Cold Hearts In Love.

Aurora stood by the window, gazing out at the gardens below, her thoughts restless and tangled. Eric's words had shaken her more than she cared to admit. 

To trust a stranger's claims over her own mother's intentions felt like a betrayal she couldn't bear. Her fingers brushed against her empty neck where the pendant used to hang, a pang of guilt twisting her chest.

That pendant had been her mother's gift—given with the promise of protection. How could she doubt it now? The weight of it all pressed down on her, leaving her heart heavy and her mind clouded.

She lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, pressing her palms to her temples as if trying to hold the pain at bay. Then, as if summoned by her turmoil, a vivid memory surfaced—a fleeting, disjointed image that brought with it a sharp, searing headache. 

"Argh!" she yelped in pain as she slumped against the bed, curling into herself as the storm within her raged. 

Why did these memories haunt her now? And why had they stayed buried until the pendant was lost? Was Eric saying the truth? As the pain dulled, another thought clawed its way to the forefront.

Revenge. It had driven her for so long, but now it felt hollow, incomplete. Maybe it wasn't vengeance she needed—maybe it was healing. The loss of her mother had left her broken in ways she was only beginning to understand. And Stephen… 

Stephen. The man who stood accused of destroying her family. But how could someone so cruel—so villainous—show her such kindness? His actions didn't match the darkness she had been told to expect. The confusion only deepened. 

"I'm so sick of this," she groaned to herself, her voice barely audible in the stillness. 

A low, familiar voice cut through her solitude. "Sick of me?" 

Aurora startled, sitting upright as Stephen strode into the room with the ease of someone who belonged there. 

His dark eyes sparkled with mischief, and his confident gait spoke of power that didn't need to shout to be heard. The sunlight streaming through the window caught the sharp angles of his face, casting him in a golden glow.

He looked like a painting brought to life, his small, knowing smile adding to the effect.

"Do you always make a habit of sneaking up on people?" she asked, folding her arms, though her heart betrayed her with its quickened pace. 

"I didn't sneak," he replied smoothly. "This is my room, after all." 

Aurora stood up from the bed with a deliberate grace.

"Well, if that's the case, Your Majesty, then I suppose it's only right that I leave." She moved toward the door, her tone light but her words pointed. 

Stephen's smile faltered, his expression briefly unreadable.

"If that's what you wish…" 

Aurora stopped, arching a brow as she glanced back at him. "You're quite endearing when you're not entirely pleased." 

"Is that so?" 

"Oh, it is," she teased, her lips curving into a smirk. "But I'm afraid I've nowhere else to go. So, if it pleases Your Majesty, I'll stay here. A palace life of leisure sounds far more appealing than the alternative." She gave a small, mocking bow, her smile widening. 

Stephen shook his head, though amusement flickered in his gaze. "On a second thought, I've changed my mind. You won't be staying here after all." 

Aurora feigned a gasp, clutching her chest dramatically. "Ah, so the great King is not a man of his word? What a scandal! No matter, I'll leave with all the grace and dignity befitting your esteemed court." 

She pretended to turn to go, but before she could take another step, his hand closed around her wrist. In one swift motion, he pulled her toward him, the suddenness of it stealing her breath. 

She found herself mere inches from him, her reflection caught in the depth of his eyes. His spare hand on her waist, the other holding her wrist.

"I'd love for you to stay, Aurora," he murmured, his voice low, meant only for her ears. Her pulse raced, but she refused to let him see it.

"Of course you would," she replied, her voice steady, though her heart betrayed her with its thunderous beat. Stephen's lips curled into a wicked smile, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

"It must be thrilling," he said softly, his tone laced with mischief, "to have a king treat you like no other." Aurora tilted her head, refusing to look away.

"Thrilling? Perhaps. But don't flatter yourself too much, Your Majesty. I'm not so easily swayed." A laugh slipped past her lips, light and genuine, and to her surprise, Stephen chuckled too—a sound rich and unguarded.

For a moment, all her thoughts, her fears, and her doubts melted away.The tension between them gave way to something gentler, and Aurora found herself distracted by how disarmingly beautiful his laugh was.

Realizing how close they had drawn, they both stepped back quickly, each letting go as though burned by their proximity. Stephen cleared his throat, his expression softening.

"I'll send for the maids to prepare a new room for you, because we do not know what the next rumor will be, if you continue to sleep here." 

Aurora's brow furrowed. "What about your mother? She's made it quite clear she isn't particularly fond of me." 

"She will come around," he assured her with a confidence that seemed unshakable. A flicker of memory surfaced—a half-formed image that brought with it the all-too-familiar pounding in her head.

She winced, closing her eyes against the pain. "Are you alright?" Stephen's voice softened, his concern evident. 

"Yes," she replied quickly, forcing a smile. "I'm fine." 

He studied her for a moment, his brows knitting together as though debating whether to press further. Finally, he nodded.

"Very well. The maids will help you settle into your new room. Take your time." 

Aurora nodded, watching as he left the room. For all his confidence and charm, there was something in his eyes—something that hinted at more than just concern. But for now, she was too weary to decipher it. 

--- 

Princess Sapphire wandered the palace halls aimlessly, her hands clasped behind her back, her mind clouded with boredom. The last time she had sought company, it had ended in disaster, so she had resolved to stay out of trouble—for now. 

As she rounded a corner, her eyes caught sight of her cousin, Charlotte and Marianna walking together. Her first instinct was to retreat, but it was too late. Marianna had already seen her. 

"Princess Sapphire," She said with a polite bow. 

"Cousin," Charlotte said, her tone flat, as it always was. Sapphire bristled. 

"Good evening, Lady…?" Sapphire faltered, her expression turning sheepish as she realized she didn't remember the woman's name. 

"Marianna," the woman supplied with a polite smile. 

"Ah, of course. Lady Marianna," Sapphire repeated with a stiff nod, her tone lacking sincerity. 

Marianna's smile didn't falter.

"Would you care to join us for a walk, Your Highness?" Sapphire's gaze shifted to Charlotte, whose face remained cold and unreadable.

A flood of old memories surged within Sapphire, memories of misplaced trust and betrayal.She remembered the days when she had thought they might find kinship in their shared loneliness, only to discover Charlotte's obsession with her own vanity and constant comparisons. 

Sapphire's jaw tightened. "I'm sorry, but I must retire for the evening," she said curtly, her voice strained with the effort of restraint. 

Charlotte nods indifferently. "Let's go, Mary. She's clearly busy with… whatever it is she does." 

Sapphire blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. Forgiveness? Why should she offer it when Charlotte had never even apologized for what she did? Her heart ached with the weight of unspoken hurt, and she clenched her fists, vowing never to let it show. 

"Good day, Your Highness," Marianna replied softly, casting a worried glance at Sapphire before following Charlotte. As Sapphire turned on her heel, two figures appeared at the far end of the corridor. One was unmistakably Zayd, his stride confident and deliberate.

Beside him was a woman Sapphire didn't recognize. Her sour mood darkened further. 

"Your Highness—" Zayd began, bowing slightly as they approached, but Sapphire didn't let him finish. She brushed past him without so much as a glance. 

Zayd arched a brow, puzzled by her abruptness, but said nothing. Instead, he turned his attention to Charlotte and Marianna who had stopped at his presence, offering them a polite bow. 

Charlotte's lips curved into a sly smile. "Getting married, Lord Zayd?" she asked playfully, her eyes drifting toward the woman beside him. Marianna glanced curiously at the woman beside him but said nothing.

"No," Zayd replied, "this is Lady Esmerelda, a dear friend of Lady Aurora." His tone was even, though his eyes flicked briefly to Charlotte.

"Lady Aurora?" Charlotte repeated, arching an elegant brow. "A guest of the king, perhaps, though one might hardly call her a friend."

Her smile sharpened. "Oh, the famed courtesan, is it?"

Zayd gritted his teeth but maintained his composure. "Yes. Now, if you will excuse us—"

"Of course," Charlotte said lightly, her amusement evident.

Charlotte's gaze lingered on them, a flicker of curiosity lighting her face as they disappeared around the corner.

"What is so amusing?" Marianna whispered, her tone tinged with intrigue. Charlotte shrugged, a sly smile spreading across her lips.

Her eyes, however, followed Zayd with a glint of something unspoken. 

"Don't you think he is a charming man?"