CHAPTER 79: ROYAL MATCHMAKING?

Seraphina did not waste time.

She took Caelith’s arm and gently nudged him toward Evelisse.

"Evelisse, dear. Fix his collar, would you? And Caelith, you’ve got a smudge right—here." She brushed at his shoulder with all the glee of a matchmaking general.

Then she clasped her hands together. "My stars, you two are just precious together. Look at them—don’t they match like a dream?"

"Mother," Evelisse whispered, red in the face.

Seraphina turned to her sons. "Should we start planning a royal wedding or at least a seasonal ball? Jared, fetch the flower budget."

"He’s ten," Jared said.

"She’s seven," Lucien added.

"That’s practically ancient in magical prophecy years," Leo and Lance chorused.

Seraphina nodded solemnly. "They’re friends. Let them be adorable. I’m living for it."

"As long as there’s cake," said Fluffy, bobbing near a vase.

Evelisse had to control every muscle in her face to stop a roll of her eyes.

Lady Marwen muttered something about "romantic precursors" and wandered toward a bush.

Caelith glanced sideways at Evelisse. "Does this happen often?"

"Almost daily. Sometimes she even sketches gown designs in her sleep."

"...I think I’m scared."

"You should be."

They shared a look. Not quite a smile.

Not yet.

Evelisse tried to keep her spine straight, her face composed—Princesslike. She had practiced this kind of calm before: with tutors, in front of noble guests, during royal dinners where she was too small to sit comfortably without cushions under her.

But this was different.

Because the boy across from her wasn’t a tutor, or a guest, or someone expected.

He was Caelith.

And Caelith was looking at her.

Right at her.

His smile wasn’t smug anymore. It was quiet, softer. Like he had taken off the invisible armor everyone else seemed to wear in court. She had seen plenty of smiles. But never one like this.

She dipped her head just a little. "It is an honor to meet you once again, Crown Prince Caelith of Elaris."

The words were rehearsed. Practiced. Polished with the kind of formal grace her governess would applaud. But her voice gave her away—it was careful. Just shy of trembling.

Caelith blinked, then returned her bow with a surprisingly deep one of his own.

"And you, Princess Evelisse of Florabelle." His voice matched the softness of his smile. "You speak very beautifully."

Evelisse’s ears turned red. She nearly missed it when Jared swooped forward, arms spread wide, voice booming with theatrical flair.

"Right! I suppose I’ll show you around the estate, your highness," Jared said, giving an overly exaggerated bow. "As the most charming and experienced sibling, I—"

"I appreciate the offer," Caelith interrupted gently, turning to face him with a polite bow. "But I’d prefer someone... closer to my age."

Silence.

Utter silence.

Then—

"OOOOH!!"

The twins, Lance and Leo, didn’t even try to hold back. They doubled over, clinging to each other like they’d just witnessed a royal duel and their side had won.

"’Closer to my age!’" Lance choked between cackles. "Did you hear that?!"

"Old man Jared!" Leo howled, poking Jared in the ribs.

"I’m nineteen!" Jared snapped, swatting their hands away. "You little trolls!"

"Oldest after Brother Lucien, but still rejected by the kid," Leo teased.

"I’m going to burn your favorite tunics."

"I’ll just wear yours! They’re looser in the shoulders anyway!"

Seraphina, now sitting regally on a floral ornate chair, behind her teacup, didn’t even blink.

She took a delicate sip. "My favorite moment of the day," she murmured.

Jared pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, dramatically slumping against a column. "I’m being bullied. Again. In my own home."

"You’re not the only one who lives here," Evelisse muttered without thinking.

Caelith tilted his head at her, amused.

Her heart jumped.

Oh no. Did she speak too casually?

But instead of correcting her, Caelith just offered a small nod, like they shared a secret.

"I believe," Seraphina said, rising gracefully to her feet, "our young prince would like to see the gardens. Evelisse, would you show him?"

Evelisse opened her mouth, then shut it.

Then opened it again. "Y–Yes, mother."

Caelith turned to his royal tutor and the accompanying knight, both of whom gave a subtle nod of approval before stepping back.

With everyone watching, Evelisse smoothed the front of her dress, lifted her chin as she’d been taught, and gestured toward the archway.

"This way, please, Prince Caelith."

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

They walked slowly through the glass garden corridor, the sun painting shifting colors on the floor beneath their feet.

Evelisse could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

She peeked at him.

He wasn’t looking at the plants.

He was looking at her.

So, she said the first thing that came to mind. "Those aren’t tulips. They’re called Moondew Blossoms. They only bloom when someone sings to them."

He blinked. "That’s... not real."

"It is," she said. "Our older brother Felix tested it once. He sang off-key and they refused to open."

Caelith snorted. A real, surprised laugh.

Evelisse bit her lip.

"You’re... different than I expected," he said quietly.

"Oh." She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

"I thought you’d be—well. They said you were the youngest. And... sheltered."

"I am sheltered," she said honestly. "And seven."

His lips twitched. "Right. Seven."

They paused at a small stone bench. Birds chirped from somewhere above, and the nearby pond sparkled like someone had dropped glitter across it.

"I don’t usually like visiting new places," Caelith admitted after a while.

"Why not?"

"They all feel the same. Everyone is tense. Bowing. Trying to guess what I want to hear."

"That sounds exhausting."

He nodded.

"Do you... like Florabelle?" she asked.

Caelith looked around. His gaze lingered on the lanterns strung between trees, the dancing petals, the tiny stone statues hidden in the flowerbeds.

"I think... yes," he said. Then he looked at her again. "It doesn’t feel fake."

She wasn’t sure what to say to that.

But somehow, she felt proud.

Even though she hadn’t built the garden, or strung the lights, or trimmed the hedges—she felt proud that this was her family’s home.

And maybe a little nervous that she wanted him to like it.