233: Fake Royals

Fake Royals

One the way, the Grivenian troop stopped at the guest mansion of Megaris to fetch the aide of the prince. 2

Oriana sat inside Arlan's carriage. She greeted him with a bow and he accepted it with a nod. Their gazes met but Oriana immediately lowered her gaze, preferring to not look at him. She had an excuse. Being a servant she was not allowed to look at her master, and only now did she feel like she loved this rule. 

On the other hand, Arlan couldn't help but stare at her. Although he arranged to keep the windows open, within that small enclosed space, with him seemingly starved of her presence, her scent smelled sweeter, lovelier, like the most exquisite wine to his nose. 

He could somehow manage to bear it and he knew it was because of what Yorian had given to him. He could not thank that ancient elf more. 

With his gaze on her, he opened his mouth, but no words escaped him. He wanted to talk to her, but where should he begin? Should he bring up that horrible night by the lake and apologize for it? Would she believe if he claims his action back then was not intentional? He didn't plan to hurt her, but he had no other choice. But all these questions could only remain in his thoughts. 

As a result, there was no conversation between them. 

Arlan noticed soon they would be arriving at the guest mansion of Thevailes, and for some odd reason, unintended words slipped out of his mouth,

"Have you been eating well?"

It shocked Oriana so much, her mouth fell slightly open in disbelief. The world seemed to fade away as she struggled to find her voice. 

Under her shocked gaze, he continued to ask, "Are you feeling better?"

"I-I am, Your Highness…" 

She lowered her head, because for some unknown reasons, heat was spreading over her chest. 

'Have you been eating well?' he said. Did the prince famous for his glib tongue really ask her such a silly-sounding question? 

There was a short awkward pause before he spoke again, "That night, it was wrong…"

"I was wrong," Oriana interrupted him. "I apologize. This servant was insolent to grab you, a prince, so it was my fault I fell into the lake."

She didn't look at him, but she could feel the intensity of his stare on her head.

Seconds later, his soft words caused her heart to shake.

"But I should not have walked away."

A sour feeling rose within her, but she swallowed it back and spoke, "Your Highness cannot be blamed. You are my master, and I, your servant. My role is to help you, not the other way around."

Was she drawing a clear line between their status? Arlan could not help but feel bitter. Since she had made her point, it would be useless to convince her otherwise. He had nothing more to say about this matter. Moreover, he could not tell her the real reason of walking away instead of helping her.

"When we reach their mansion, try not to leave my side for long. The Thevailese are not simple people."

"I will."

"That lady called Rosetta, I need to see her. If she is not part of the group who will welcome us or a direct servant of the King of Thevailes, create an opportunity for me to meet her."

"I will see if I can do anything."

"If we can't, you don't have to take any risk. As long as we can leave from there without creating any mess."

"I understand, Your Highness."

Their carriage soon reached the gates of the guest mansion of Thevailes. 

When Arlan climbed out of his carriage, a nobleman in his late thirties came out to receive him. 

"This humble official offers his respects to the Crown Prince of Griven," the man welcomed him warmly, neither arrogant nor humble.

"Minister Greyland," Arlan greeted back, recognizing his identity. This man was none other than the Thevailese Minister of Foreign Affairs, a high-ranking noble who was one of the participants in the conference.

The minister appeared flattered. "His Majesty awaits you in the drawing room…"

Arlan exchanged small talk with him as he led their way inside. It did not take long for a handsome man in his mid-twenties to enter the drawing room. With short silvery blond hair and pale white skin, coupled with his pure white attire that was without a single blemish, one would think the man who entered was the son of Winter. 

Oriana immediately lowered her head. It was the first time she was meeting the King of Thevailes, the third king she had seen so far. 

Just like the King of Megaris, this king was young as well, probably older by a year or two. He looked to be around the same age as Arlan and Drayce. The air around him had a sense of indolence and lethargy, giving Oriana the impression that this man was the type who loved to laze in bed in the morning.

The Crown Prince of Griven and the King of Thevailes briefly exchanged greetings.

As the host, Samer offered a light smile as he sat in his chair. "Please have a seat, Prince Arlan."

Arlan did so as he too offered him a formal smile. "Thank you for accepting my request for this meeting, King Samer."

"I never knew the Crown Prince of Griven holds my kingdom in such high esteem," Samer said, referring to the contents of the visitation notice. "How can I not grab this chance to make a new friend from afar?"

"I truly think highly of Thevailes," Arlan replied, "and it would be a privilege if I can pay a visit to your kingdom in the future."

Oriana, who was standing a few steps away from Arlan, felt disgusted by the exchange. She knew for a fact that Arlan disliked Thevailes and he hated this young king for some reason, yet from the surface, she could not tell whether his words were genuine or not. She swore, to her senses, King Samer sounded the same. Both were not being genuine with their words towards each other.

Fake!

'Royals, they sure are skilled at disguising their real thoughts and emotions.'

Oriana felt her disguise as a man was not even worth the praise compared to their perfected art. 

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