Genevieve's fake tears dried instantly, her eyes flashing with annoyance. She quickly recovered, her expression morphing into one of indignation.
"How could you make such a joke, viktor?" She asked, her expression ashen.
Viktor's brow arched, his voice low and calm. "It wasn't a joke, lady Genevieve. You should really step back from the grave."
Malcolm who stood at the side, pursed his lips to prevent a smile from breaking out. "We need to lay down the coffin now." He said, keeping a stoic expression.
Genevieve stepped back from the grave, feeling a wave of embarrassment as she returned to her position. The coffin was carefully laid down and the slaves covered the ground.
The priest muttered another word of prayer, and the burial came to an end. The sun had almost gone down by the time the burial was over.
Viktor guided the Queen mother back to the carriage, as everyone began to disperse. The ride back to the grand castle was smooth and quiet. Everyone seemed to be in their own world of introspection.
The sun went down fully, leaving the castle illuminated by the moonlight and the side torches. Charlotte sat on a bench in the garden, her gaze fixated on the book in her hands. She had earlier taken it from the royal library, after searching for quite a while.
The cool breeze of the night gently tousled her hair, leaving some of the strands to fall across her face. As she put the strands back in place, she was distracted by the sound of approaching footsteps.
She raised her eyes, her eyes widening on seeing Markus approach her. She stood up, offering a bow while her hands clutched the book she was reading.
"Do sit, Lady Charlotte," he said, gesturing toward the bench. "I was returning to the castle when I spotted someone enjoying the garden's peacefulness."
Charlotte's cheeks flushed as she sat back down, her fingers intertwined around the book. "I love the cool weather here at night," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The fragrance from the garden is intoxicating."
Markus hummed in agreement, his smile unwavering. "Do you mind if I I join you?" he asked, his brow arched in a query.
Charlotte's heart skipped a beat. She shook her head hastily, her ponytail swishing. "Of course not, Prince Markus. Please, make yourself comfortable."
Markus settled beside her, his gaze drifting to the book in her hands. "You read books?" he asked, curiosity lacing his tone.
Charlotte nodded, her eyes sparkling bright blue. "Yes, I do," she said, her voice steady and filled with conviction. "I find solace in the stories and knowledge within these pages." Markus's gaze intensified, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"I've never met someone as passionate about reading as I am," he said, his voice low and smooth. His gaze fell on the book's title, and he read out loud, "Milka and the Lord of the East." Charlotte's eyes met his, excitement radiating from her very being.
"Have you read this?" she asked, a hint of laughter in her voice. "I've read this book a million times." Markus nodded, his smile etched on his face, mirroring her enthusiasm.
"Yes, Lady Charlotte, it is absolutely alluring," he agreed. Charlotte hummed in concurrence, her excitement gradually fading. "I do not like the book's end, though. Milka doesn't end up with the Lord, even though they loved each other." Her brow furrowed, a subtle crease between her eyebrows.
Markus shrugged, his shoulders rising in a gentle motion. "I guess villains never get a happy ending. Besides, Milka should have been more understanding." Charlotte's gaze narrowed, her voice taking on a defensive tone.
"The Lord shouldn't have been such a coward," she argued, "placing his ambitions and fears before Milka." Markus chuckled, the sound low and soothing, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
"He had to fight for the throne, Milka would have been a distraction to him," he countered. Charlotte's expression remained unconvinced, her lips pursed.
"The Lord should have given her a proper reason or closure," she insisted, closing the book in her hands as she properly faced Markus. The moonlight highlighted the determination etched on her features.
Markus clasped his hands, his voice filled with mirth. "I won't argue anymore, Lady Charlotte. Milka did deserve the best..." He trailed off, his gaze holding hers.
Charlotte nodded, placing the book on her gown, the fabric rustling softly. "It's getting even darker," she said, "I should return to my quarters. Anna would be worried."
Markus hummed in agreement, standing up from the bench with an effortless grace. "Right, you might catch a cold if you don't go in now. Come, I'll take you to your chambers."
Charlotte's face warmed, her cheeks radiating a soft glow in the dim light. She waved her free hand, protesting.
"That isn't necessary, Prince Markus; I can go on my own." Markus's expression remained resolute, his voice low and soothing.
"I insist, Lady Charlotte." Charlotte nodded, her lips forming a silent thank you. As they walked into the castle, the silence between them grew comfortable.
"I'm sorry about the king's death," Charlotte whispered, breaking the stillness. Markus nodded, his smile faintly visible in the dim light.
"It's okay, Lady Charlotte." He paused. "Although I'm surprised you didn't leave with the other guests." Charlotte's heart skipped a beat. She was grateful for the dim light that concealed her flushed cheeks. She pursed her lips, knowing that Markus was the main reason she had stayed behind.
"I love the castle's weather and beauty," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Markus hummed in agreement, their footsteps echoing through the quiet corridors.
As they reached Charlotte's room, she turned to him. "Thank you, Prince Markus." Her smile faltered, and the book slipped from her fingers. In a synchronized motion, they bent to retrieve it.
Markus's hands closed around the book first. Charlotte rose, her hair accidentally tangling with the buttons on Markus's vest. "Ouch!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with embarrassment.
Markus's hands instinctively reached out to help Charlotte untangle her hair, his fingers brushing against her neck. The touch sent shivers down her spine.
"Allow me," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. Charlotte's heart raced as she nodded, her eyes locked on his. The dim light danced across his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face.
With gentle precision, Markus freed Charlotte's hair from his vest. His fingers lingered, tracing the strands as they fell loose. Charlotte's skin tingled, her pulse pounding in her throat.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Markus's gaze held hers, a soft smile playing on his lips.
"It's my pleasure, Lady Charlotte," he replied, his voice low and calm.
Charlotte's cheeks flushed, and she looked away, breaking the spell. Markus cleared his throat, stepping back to create distance.
"Rest well, Lady Charlotte," he said, his tone formal once more. "I'll bid you goodnight." Charlotte nodded, her smile faltering.
"Goodnight, Prince Markus," she replied, her voice still barely above a whisper. Charlotte watched until Markus disappeared through the corridors before entering her room.