Happiness
5000 Words
The sun had begun its descent beyond the distant mountains.
The once-bright sky was slowly turning gold, the last rays of daylight stretching across the fields and bathing the abandoned village in a warm, almost peaceful glow.
Almost.
The distant sounds of war still lingered beyond the hills.
Every now and then, a faint rumble could be heard from somewhere beyond the forest.
Sapherina had grown accustomed to those sounds.
She had learned not to look toward them.
Instead, she focused on the young man leaning heavily against her shoulder.
“Careful.”
“I am being careful.”
“You're about to fall again.”
“I am not.”
Lucien Arcenvale took another step.
His leg nearly gave way.
Sapherina quickly caught him.
He looked down at her hand around his arm.
Then he looked away.
“I told you I could walk.”
“And I told you that you could barely stand.”
“I can stand perfectly well.”
“You almost fell into the bushes.”
“That was the ground.”
Sapherina blinked.
“The ground?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him for a moment.
Then she laughed.
Lucien frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're laughing at me.”
“No.”
“You are.”
Sapherina tried to suppress her smile.
“I just think you're funny.”
“I am not funny.”
“You are.”
“I assure you, I am not.”
She shook her head.
“You're very strange.”
Lucien gave her an irritated look.
He was accustomed to people becoming nervous whenever they disagreed with him.
Not laughing.
Certainly not laughing directly at him.
Yet Sapherina didn't seem afraid.
She didn't know who he was.
She didn't know that the young man struggling to walk beside her was Lucien Arcenvale, the Imperial Prince.
She only knew that he was injured.
And, to Sapherina, that was enough.
She tightened her grip around his arm.
“Come on.”
“I don't need assistance.”
“You do.”
“I don't.”
“You're leaning on me.”
Lucien glanced down.
He was.
He immediately straightened himself.
Sapherina smiled.
“See?”
“Be quiet.”
She laughed again.
The two continued down the narrow road.
The village gradually came into view.
It was small.
Much smaller than the towns Lucien had visited during his travels.
The houses were scattered unevenly across the land, most of them built from wood and stone.
Some stood abandoned.
Others had been damaged by the war.
The fields surrounding the village were no longer as lively as they once must have been.
Many had been left untended.
The war had driven most of the villagers away.
Only a few families remained.
Sapherina's home stood at the very edge of the village.
A simple wooden house surrounded by a small field.
There were vegetables growing near the fence.
Bundles of herbs hung beside the windows.
A few chickens wandered around the yard.
Lucien looked at the house.
“This is where you live?”
Sapherina nodded.
“Yes.”
“You live here?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Usually with my father.”
“Your father?”
“My adoptive father.”
Lucien looked at her.
“Adoptive?”
Sapherina nodded.
“He found me when I was very young.”
“And raised you?”
“Yes.”
“What does he do?”
“He's a farmer.”
Lucien glanced around.
“A farmer?”
Sapherina smiled.
“An old one.”
She looked toward the house.
“He's also very stubborn.”
Lucien almost smiled.
“Then you have something in common.”
Sapherina looked at him.
“What?”
“You're stubborn too.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“I have good reason.”
“So does Father.”
Lucien shook his head.
“You're impossible.”
“And you're still leaning on me.”
He immediately straightened.
Sapherina laughed.
They reached the house.
She tried the door.
Locked.
She frowned.
“Father isn't back yet.”
“Where is he?”
“He went to trade the harvest.”
Lucien's expression became slightly more serious.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“He hasn't returned?”
“Not yet.”
She looked toward the road.
“He may have been delayed.”
“Because of the war?”
“Perhaps.”
Lucien's eyes narrowed.
The war had made traveling dangerous.
A farmer carrying harvested goods could easily be stopped by soldiers, bandits, or desperate villagers.
“You should be worried.”
“I am.”
She took a small key from her pocket.
“But Father always comes home.”
She unlocked the door.
Lucien looked at her.
There was something about the confidence in her voice that caught his attention.
She wasn't pretending not to worry.
She simply trusted her father.
Lucien couldn't remember ever trusting anyone that completely.
Sapherina opened the door.
“Come inside.”
Lucien stepped through.
The first thing he noticed was how small the house was.
There was a wooden table near the window.
Two chairs.
A small stove.
A few shelves.
Several clay pots.
Bundles of dried herbs.
A worn wooden chest.
And one bedroom.
That was all.
There was no expensive furniture.
No decorations made of gold.
No paintings.
No servants.
No guards.
Nothing resembling the palace.
Lucien stood silently.
Sapherina noticed his expression.
“It's not much.”
He looked at her.
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
Lucien sighed.
“Fine.”
Sapherina smiled.
“Sit down.”
“I can stand.”
“You're injured.”
“I know.”
“You've been walking for hours.”
“I know.”
“Then sit.”
Lucien stared at her.
She pointed toward the chair.
He eventually sat.
Sapherina smiled.
“Good.”
She walked toward the kitchen.
Lucien watched her.
“What are you doing?”
“Making dinner.”
“I don't need dinner.”
“You haven't eaten since earlier.”
“I can wait.”
“No.”
Lucien raised an eyebrow.
“No?”
“No.”
She opened a cupboard.
“You're going to eat.”
“You're giving me orders.”
“Someone has to.”
Lucien stared at her.
He couldn't decide whether he found her irritating or amusing.
Probably both.
Sapherina began preparing the meal.
She gathered vegetables from the basket near the kitchen.
She chopped them carefully.
She added herbs.
She prepared some bread.
Lucien watched silently.
He had seen servants prepare meals thousands of times.
Yet he had never watched anyone do it like this.
There was no elaborate preparation.
No dozen servants.
No silver utensils.
No expensive ingredients.
Just a girl cooking dinner in her family's kitchen.
It was strangely peaceful.
The smell of food soon filled the house.
Lucien's stomach growled.
He immediately frowned.
Sapherina looked over her shoulder.
She smiled.
“I heard that.”
“You didn't.”
“I did.”
“You imagined it.”
She laughed.
“Of course.”
Lucien looked away.
A few minutes later, Sapherina placed two bowls on the table.
“There.”
Lucien looked at the food.
A simple vegetable stew.
Fresh bread.
A small serving of roasted vegetables.
Nothing extravagant.
He picked up his spoon.
Sapherina sat across from him.
“Well?”
Lucien tasted the stew.
He paused.
It was good.
Very good.
He took another bite.
Sapherina watched him.
“Well?”
Lucien continued eating.
“It's acceptable.”
Sapherina's eyebrows rose.
“Acceptable?”
“Yes.”
“You don't like it?”
“I didn't say that.”
“You said it was acceptable.”
“It is.”
“That doesn't sound like praise.”
“I wasn't praising it.”
Sapherina folded her arms.
“You're terrible at compliments.”
“I don't give compliments.”
“I noticed.”
She took a bite of her own meal.
Lucien continued eating.
Soon, his bowl was nearly empty.
Sapherina looked at it.
“You seem to like it.”
Lucien stopped.
“I was hungry.”
“Of course.”
“I would eat anything right now.”
“Of course.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“Stop saying that.”
She smiled.
“Why?”
“Because you don't believe me.”
“I believe you.”
“You don't.”
“I do.”
Lucien sighed.
He returned to his food.
Sapherina continued eating quietly.
The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable.
It was simply quiet.
Something Lucien wasn't used to.
At the palace, silence was rarely peaceful.
Silence meant someone was waiting.
Silence meant someone was watching.
Silence meant that a conversation was about to begin.
Here, silence meant nothing.
It was simply silence.
For the first time in a long while, Lucien found himself enjoying it.
---
After dinner, Sapherina gathered the dishes.
“I'll wash them.”
Lucien looked up.
“I can help.”
She stopped.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Wash dishes?”
“Yes.”
Sapherina looked skeptical.
“Have you ever washed dishes?”
Lucien hesitated.
“No.”
She smiled.
“I thought so.”
“I can learn.”
“Maybe tomorrow.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“Because you're injured.”
“I can still help.”
“You need rest.”
“I don't.”
“You do.”
Lucien sighed.
“You're very persistent.”
“So are you.”
She carried the dishes into the kitchen.
Lucien remained seated.
He looked around the house again.
There was something strange about this place.
It was poor.
He could tell that immediately.
The furniture was old.
The walls needed repairs.
The roof probably leaked during heavy rain.
There was barely enough food for two people.
And yet...
It felt warm.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
There was something about the house that made him feel strangely calm.
Perhaps it was because nobody here expected anything from him.
Sapherina didn't know his identity.
She didn't know his position.
She didn't know his wealth.
To her, he was simply an injured stranger.
Lucien leaned back.
His eyes closed.
For a moment, he allowed himself to relax.
Then Sapherina spoke.
“You can sleep there.”
Lucien opened his eyes.
She was holding a blanket and pillow.
She placed them on the floor beside the bed.
“You'll sleep here.”
Lucien stared.
“On the floor?”
“Yes.”
“You expect me to sleep on the floor?”
“You're the guest.”
“I should sleep on the bed.”
Sapherina shook her head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you're injured.”
“I can sleep on the floor.”
“You'll make your injury worse.”
“I've slept in worse places.”
She looked at him.
“Really?”
Lucien paused.
“Yes.”
She didn't question him.
Instead, she placed the pillow down.
“Fine.”
She pointed toward the bed.
“I'll sleep there.”
Lucien frowned.
“You'll sleep on the bed?”
“Yes.”
“And I'll sleep here?”
“Yes.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does to me.”
She walked toward the bed.
Lucien stared at her.
He was about to protest when another thought occurred to him.
Why was she doing this?
Why was she helping him so much?
She had fed him.
She had brought him into her home.
She had treated his wounds.
She had given him a place to sleep.
And she hadn't asked for anything.
Lucien's expression hardened.
There had to be a reason.
There was always a reason.
He had been taught that since childhood.
People didn't give without expecting something in return.
Kindness was a currency.
Trust was a weakness.
Affection was a weapon.
His mother had taught him all of it.
Especially his mother.
Lucien looked at Sapherina.
“Wait.”
She turned.
“What?”
“What do you want?”
Sapherina blinked.
“What?”
“What do you want from me?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Yes.”
Lucien's eyes narrowed.
“Everyone wants something.”
“Not everyone.”
“You're helping me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you needed help.”
“That isn't enough.”
“It is for me.”
Lucien stood.
“You don't know who I am.”
Sapherina tilted her head.
“No.”
“You don't know anything about me.”
“I know you're injured.”
“That is all?”
“Yes.”
Lucien stared at her.
He couldn't understand her.
“You could ask for money.”
“No.”
“Gold.”
“No.”
“Jewels.”
“No.”
“Land.”
Sapherina shook her head.
“I don't want any of those things.”
“Then what do you want?”
She looked at him with genuine confusion.
“Why do I have to want something?”
Lucien had no answer.
Sapherina smiled softly.
“You needed help.”
“So you helped me?”
“Yes.”
“That's it?”
“Yes.”
Lucien looked away.
Her answer was so simple that it almost frustrated him.
She continued.
“If I saw someone injured and left them there, I wouldn't be able to sleep peacefully.”
Lucien looked back at her.
“Why?”
“Because I would know I could have helped.”
She shrugged.
“That's all.”
He remained silent.
Sapherina walked over to the bed.
“My father taught me that.”
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
She sat down.
“When he found me, he didn't ask who I was.”
Lucien listened.
“He didn't ask what I could give him.”
She looked down at her hands.
“He simply found a child who needed somewhere safe.”
Her voice softened.
“So he brought me home.”
Lucien's chest tightened slightly.
He didn't know why.
Perhaps because he had never been treated that way.
His entire childhood had been built around what he could become.
He wasn't simply Lucien.
He was the Imperial Prince.
The future ruler.
The heir.
The son of the Emperor.
A political piece.
A weapon to be sharpened.
His mother had always reminded him of that.
You must be worthy.
You must be stronger.
You must never allow anyone to surpass you.
One day, you will inherit everything.
There had never been a simple question.
Are you happy?
Nobody had ever asked.
Lucien looked toward Sapherina.
She was smiling.
“You're thinking too much.”
He frowned.
“How do you know?”
“You have the face of someone thinking too much.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It does.”
She pulled the blanket over herself.
“You should sleep.”
Lucien looked at the floor.
Then at the bed.
Then at Sapherina.
“You take the bed.”
She smiled.
“No.”
“I insist.”
“And I insist that you take it.”
“Why?”
“Because you're injured.”
“I can manage.”
“You're stubborn.”
“So are you.”
She laughed softly.
“Good night, Your—”
She stopped herself.
Lucien's eyes narrowed.
“What were you about to say?”
“Nothing.”
“You were going to say something.”
Sapherina smiled.
“Good night.”
She turned away.
Lucien remained standing.
Something about the way she had almost addressed him made him suspicious.
But perhaps it was nothing.
He eventually lay down on the floor.
The blanket was thin.
The pillow was old.
The floor was hard.
He had slept in military camps before, but somehow this felt different.
There were no guards outside.
No servants.
No officers waiting for him.
No one reminding him of his duties.
Only the quiet sounds of the village.
Lucien stared at the ceiling.
He could hear Sapherina breathing softly.
He closed his eyes.
For the first time that day...
He felt safe.
---
Morning came quietly.
Sunlight entered through the small window.
Sapherina woke first.
She sat up and looked toward the floor.
Lucien was still asleep.
His black hair was disheveled.
His usual stern expression had disappeared.
Without his arrogance and coldness, he looked younger.
Almost peaceful.
Sapherina smiled.
“He looks different when he's asleep.”
She quietly got out of bed.
She went outside to collect water.
When she returned, Lucien was awake.
He was sitting on the floor, staring at the ceiling.
“Good morning.”
He looked at her.
“Good morning.”
“How do you feel?”
“Better.”
“Your wound?”
“Still hurts.”
Sapherina nodded.
“That means it's healing.”
“That's not how healing works.”
She smiled.
“I know.”
She placed the water down.
“Let me see.”
“I can handle it.”
“Let me see.”
Lucien sighed.
She carefully checked his bandages.
The wound was still serious, but the bleeding had stopped.
“You're lucky.”
“I know.”
“You should rest another day.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“I have to return.”
“To your people?”
“Yes.”
Sapherina nodded.
She didn't argue.
She simply began preparing breakfast.
Lucien watched her.
“What are you making?”
“Eggs.”
“That's all?”
“And bread.”
He frowned.
“Again?”
Sapherina looked at him.
“You're free to cook something else.”
Lucien immediately looked away.
“No.”
She smiled.
“That's what I thought.”
Breakfast was served.
Lucien took a bite.
Then another.
Sapherina watched him.
“You like it.”
“I am hungry.”
“You're always hungry.”
“I've been injured.”
“That's true.”
She smiled.
They ate together.
There was something almost ordinary about it.
Lucien didn't understand why.
He had eaten thousands of meals throughout his life.
Yet he couldn't remember the last time eating had felt this peaceful.
At the palace, meals were events.
Servants stood behind every chair.
Nobles discussed politics.
His mother spoke about the throne.
His father discussed military campaigns.
Every meal was another reminder of his position.
Here, nobody cared.
Sapherina simply ate.
Sometimes she smiled.
Sometimes she laughed.
Sometimes she looked outside at the fields.
There was no hidden agenda.
No political conversation.
No expectations.
Lucien found himself wishing breakfast would last longer.
The thought surprised him.
---
By noon, Sapherina's father had still not returned.
Lucien noticed that she kept glancing toward the road.
“You're worried.”
Sapherina looked at him.
“A little.”
“Then why aren't you searching for him?”
“Because he knows how to travel.”
“You said the war has made the roads dangerous.”
“It has.”
“Then you should be more concerned.”
Sapherina smiled faintly.
“Father is stubborn.”
Lucien almost laughed.
“You say that often.”
“Because it's true.”
“He sounds like you.”
She looked offended.
“I'm not stubborn.”
Lucien raised an eyebrow.
She crossed her arms.
“Fine.”
He smiled.
Sapherina noticed.
“You smiled.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“I didn't.”
“I saw it.”
“You imagined it.”
She laughed.
Lucien looked away.
For some reason, he didn't mind her teasing anymore.
In fact...
He had begun looking forward to it.
---
That afternoon, Sapherina took Lucien outside.
“You should get some fresh air.”
“I've had enough fresh air.”
“You've been sitting inside all day.”
“Because I'm injured.”
“You'll recover faster if you move.”
“That's not medically accurate.”
She stared at him.
“You really do complain about everything.”
“I simply point out inaccuracies.”
Sapherina laughed.
They sat beneath an old tree overlooking the fields.
The wind moved gently through the leaves.
For a while, neither spoke.
Lucien looked across the landscape.
The village looked different from here.
The damage caused by the war was obvious.
But so was the beauty.
The fields were still green.
Wildflowers grew along the edges of the road.
Birds flew above the rooftops.
Children from the few remaining families played near the wells.
It was peaceful.
Too peaceful for a place so close to a battlefield.
Sapherina sat beside him.
“Beautiful, isn't it?”
Lucien nodded.
“Yes.”
“You've traveled a lot?”
“Yes.”
“Have you seen many places?”
“More than I can remember.”
“Which one was your favorite?”
Lucien thought.
He had seen magnificent cities.
Grand castles.
Beautiful gardens.
Snow-covered mountains.
Golden deserts.
Coastal kingdoms.
But none came immediately to mind.
“I don't know.”
Sapherina looked surprised.
“You don't have a favorite?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Lucien looked toward the village.
“Because everywhere I've been, I've always had somewhere I was supposed to be.”
Sapherina became quiet.
Lucien realized he had said more than he intended.
He looked away.
“Never mind.”
She didn't press him.
Instead, she smiled.
“Then perhaps you should stay somewhere you don't have to be.”
Lucien looked at her.
“What?”
“Just for a little while.”
She looked toward the sunset.
“No orders.”
“No responsibilities.”
“No people telling you where to go.”
Lucien stared at her.
“That's impossible.”
“Maybe.”
Sapherina smiled.
“But you can try.”
He didn't answer.
The wind moved through the trees.
For some reason, her words stayed with him.
---
That evening, Sapherina prepared dinner again.
This time, Lucien offered to help.
She looked surprised.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“What changed?”
“I've decided I don't want to be useless.”
Sapherina smiled.
“That's progress.”
She handed him a basket.
“Take these vegetables outside and wash them.”
Lucien looked at the vegetables.
Then at her.
“This?”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“Fine.”
He carried them outside.
Sapherina watched through the window.
He was terrible at it.
He dropped one.
Then another.
He rinsed one too thoroughly and nearly washed it away.
Sapherina covered her mouth to keep from laughing.
Lucien returned.
“These vegetables are difficult.”
“They're vegetables.”
“They keep slipping.”
“Because you're holding them incorrectly.”
“How do you hold a vegetable incorrectly?”
“Apparently, like you.”
He glared.
She laughed.
And this time...
Lucien laughed too.
It was brief.
Quiet.
Almost unfamiliar.
Sapherina looked at him.
He immediately stopped.
“What?”
“You laughed.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“I didn't.”
“You did.”
Lucien looked away.
“Perhaps.”
Sapherina smiled.
“It's nice.”
He didn't know what to say.
So he returned to washing vegetables.
---
Dinner was even better than the previous night.
Lucien ate quietly.
Sapherina smiled whenever she caught him taking another serving.
After they finished, she began cleaning.
Lucien stood.
“I'll wash them.”
She stared at him.
“You know how now?”
“I watched you.”
“That's not the same as knowing.”
“I'll learn.”
Sapherina handed him a bowl.
“Fine.”
Lucien carefully washed it.
He was slow.
Very slow.
Sapherina watched.
“You're concentrating very hard.”
“I don't want to break it.”
“It's a wooden bowl.”
“I know.”
“Then relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
“You look terrified.”
“I am not terrified.”
She laughed.
Eventually, he finished.
Sapherina took the bowl.
“Not bad.”
“Not bad?”
“For your first attempt.”
Lucien smiled faintly.
“I suppose that's a compliment.”
“It is.”
---
Night came.
Sapherina prepared the bed again.
She placed the blanket and pillow on the floor.
Lucien looked at them.
“You're still doing this?”
“Yes.”
“I told you I can sleep on the bed.”
“And I told you you're injured.”
“I've recovered.”
“You're still pale.”
“I am always pale.”
“Then you're always injured?”
Lucien sighed.
“You're impossible.”
Sapherina smiled.
She turned toward the bed.
“Good night.”
Lucien looked at her.
“Good night.”
He lay down.
The room became quiet.
But this time, something had changed.
He didn't feel like a stranger anymore.
He knew where the cups were.
He knew which window made a strange noise when the wind blew.
He knew where Sapherina kept the blankets.
He knew how she prepared dinner.
He knew the sound of her laughter.
The house was still small.
The bed was still old.
The floor was still uncomfortable.
But somehow...
It felt familiar.
Lucien closed his eyes.
He thought about his palace.
About his mother.
About the throne.
About his mission.
He would have to leave soon.
He knew that.
He couldn't stay here forever.
But for tonight...
He didn't want to think about tomorrow.
He simply wanted to sleep.
---
The next morning, Sapherina woke to find Lucien already outside.
She stepped out.
He was standing near the field.
“You're awake early.”
“I couldn't sleep.”
“Why?”
He looked toward the horizon.
“I was thinking.”
“Again?”
He glanced at her.
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“About what?”
“My life.”
Sapherina became quiet.
Lucien looked at her.
“Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if your father hadn't found you?”
She thought for a moment.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I don't know.”
She smiled.
“Maybe I wouldn't be here.”
“You're not afraid of that thought?”
“Sometimes.”
She looked toward the house.
“But Father found me.”
Lucien nodded.
“You trust him completely.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he gave me a home.”
Lucien looked down.
Sapherina continued.
“He didn't need to.”
She smiled.
“He could have walked away.”
“But he didn't.”
“No.”
She looked at Lucien.
“Sometimes, that's enough.”
Lucien remained silent.
He understood the words.
Perhaps more than he wanted to.
---
Later that day, Sapherina noticed Lucien staring toward the road.
“You're waiting for someone.”
“My knights.”
“You really have knights?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“I still don't believe you.”
Lucien frowned.
“Why?”
“Because you don't look like a Prince.”
He stared at her.
“What does a Prince look like?”
Sapherina thought.
“Someone surrounded by guards.”
Lucien nodded.
“That makes sense.”
“Someone wearing beautiful clothes.”
He looked down at his damaged clothing.
“Fair.”
“Someone who doesn't know how to wash vegetables.”
Lucien frowned.
“I am learning.”
Sapherina laughed.
“And someone who doesn't sleep on the floor.”
Lucien sighed.
“So you don't believe me.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“You're unbelievable.”
She smiled.
“And you're still here.”
Lucien looked toward the house.
“Yes.”
The answer came before he could think about it.
Sapherina noticed.
“Why?”
Lucien paused.
He could have said because he was injured.
Because he was waiting for his knights.
Because he had nowhere else to go.
All of those answers would have been true.
But none felt complete.
Finally, he said:
“Because it's peaceful.”
Sapherina smiled.
“Then stay.”
He looked at her.
“Just until your father comes home.”
Lucien nodded.
“All right.”
---
That evening, the two sat outside once more.
The sun began sinking behind the mountains.
The sky was painted with gold, orange, and deep red.
Sapherina watched quietly.
Lucien sat beside her.
Neither spoke.
The silence no longer felt strange.
It felt comfortable.
Lucien looked at the fields.
He thought about everything he had been taught.
He had been told that happiness came from power.
That strength brought respect.
That wealth brought freedom.
That the throne would give him everything he wanted.
But sitting there, he began to question it.
He had everything.
At least, that was what everyone told him.
And yet...
He had never felt this peaceful in the Imperial Palace.
Not once.
Here, he had almost nothing.
Yet he felt lighter.
Sapherina looked at him.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You look sad.”
Lucien shook his head.
“I was just thinking.”
“About the throne?”
He looked at her sharply.
“How did you know?”
“You mentioned being a Prince.”
Lucien froze.
Sapherina smiled.
“I was joking.”
He stared at her.
Then slowly, he realized she was teasing him.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“Then why did you laugh?”
“Because I didn't believe you at first.”
Lucien shook his head.
“You're unbelievable.”
Sapherina laughed.
He couldn't help smiling.
Then she looked toward the sunset.
“Do you regret coming here?”
Lucien thought about it.
“No.”
“Even though you were injured?”
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