His questions were endless, his fantasies about his future spouse growing ever grander. The more Sys dwelt on her, the more it wore on Isnal, who stayed by his side.
“Keep it short today. Or wait until I’m done training.”
Sys rarely stopped once he started on this topic. Isnal hoped he’d wait until training was over.
Frustrated that his monumental news was brushed off, Sys shouted, “This is different!”
“Yes, yes,” Isnal replied absently, sheathing his sword, resigned that training was over.
“So, who is she?”
“What?”
“You said your Crown Princess was chosen.”
Sys’s scowl melted instantly at the mention of her. Though annoyed by Isnal’s indifference, he couldn’t contain his excitement.
“Bijonne Lossa Elient!”
“What?”
“The name of my future lady. Isn’t it beautiful?”
“El… Elient?”
Isnal’s face stiffened, but Sys, lost in joy, didn’t notice.
“She’s three years younger than me! She must be adorable, right?”
Sys, the Emperor’s youngest son, had never met anyone younger. His imagination soared, his face glowing with rapture. But Isnal couldn’t relax his expression.
The Chancellor’s legitimate daughter…
The Elient family was a perfect match to bolster Sys’s weak backing. But rumors about them troubled Isnal.
They say the Marchioness is mad. And that Lady Elient might not even be the Marquis’s true daughter.
He didn’t believe every rumor—gossip often masqueraded as truth in high society. But it wasn’t the rumors themselves that worried him.
What kind of character would a lady raised amid such rumors have?
Raised by Countess Lionel, who believed environment shaped a child, Isnal wasn’t thrilled about Lady Elient’s betrothal to Sys. Oblivious to his concerns, Sys muttered dreamily, “Is she pretty? She must be, right?”
“The Chancellor’s daughter, known for her beauty, must be lovely.”
“Chan… cellor?”
The radiance on Sys’s face clouded over in an instant.
“The Chancellor?”
“Since she’s Lady Elient, naturally…”
“No way! Why? How could my Bee be the daughter of that cold-blooded man?”
“You didn’t realize even after hearing her name?”
Has he turned into a fool?
Isnal swallowed the retort and offered Sys a glimmer of hope.
“Rumor has it she resembles the Marchioness more than the Chancellor.”
“Really?”
Sys, clutching his head in despair, snapped upright.
“That’s what I heard.”
Beads of sweat formed on Isnal’s forehead as Sys leaned closer, his intense gaze overwhelming.
“You’re sure?”
“P-probably…”
“Can you swear it?”
“…Yes.”
Cornered, Isnal gulped as Sys’s face—pretty enough to pass for a girl’s, with flawless skin and cherry-red lips—came unnervingly close. For a boy in the throes of puberty, it was enough to set Isnal’s heart racing.
“Hmph, doesn’t matter. Whoever she resembles, she’ll be lovely to me,” Sys said, grinning and pulling back, oblivious to Isnal’s turmoil.
“I can’t wait to meet her.”
Humming, Sys left the training yard as if his business there was done.
Why is he doing this to me?
Alone, Isnal screamed silently, unheard by anyone.
“This one?”
“How about this?”
“No, no, maybe that one…”
Sys bustled about before dawn, agonizing over his attire.
“Bring that one. No, the one behind it!”
“Enough already!”
Watching the maids scurry at Sys’s orders since early morning, Isnal finally snapped.
“No way. First impressions matter,” Sys replied, holding garments to his chest before discarding them, beckoning another maid.
She swiftly took the rejected clothes and retreated.
“How about this blue one?” a maid ventured cautiously, noting Sys’s frown.
“Will she like this color?”
“She’ll love it!”
Please, just pick something!
The maids, exhausted after hours of this, prayed in unison. Their wish seemed granted as Sys finally decided.
“It’s not perfect, but time’s running out.”
As Sys changed, Isnal and the maids sighed in relief.
“It’s fine, right? Nothing odd?”
“Absolutely not, Your Highness,” Isnal assured.
Even heading to the audience hall where the Emperor waited, Sys kept checking himself. Isnal shook his head at Sys’s persistent dissatisfaction.
How can he love someone he hasn’t even seen?
To Isnal, who’d never felt affection for a girl, it was incomprehensible.
“Bijonne Lossa Elient greets the empire’s little sun.”
Her golden-brown hair sparkled, her petite nose and full lips—perfect for a single bite—paired with cat-like, upturned eyes. She was far more radiant than Sys had imagined.
“Prince, come here,” the Emperor called.
Snapped from his daze, Sys approached.
“What a fine pair!” the Emperor boomed, laughing heartily. “Don’t you agree, Chancellor?”
Sys stole a glance at Bijonne as he stood beside her. Her rigid posture and unreadable expression mirrored the Chancellor’s.
Does she not like me?
Unlike other ladies who warmed to him instantly, Bijonne’s gaze was as indifferent as if he were an object. Her glassy eyes stirred an unfamiliar frustration in Sys.
“The Reisha flowers are in full bloom in Bisard Palace’s garden,” the chamberlain suggested. “Why not show Lady Elient the gardens?”
“A splendid idea. Better to wait for the Chancellor and go together than wander alone,” the Emperor agreed.
Sys steadied his trembling heart and extended his hand. Her small, pale hand rested in his, cool to the touch. He gripped it gently, as if to warm it.
The Bisard Palace gardens were indeed brimming with Reisha flowers, their sweet scent filling the air.
A breeze sent white petals dancing like snowflakes—a breathtaking sight. Sys, walking silently, suddenly turned to Bijonne. Her green eyes, usually aloof, widened in surprise.
She’s adorable.
Her haughty, cat-like face was beautiful, but her startled, wide-eyed expression was irresistibly cute. A petal landed softly on her cheek. Sys’s hand moved impulsively.
So soft.
Her cheek felt softer than the petal.
Bijonne.
He carefully brushed the petal away.
My Bee.
He whispered the title he couldn’t yet use.
My Bee.
A warm tingle spread through his heart.
