CHAPTER 37: THE ROYAL LORENDIA SIBLINGS [2]

"There you are."

The voice cut through my contemplation. The door swung open to reveal Hannah, and despite the smile on her lips, there was something distinctly dangerous in her grey eyes.

Crap.

"I had the most interesting conversation with a young man in the corridor," she continued, her tone conversational but weighted with meaning. "He was so helpful in directing me to the gardens, where I spent quite some time searching for two particular royal children who were, apparently, nowhere to be found."

William and Eleanora exchanged guilty glances, but neither seemed surprised by their discovery.

"Hannah," Eleanora began, her voice taking on a wheedling tone, "we can explain..."

"I’m sure you can, Princess," Hannah replied smoothly, though her attention had shifted to me. "But first, perhaps our new friend could introduce himself properly? I don’t believe we’ve been formally acquainted."

"I am Harold, just a mere commoner who had the honor of helping Queen Emma’s group find their way to the capital," I replied.

Hannah’s perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched upward, and I could practically see the gears turning in her mind. "You came with the Queen?" The question was posed casually, but her tone carried the weight of an interrogation. Her gray eyes, which I now noticed were remarkably sharp and intelligent, seemed to pierce right through any pretense I might be maintaining.

"Yes, I apologize if I had been... less than completely forthcoming earlier," I said, allowing a sheepish smile to cross my features. "The truth is, I simply wanted to help the Prince and Princess. When I saw them in distress, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing."

"You certainly know how to use your tongue well," Hannah said.

Before I could respond, Eleanora stepped forward, her cheeks flushed with what looked like embarrassment. "It’s our fault, Hannah," she said apologetically, wringing her hands in a gesture that spoke of genuine distress. "We were so focused on finding the Princess of Briaran that we didn’t think about proper protocol. Harold was just trying to help us."

Hannah’s gaze softened as she looked at the young princess, and I caught a glimpse of genuine affection beneath her professional demeanor. Then her eyes moved to William, and I saw something else entirely—a knowing look that suggested she was all too aware of the young prince’s inner turmoil.

"Your Highness," Hannah said, turning to address William gently, "you cannot simply barge into discussions between a King and Queen. The matters they discuss often involve delicate political negotiations that require... discretion. Please, only enter when His Majesty explicitly calls for you."

William’s shoulders sagged slightly. "Understood..."

"Brother, wait," Eleanora called out as William turned to leave and hurried after him.

I moved to follow them, drawn by a calculated interest in building relationships with the royal siblings. However, my progress was abruptly halted when I felt a firm grip on the scruff of my neck—Hannah’s hand, surprisingly strong for someone of her elegant appearance.

"And where exactly do you think you’re going?" She asked.

"Following the Prince and Princess," I replied, trying to turn my head to meet her gaze despite her grip on my collar.

Hannah looked at me with an expression that seemed to question my sanity. "I think you have a very decent awareness of the difference between your status and theirs," she said slowly, as if speaking to a particularly dim child.

I felt a flash of irritation at the condescension, James Trevills’s ego hitting strongly, but I quickly suppressed it. Instead, I raised an eyebrow and met her gaze steadily. "I do understand the difference," I said carefully, "but I don’t know anyone else of my age around here. Is it so wrong to wish to get along with the Prince and Princess of my own kingdom? Surely friendship can transcend social boundaries, at least to some degree?"

The question seemed to catch Hannah off guard. Her grip on my collar loosened slightly, and I could see her processing my words with the same analytical intensity she had shown earlier. For a moment, she seemed genuinely speechless, as if she hadn’t expected such a reasoned response from a mere commoner.

Finally, she released me entirely, stepping back with what might have been the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

I smoothed down my collar and turned to face her fully, knowing that I had one chance to make a lasting impression. "You know," I said, allowing my voice to drop to a more intimate tone while maintaining respectful distance, "you are far too beautiful and intelligent to be just a maid, Miss Hannah."

Hannah’s reaction was immediate and telling; surprise flickered across her features before being quickly masked behind professional composure.

I had my suspicions about Hannah’s true role in the palace. No mere maid would have the authority to speak so directly to royalty, nor would they possess the political acumen she had just displayed. But whatever her true position, questioning it directly would be unwise.

With a slight smile I turned away to seek out William and Eleanora, leaving Hannah to process our exchange.

The palace gardens were a masterpiece of landscaping, with carefully manicured hedges creating intimate spaces between bursts of colorful flowers.

I found William seated on an ornate marble bench, his posture slumped forward with his elbows resting on his knees. Even from a distance, I could see him still troubled. Nearby, Eleanora was examining a particularly vibrant cluster of purple lupins, but she wasn’t alone.

A younger girl accompanied her—definitely another royal family member based on her bearing and the quality of her clothing. She had the same gold blond hair as her siblings, but what truly set her apart were her eyes: one a warm amber-orange that caught the sunlight like a jewel, the other a deep forest green. The mismatched eyes created a striking and beautiful effect, giving her an almost otherworldly appearance.

"Careful, Arabella," Eleanora said gently as the younger girl reached toward a rose bush, "you might get cut by the thorns."

Arabella. The Second Princess, just as I had suspected. She looked to be perhaps seven or eight, with the natural grace that seemed to run in the royal bloodline.

I approached William’s bench with measured steps, making enough noise to announce my presence without seeming intrusive. The prince looked up as I drew near.

"May I?" I asked, gesturing to the empty space beside him on the bench.

William nodded, shifting slightly to make room. I settled beside him, taking a moment to appreciate the peaceful garden setting before deciding to address what was clearly weighing heavily on his mind.

"I had a crush a few years ago, Your Highness," I began, my voice conversational but tinged with genuine emotion. I was drawing from the not so painful memories of my past life as James Trevills, when I had been young and foolish enough to believe that raw ambition was enough to win someone’s heart.

William’s head turned toward me, his expression showing the first real interest I had seen from him since our conversation with Hannah.

"Unfortunately, she didn’t like me back. In fact, she made it quite clear that she didn’t like me by insulting me."

"That’s..." William started, then seemed to struggle for appropriate words.

I laughed little just by remembering how foolish I had been.

"Since then," I continued, my voice growing more thoughtful, "I’ve had a hard time loving someone completely without having... strange thoughts creeping in."

"Strange thoughts?" William asked, leaning forward slightly.

I chose my words carefully, not wanting to reveal too much of my past life’s cynical approach to relationships. "I suppose I mean that I started analyzing relationships like business transactions. Instead of simply enjoying someone’s company, I would find myself wondering what advantages they might bring, how they might be useful to my future plans. It was a terrible way to think about love, and it made genuine connection nearly impossible."

William nodded slowly, and I could see recognition in his eyes—perhaps he had experienced similar thoughts about his potential marriage to Princess Judith.

Well that was how royals were thinking after all.

"But recently," I said, my voice taking on a warmer tone as I thought of Isabella, Rosaluna, and Lisa, "I think I’ve begun to understand what real love might actually feel like. It’s not about advantage or political gain. It’s about finding someone who makes you want to be better than you are, someone whose happiness becomes as important as your own."

I turned to face William more directly, meeting his gaze steadily. "So I think if you truly care for someone, and there’s a chance they might care for you in return, you shouldn’t give up without a fight. Sometimes the most worthwhile things in life require us to take risks."

William’s face had grown slightly flushed during my speech, and I could see him struggling with his emotions. "But... but my father wants me to marry Princess Judith," he said. "And Harriet’s father... the Count made it clear that he doesn’t want his daughter involved with me unless it is as a Queen. He thinks it would only bring her pain otherwise."

I leaned back against the bench. "Tell me something, Your Highness—when is this marriage to Princess Judith supposed to take place?"

William looked confused by the question. "Well, not for several years. Father mentioned a possible engagement when I come of age, but the actual wedding wouldn’t be until I’m at least twenty."

"So you have time," I said simply. "Years, in fact, to either change your father’s mind about the political necessity of this match, or to help the Count see that true love might be worth whatever grudge he might have."

I watched as William’s expression began to shift, hope flickering in his eyes like the first light of dawn.

"Think about it this way," I continued, warming to my theme. "Right now, you’re assuming that failure is inevitable. But what if it’s not? What if there are solutions you haven’t considered yet? Political situations change. People’s minds can be swayed by compelling arguments or changing circumstances. The Count might come to see that having his daughter marry the future king would bring much more things than he had initially thought."

William straightened on the bench, his posture becoming more animated. "I... I hadn’t thought about it that way."

"It’s only impossible if you give up before you start," I said, drawing on the philosophy that had driven me to success in my previous life. "If you truly want something—and I mean truly want it, not just fancy it—then you owe it to yourself to explore every possible avenue. Do everything within your power to achieve it, so that regardless of the outcome, you’ll never have to live with the regret of wondering ’what if.’"

The words had the weight of my hard-earned wisdom, lessons learned through both triumph and failure in a life that William couldn’t possibly imagine. But the principles were universal: ambition, persistence, and the willingness to take calculated risks in pursuit of what mattered most.

"That was my motto in..." I caught myself before revealing too much, "in my previous experiences. It’s served me well so far, and I believe it could serve you too."

"What motto?"

The voice came from directly in front of me, clear and curious. I looked up to find Princess Arabella standing there.

It was truly the first time in either of my lives that I had encountered someone with heterochromatic eyes. The effect was genuinely beautiful, creating an almost mystical quality to her gaze, but there was something about the way those different-colored eyes seemed to see right through me.

"Just a personal motto, Your Highness," I replied. "Nothing particularly profound, I’m afraid."

But Arabella wasn’t easily deterred. She tilted her head slightly. "Why do you have white and pink eyes?" She asked then.

"You’d have to ask my parents about that," I said with a chuckle. "Though I must say, I find your mismatched eyes truly beautiful. They’re quite extraordinary."

The compliment had an immediate effect. Arabella’s entire face lit up with genuine delight, a radiant smile spreading across her features that transformed her from merely pretty to absolutely luminous. "Really?" She asked.

"I mean every word," I nodded.

Arabella’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she ducked her head slightly in a gesture that was endearingly shy. "Thank you," she whispered, and I could hear the genuine pleasure in her voice.

But even as I watched her reaction, something nagged at the back of my mind. There was an quality about Princess Arabella that I couldn’t quite identify.

"You are far too at ease with us, Harold," Eleanora observed with a melodious giggle, having approached during our exchange. Her tone was amused rather than critical, as if she found my lack of excessive formality refreshing rather than offensive.

. "Shouldn’t I be at ease? I believe I’ve been appropriately polite in my interactions with all of you," I said.

"Oh, you have been," Eleanora assured me quickly, waving her hand as if to dismiss any suggestion of impropriety. "It’s not about proper etiquette or anything like that. It’s just that most people—even nobles of considerable standing—tend to maintain a certain... distance from us. They speak in carefully measured tones, never quite meet our eyes directly, always seem to be calculating their words three moves ahead." She looked toward her brother with a knowing expression. "Isn’t that right, brother?"

William nodded emphatically. "Exactly. It’s somewhat refreshing to have a conversation where we don’t feel like we’re performing in a play where everyone knows their lines except us. With you, it feels like we can actually just... talk."

"I’m genuinely glad if you feel that way," I said. "I also find both of you to be remarkably mature and far more likeable than most people my age that I’ve encountered. Certainly more so than the young men in my village."

As I spoke, I couldn’t help but think of Alric, the village chief’s son, with his swaggering arrogance and petty cruelties. The contrast between him and William was stark—one was a prince who seemed genuinely concerned about others’ feelings, while the other was the son of a baron who lost his territory.

"The people in your village must be quite different from those at court," Arabella observed with that same direct curiosity she had shown earlier.

"Very different indeed," I agreed with a slight sigh. "Village life tends to be... smaller in scope. People often measure themselves by relatively minor achievements, and sometimes that can bring out the worst in their character. Here, surrounded by genuine nobility, I find myself in the company of people who have been raised to consider the welfare of others—a refreshing change."

"There you are, my children."

The voice that interrupted our conversation. All four of us turned toward the entrance to the garden, where several figures had appeared.

The King Francis Lorendia was there along Queen Emma.

Crap.