13 September, 1368. St Ivan's Palace, Havietten.
Celia was curled up in a corner of the palace's cavernous library, a thick book opened on her lap. She'd deliberately chosen an obscure corner, where she could still be warmed by the fireplace, but was hidden from view from the main entry doors.
She knew no good would come from being caught spending her days devouring book after book. Tobin's words from the previous week still rang in her ears.
Ever since he'd barred her from meeting with foreign ambassadors and reviewing their documents, she'd gone back to her previous existence of soul destroying boredom.
Sitting in her rooms with nothing but needlework and prayer to fill the empty hours.
He'd forbidden her from doing what she enjoyed, not because she'd been doing a poor job. Quite the opposite.
No, Tobin had done it to simply steal her joy and sense of purpose.
He didn't want a wife that showed any ability or intelligence, that was obvious. But said wife knew she couldn't just meekly comply. Her mind was too restless to allow her to live that way.
Especially when for a few glorious weeks, she'd had a taste of something better.
So Celia hid away in the library as many days as she could, feeding her mind. She loved the many wonderful books that King Aron owned, dusty old volumes filled with romantic poems and ballads from ancient bards.
Even if she was caught, she reasoned, it couldn't be so terrible. After all, she was only reading poetry, not official documents.
So why did she jump with such fear when a shadow suddenly loomed over her shoulder?
Celia instinctively slammed shut the book she was reading with such force, it sounded like a a thunderclap to her nervous ears. She looked up, expecting to see Tobin's angry scowl.
Instead, she found herself looking up into the face of a startlingly handsome man. She immediately recognised him as Viscount Nadrim's son.
And Tobin's apparent friend.
The was no malice in his expression, though. On the contrary, he looked friendly, if rather curious.
"My apologies for startling you, Your Grace. I didn't expect to find you here alone like this." He smiled politely down at her.
"It's alright, I have to leave anyway." Celia quickly stumbled to her feet, trying not to sound flustered. Unfortunately, she rose quickly and without thinking of the book on her lap. It tumbled to the floor with a deafening crash.
Why must I always be so fucking awkward, she asked herself in dismay?
Before Celia could crouch down to pick up the valuable old book, the man picked it up and held it out to her.
"Thank you." she muttered through lips that barely moved. All she could think about was running and fleeing. She wanted to bolt before he could ask her all sorts of questions about why a princess was in the library.
He didn't. Instead, he glanced at the title etched on the book's cover and smiled. "You like ancient poetry, Your Grace?"
"Yes. I've loved it since I was a child." Why lie at this point, she figured? She'd already been caught.
The man smiled wider, revealing lovely straight teeth. "As do I. I find there's so few people who truly appreciate it, though. So it's not a popular conversation topic at this court, which is quite a pity."
Celia slowly took the book from his hand, peering up at him with suspicion. What was he doing being friendly? Was he trying to make her confess something he could report to Tobin?
He arched his brows at her, which sat over wide set eyes the colour of slate. "There's no reason to look so frightened, my lady. I'm not going to harm you."
She shook her head a little, ignoring his words. She refused to let him trick her into letting her guard down.
The man's expression softened further. "I'm truly sorry for causing you distress. May I at least walk you to your apartments, Your Grace?"
Celia quickly shook her head again and shoved the old book into the nearest bookshelf with a gap in it. "There's no need for that, thank you. I know my way back."
She gave the stranger a brisk nod and turned to leave the library.
But as she strode down the corridors leading to her apartments, she could feels eyes on her back and hear footsteps a little behind her. The two times she glanced over her shoulder, she saw the young man there. Several steps behind, but definitely following her.
Unable to stand it any longer, Celia abruptly stopped walking and turned around to face him.
"Why are you following me?" she demanded.
"I'm simply making sure you make it to your rooms safely, my lady." He kept a few paces of distance between them.
"I appreciate that, but there's no need. Nothing bad is going to befall me." Celia waved her hands impatiently. "Everyone here knows to avoid me, so no one's going to dare approach and cause me any harm. So thank you but you may go now, um…"
She stared blankly, realising she'd completely forgotten his name.
"Lucas."
"W-what?"
"My name is Lucas." he repeated patiently.
"Just Lucas? Don't you have a family name, then?" Celia asked with a bluntness her father would've applauded. She knew what his family name was but recoiled at how he'd introduced himself to her.
So warmly, so simply. As if the two of them could be friends.
The man grinned at her and it made him look twice as handsome. "I have a family name, yes. Though it's definitely not as important as yours, Princess. I'm Lucas Nadrim and it's a pleasure to meet you."
"Nadrim…" Celia let the name roll off her tongue, pretending to hear it for the first time.
"If you're thinking it sounds familiar, you're probably thinking of my father. He was ambassador to Islia for several years."
"Ah. I see now." Celia nodded. "So that would make you Viscount Nadrim's son?"
"Indeed."
"He was certainly a very popular figure at my grandfather's court." she said drily. "Especially with the noble ladies."
The love struck ladies of the Islian court had practically come to blows over him.