For a painter, 'The Golden Hall' in the south port city is not any different from the imperial palace itself. But not for an unchaperoned noble lady. Especially one with a devastatingly handsome silver-haired man.
"You are indeed out of your mind," Rivienne was at a loss for the words. "Will no one look for me back in the palace? And how dare you ask me to go buy-"
"Who's asking?" Ezra interjected her. "If you are that worried, why did you follow me?"
"I did not follow Your Highness, I thought you were going to hand me a painting," Rivienne argued. In her mind, she asked the same question several times.
"And that is what I am doing, painter," Ezra said. While Rivienne was glaring at him, the servant came and stood there like a statue. Rivienne glanced up at him, wondering what he wanted.
"What is it?" She yelled at him.
