Ophelia of House Moonwell looked up, meeting the gaze of Prince Landris of the royal line of Wyndham.
--and she fiercely resisted the desire to throw her sword away and run into his embrace.
Her people were hurt. Some of them were dead.
The person responsible for arranging their affairs... was her.
She didn't want to deal with that on her own...
It was hard work. It was painful.
It was... just too much.
Ophelia didn't want those responsibilities. She wanted to shut herself in her room and cry.
She wanted... to be told what to do, like when she was still young, innocent, and stupid... She wanted to go back to those times, spoiled by her parents... doted on by her lover...
She didn't want to be the Arcanite Princess anymore...
"I go by Tarquin, now," Her husband shrugged. "And we were never exactly married, were we?"
"Wh... what?" Ophelia's jaw dropped.
