Chapter 10 - Gilded Greetings

The sound of more trumpets interrupted the lingering murmurs of the gathered crowd, and heads turned toward the eastern gate. Another procession approached, this one marked by the unmistakable colors of the Ilyrrian KingdomMy mother glanced at me, her expression composed but her eyes sharp. "Princess Deliah," she said softly, though her voice carried the weight of significance.

Deliah's carriage, adorned in sapphire and white, rolled smoothly into the courtyard. The horses pulling it were as regal as the procession before, their silver bridles gleaming in the fading sunlight. The Ilyrrian crest shimmered on the side of the carriage, a dark red phoenix rising from golden flames. Behind the carriage followed a modest yet elegant retinue, their demeanor one of quiet confidence.

"Crowned Princess Deliah," my mother said, stepping forward with a practiced smile. "Welcome to Evirthnia. Your presence honors us."

Deliah dipped into a graceful curtsey, her expression composed. "Queen Aedalia," she replied, her voice soft yet steady. "The honor is mine. I thank you for your hospitality."

When the conversation lulled, he stepped forward. "Princess Deliah," he said, his bow faulty from the dozens of missed lessons, but thankfully not too noticeably horrible. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last. I hope Evirthnia has made a suitable first impression."

Deliah looked at him, her polite smile never wavering. "It has been lovely so far, Your Highness," she replied. "I look forward to seeing more of your kingdom."

A pause stretched between them—brief but palpable. Octavian inclined his head, his lips curving faintly. "I trust we'll make this arrangement… mutually agreeable."

Her gaze held his for a moment before she nodded, her expression unreadable. "I trust so as well."

Renial leaned closer to me, his voice barely above a whisper, "Romantic, aren't they?"

I shooed him away like a fly, though a small smile tugged at my lips despite myself. He wasn't wrong. Their exchange was quick, almost clinical, yet the weight of their unspoken thoughts lingered in the space between them. But whatever reservations they harbored about this union, they were carefully buried beneath layers of decorum.

I stepped in, determined to shift the energy. "Princess Deliah," I said, stepping forward with a smile that I hoped conveyed warmth, "Welcome to Evirthnia. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, though I must say I have thoroughly enjoyed our correspondence."

Deliah inclined her head with a measured smile. "As have I, Princess Ophelia. The pleasure is all mine. Your reputation precedes you."

"And yours as well," I replied, holding her gaze. "I trust your journey was comfortable? If you are not too weary, I would be delighted to offer you a tour of the palace before the evening's festivities."

But before Deliah could respond, a voice broke through the air—smooth, warm, and far too informal for the occasion.

"Princess Deliah," Lucien said as he stepped forward, his expression alight with curiosity and a touch of mischief. "You bring a touch of Ilyrrian elegance to our gathering. The courtyard might never recover from your radiance."

Deliah turned toward him, her polite smile never faltering, though she cast me a brief, questioning glance. "You are kind, my lord. Though I fear the honor belongs to Evirthnia. This palace is truly magnificent."

"Please," Lucien replied, his tone richer, more personal, "call me Lucien. And let me assure you, your presence has already improved it."

The air in the courtyard shifted, a ripple of unease passing through the gathered nobles. It was highly improper for Lucien to address Deliah first, especially before I had completed my welcome. The ease with which he discarded formalities only added to my discomfort—and to the tightening sensation in my chest.

I cleared my throat, stepping closer to reassert my role. "Lucien," I said with a pointed smile, "I was just about to show Princess Deliah the palace myself."

Before Lucien could respond, a palace attendant approached, bowing deeply. "Your Highness, the council requests your presence in the west wing. It is a matter of some urgency."

My composure wavered briefly. "Now?"

"Yes, Your Highness," the attendant said, his tone apologetic.

I glanced at my mother, whose expression remained unyielding. There was no escaping this obligation. Suppressing a sigh, I turned back to Deliah. "It seems I must attend to other matters, Princess Deliah. I deeply regret I cannot accompany you myself. Perhaps my brother could step in and guide you in my stead?"

Octavian's brows rose slightly, and a slow, sardonic smile spread across his face. "As much as I would love to," he said, his tone light and deliberately aggravating, "pressing matters demand my attention elsewhere too. Surely someone else can take on the honor?"

I shot him a look, but before I could retort, Lucien stepped forward smoothly. "If I may, Princess Ophelia," he said, his smile widening, "I would be honored to give Princess Deliah a tour of the palace. It would be my pleasure to acquaint her with its beauty."

Deliah hesitated, glancing between Lucien and me. Her polite mask remained intact, though her eyes revealed a flicker of uncertainty. "That is very kind of you, Lucien. I would not wish to impose."

"It is no imposition," Lucien assured her, his tone carrying a disarming charm. "In fact, it would give me the chance to learn more about the famed Princess Deliah."

I forced a composed smile, my gaze briefly meeting Deliah's. "Then I leave you in capable hands, Princess. I trust you will find the palace to your liking."

With that, I turned on my heel, my steps deliberate as I followed the attendant toward the council chambers. But my thoughts lingered behind me, tangled with the sight of Lucien and Deliah together, and the faintly triumphant smirk on Octavian's face.

Lucien led Deliah through the grand halls of the palace with an effortless grace that bordered on practiced charm. He occasionally walked a step ahead, gesturing to tapestries and architectural details with the ease of someone both knowledgeable and unbothered. "This corridor," he said, pausing before a wall adorned with a centuries-old tapestry, "depicts the first alliance between Evirthnia and the Kingdom of Ilyrria. If you look closely, you'll see the phoenix rising from flames—an homage, I believe, to your crest."

Deliah studied the intricate embroidery, her fingers brushing the edge of the fabric. "It's beautiful," she murmured, her voice carrying a faint wistfulness. For a moment, her heart ached for home. "You seem well-versed in these matters."

Lucien's grin widened. "I have my moments. Though, truth be told, most of what I know was either drilled into me by my mother or discovered during my less disciplined youth. My mother has a particular talent for ensuring her lessons stick."

Deliah's lips curved into a faint smile, the first flicker of genuine amusement breaking through her poised demeanor. "She sounds formidable."

"That's one word for it," Lucien replied, a playful glint in his eye. "I'd say 'unrelenting' fits better."

Their conversation grew lighter as he guided her through various wings of the palace, pointing out features both grand and trivial. Deliah found herself laughing softly at his commentary, the stiffness in her posture easing with each passing moment.

When they reached the gardens, the air was cooler, scented with blooming wisteria and lavender. Lucien paused by a stone fountain, its surface rippling under the dimming glow of the late afternoon sun, now fading into evening. "This," he said, his tone quieter, almost reverent, "is my favorite part of the palace. It's quiet here. Peaceful."

Deliah stepped closer, her gaze sweeping over the meticulously arranged flowers and winding paths. "It's lovely," she murmured. "A place to breathe."

Lucien turned to her, his expression shifting to something deeper, more contemplative. "You don't seem like someone who gets much time to breathe."

Her eyes met his, and for a fleeting moment, the guardedness in her expression faltered. "Not often," she admitted. "But I suspect you understand that feeling."

He nodded, his usual playful demeanor giving way to sincerity. "More than I care to admit."

The moment stretched between them, the soft hum of the garden filling the silence. Deliah's gaze drifted toward the fountain as Lucien took a subtle step closer, as if drawn by something unspoken. "You know," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "for someone so poised, you have a way of making everything feel... lighter."

Deliah's lips parted, a response forming on the edge of her thoughts, but the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the quiet.

"Ah, there you are," Ophelia's voice rang out, sharp yet composed. She emerged from the shaded pathway, with Octavian and Renial trailing behind. Her gaze swept over the pair, lingering briefly on their proximity. "I see the tour has brought you to the gardens."

Lucien stepped back, his signature grin returning as he turned to greet the newcomers. "Ophelia, your timing is as impeccable as ever."

Renial smirked, leaning casually against a nearby tree. "Interrupting something, were we?"

Octavian's expression was outwardly neutral, but the slight raise of his brow betrayed his amusement. "Seems the famed Lucien charm is in full display. I trust you're enjoying yourself, Princess Deliah?"

Deliah recovered quickly, her polished demeanor returning with practiced ease. "The palace is remarkable," she replied, her voice even. "Lucien has been a gracious guide."

"Has he now?" Ophelia's tone was light but edged with something unreadable. "Well, I'm sure he's covered enough for today. Shall we return to the main hall? The evening festivities await."

Lucien inclined his head, his smile never wavering. "Lead the way, Princess."

As the group began their walk back, Ophelia's gaze flicked briefly to Lucien and Deliah, her expression calm but inscrutable. The moment in the gardens had passed, but its undercurrents lingered, threading themselves into the fabric of what was yet to come.