IWAPUF 20

“You must at least make your debut into society, then.”
The Emperor’s eyes gleamed with sudden purpose, and I saw immediately what he was thinking.
In a mere heartbeat, he had pivoted—abandoning the idea of the coming-of-age ceremony as a
wedding, and instead targeting my social debut.
“I’m afraid hosting a party right away may prove difficult,” I said carefully.
“Nonsense!” he declared, leaning forward with enthusiasm. “If you’ll give your consent, I’
ll arrange the entire affair myself.”
“I’m deeply honored, Your Majesty. However, I still… cannot.”
“Why not?”
The Emperor’s patience, already thin, snapped. His voice rang out, harsh and sudden. Perhaps
realizing he had raised it, he cleared his throat and composed himself again, though his tone
softened no less in urgency.
“Even so… your debut must be held.”
His voice took on the coaxing tone of a parent trying to convince a sulking child. I lifted my
handkerchief and dabbed lightly at the corner of my eyes, a familiar performance by now.
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, my heart remains unsettled. I would like to consider my
debut only after I’ve had time to recover.”
And just like that, we were back at the beginning—looping through the same conversation like a
well-rehearsed waltz. The Emperor pressed his fingers to his temples, massaging them as though
my words physically pained him.
“So when will that be, then?”
His voice was weary now, the force gone from it.
“Sometime next year, perhaps… in the spring…”
“Next year? Absolutely not!”
He rose from his chair so suddenly that the teacups rattled. “Next year?” he echoed, practically
sputtering.
Given that it was still early spring—the year barely begun—his reaction wasn’t entirely
unreasonable. He had likely been envisioning my debut in just a few months, on my birthday. But
“next year” meant nearly a full twelve months of delay.
I looked up at him with the most innocent expression I could manage.
“A social debut must simply be held within two years of one’s coming-of-age ceremony. Next
year is well within the acceptable timeframe.”
It was true. Ideally, one made their debut alongside their coming-of-age, but it wasn’t required. In
less fortunate circumstances, young nobles held their debut events months—or even years—later.
So long as the debut occurred by the age of eighteen, no one could truly object.
“Nggh.”
The Emperor groaned, flustered and clearly at a loss. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. He
looked like a man trapped between irritation and resignation, unable to vent either.
“Pfft.”
The laugh came from the Crown Prince, of course.
“And just what do you find so amusing?” the Emperor snapped, seizing the opportunity to
redirect his frustration.
But the Crown Prince’s smile only deepened. Rising slowly from his seat, he bowed to his father
with impeccable grace.
“My apologies, Father. But Bee’s words aren’t wrong, are they?”
“And whose side are you on now?”
“My fiancée’s, of course,” the Crown Prince said, stepping behind me and resting both hands
gently on my shoulders.
I resisted the instinct to shake them off. Not here. Not in front of the Emperor.
“Isn’t her devotion to her grandfather admirable? I ask that you consider Bee’s heart in this
matter.”
The Emperor let out a long, defeated sigh and collapsed back into his chair. “You… you’re
impossible.”
Even now, the Crown Prince’s hands remained on my shoulders, his presence steady at my back. I
couldn’t see his face, but I could feel the tension in the room as the Emperor glared at him in clear
disapproval.
“Your Majesty,” the steward murmured, stepping forward. “It is nearly time for your audience
with the ministers.”
The Emperor gave a rueful chuckle, shaking his head.
“Very well. You’ve won—for now. If this is your wish, then I’ll let it go. But there’s still time.
Do think on it some more.”
I stood and bowed respectfully. Even as I lowered myself into the formal gesture, I subtly shifted
to dislodge the Crown Prince’s hands from my shoulders.
“You may go for today,” the Emperor said, waving his hand in dismissal. “I’ll rest here a while
longer.”
This man—this ruler of an empire—held the reins of state like a puppeteer with silk strings,
manipulating nobles and ministers alike with ease. It was impossible he hadn’t seen through my
performance. And yet… in the end, he had chosen to respect my will.
I bowed once more, silently, and began to withdraw.
“Just how far do you intend to follow me?”
I had already passed through the garden and exited Baharot Palace, but the Crown Prince still
trailed behind me. I turned and fixed him with a sharp glare.
“Isn’t it only proper for a fiancé to escort his betrothed?” he replied, all innocent charm.
“A courtesy you’ve never shown before.”
He smiled again—genuinely amused. I scowled. He stepped toward me. I stepped back.
“I didn’t expect you to use the dead as a shield, Bee.”
His lips curled—not into a smirk, not quite—but into a smile edged with something else.
Something dangerous. His golden eyes locked onto mine.
I didn’t flinch. I met his gaze, calm and unyielding.
“And I never thought you would use the Emperor as your weapon, Your Highness.”
The Crown Prince had summoned me to the inner court of Baharot Palace for one reason, and one
reason only.
To corner me.
To use the Emperor as a shield, a lever, a threat. In the past, perhaps I would’ve folded—eager to
avoid conflict, to appease. But that time had passed. The moment the fire had caught, it was no
longer something that could be put out. Not until it had burned itself to ash.
His eyes widened, lips parted for a beat—and then he burst into laughter.
It was a full, unguarded sound, bright and ringing, the kind of laugh I’d never once seen from him
before. His golden eyes curved into crescents as he laughed, genuinely amused.
“Ha! Well played. You’ve got me good, haven’t you?”
He looked as though he’d been thoroughly entertained—utterly delighted, even. And strangely…
despite having turned the tables on him, I found myself feeling oddly defeated.
There’s something off about him. Cursed, maybe, I thought bitterly.
I turned away without another word. Best not to associate with creatures like that.
But before I could take more than a step, he seized my wrist.
I tried to jerk away out of instinct, but his grip was firm—unyielding. I had no choice but to face
him again.
“I warned you not to provoke me,” he said, voice low and glinting with sharp intent.
His eyes—those deep, golden eyes—flared with intensity, like twin gems burnished in firelight.
Crafted, almost. Too precise, too brilliant. In their depths, I saw the clear reflection of myself.
I narrowed my gaze, refusing to look away.
“I never gave you permission to use my nickname,” I said.
“I never imagined I’d be refused by my own fiancée,” he replied smoothly, stepping closer.
His face hovered a breath away from mine. His nose almost touched mine, close enough for me to
feel the warmth of him.
I itched to shove him back. Hard. But we weren’t alone. Court ladies, stationed throughout the
palace, pretended to look away, though their eyes were locked on us with barely contained
fascination.
I’d love nothing more than to throw him to the ground right now…
They couldn’t hear our words, but they would certainly see my hands if I decided to slap the
Crown Prince across the face.
“Precisely because you’re my fiancé, you should mind your manners,” I said sweetly.
His brow twitched.
I smiled at him—bright, charming, dangerous. Then leaned in, whispering close to his ear.
“Sometimes, Your Highness… the prey bites back.”
And I shifted my weight deliberately. My heel came down hard on the top of his foot, hidden
beneath the hem of my gown.
Damn. If only I’d worn stilettos today…
It was my one regret—that today, of all days, I had chosen low heels.
“Ow—!”
I left him standing there and swept toward the waiting carriage.
As I climbed in, Marie shot upright in surprise, bumping her head on the roof in the process.
“Ow!”
She clutched her head and sank back onto the bench with a groan.
“Still as clumsy as ever, even after all these years,” I said with a sigh.
“Sorry, my lady,” she mumbled, chastened.
She scrambled out of the carriage and held the door open for me, her movements flustered. I
brushed past her and took my seat.
“Shall we head straight home today?” she asked, preparing to close the door.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Vivaldi Street.”
“Vivaldi Street?” she echoed, puzzled.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have the energy to explain. I was too tired—bone-deep, soul-deep tired.
When I remained silent, Marie gave a small nod and turned to inform the driver through the front
window.
I slumped back into the seat.
Meeting with the Crown Prince was always exhausting. But today had taken twice the toll.
The unexpected audience with the Emperor had only made it worse. And the final moments…
“Haa…”
“My lady?”
Startled by my sigh, Marie leaned toward me. I waved a hand vaguely to reassure her.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“You don’t look it. You’re pale. Should I tell the driver to turn back?”
“No. It’s fine.”
I leaned my head against the carriage wall and closed my eyes. Marie hesitated for a moment but
didn’t press further.
When I had stomped on the Crown Prince’s foot, I had felt such satisfaction. Righteous, electric
satisfaction. His brow had twitched in pain, and it had thrilled me to my fingertips.
But that high didn’t last.
You really are a dangerous man, I thought.
Even with all my weight behind that step, even knowing it had to hurt, he hadn’t shown a flicker
of pain. Instead, he’d looked at me with that infuriatingly radiant smile—so warm, so dazzling, it
almost made me think I imagined the whole thing.
There had even been a strange moment where I thought petals might begin swirling around his
head.
That smile… had disarmed me more than any threat.
I’d tried then, belatedly, to pull away. But he was faster.
With the hand that hadn’t been gripping my wrist, he reached behind and cupped the back of my
head.
It happened so quickly I barely had time to react. His face drew close—too close—and then…
Soft warmth met my forehead.
A kiss. Brief. Chaste. But unmistakably his.
You’re truly impossible, Bee, he whispered, voice low and syrup-sweet, full of quiet laughter.