a few brisk steps before settling into a steady walk as he adjusted.
Willa, his beloved horse, glared at him—offended by his choice of another mount. The look screamed betrayal.
He patted her apologetically. She huffed and turned away. He chuckled at her possessiveness.
But for today, he couldn’t choose her.
A new herd of imported horses had been trained for months and released for riding.
To entertain the guests, a friendly horse race had been arranged, each rider choosing from the herd.
Ryan had already won two rounds, riding different horses each time. For the final round, he chose a white stallion with a temper—one the others avoided.
It was magnificent: a wedge-shaped head, large eyes, arched neck, laid-back shoulders, strong hooves—perfect for racing.
He calmed it with gentle strokes and murmured reassurances.
Riding exhilarated him. It felt like flying—one of the few pleasures in his monotonous life.
The past two days had been unbearable: lectures from his father, pressure from his mother to choose Stella.
He wanted to forget everything.
He wanted to race—free and unburdened.
He loved animals, especially horses. Though Willa was his favorite, today required something different.
How wrong he was.
This wasn’t friendly.
Pride drove the princes, lords, and earls.
A crowd gathered—including his father and the king. Princesses watched with interest, fueling competition.
At the starting line, he met Ivor.
“Ready to lose, dear cousin?”
“Not at all, Your Highness.”
Ivor grimaced at the formality.
Ryan smiled inwardly. What choice did he have?
“I’ll see you at the end, my friend.”
Ryan turned and smiled at the man beside him—Prince Bram Hyrick of Musa.
Despite his title, Bram was casual and friendly. Ryan valued that.
“I’ll meet you there, Prince Hyrick.”
With a bow, Ryan focused ahead, soothing the horse.
Excitement buzzed.
The signal sounded.
He kicked forward.
The two-mile race demanded full speed. Trees flanked the path, branches looming, but Ryan navigated with ease.
Everything else vanished.
Worry. Tension. Thoughts.
Only exhilaration remained.
The stallion surged ahead—wild, fast, magnificent.
At the turn, he saw Ivor just behind him.
Ryan smirked and urged the horse on, gripping the reins tighter.
Nothing thrilled him like this.
Wind whipped his hair as laughter burst from him.
He had never felt happier.
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- Writer
