Chapter Three.
HIS OBSESSION.
The morning began with an outbreak of activity at Wellenberg Manor, the quiet pressure of the household breaking under the demands of unexpected royal visitors.
Lilac had woken to the hurried whispers of servants and the sharp echo of boots in the hallways, a stark contrast to the usual brooding silence of the estate.
She pressed herself into the shadows as maids scurried past her door, carrying trays of polished silverware and freshly pressed linens.
"Prince Edward is arriving," one of them hissed, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Why here?" another replied, her tone strained. "What business does the prince have with Lord Asphalt?"
Their voices faded as they disappeared down the hall, leaving Lilac to puzzle over the news.
A prince? She had heard of Prince Edward, of course—his charm and striking appearance were the talk of every market square and whispered over by village girls who dreamed of fairy tale endings.
But what would someone like him want with Lord Ashalt, whose cold behavior and withdrawn nature seemed the antithesis of Edward's reputation?
Lilac didn't have to wonder for long. By late morning, the grand carriage arrived, its lacquered surface gleaming in the pale sunlight as it rolled up the cobblestone drive.
Lilac peeked through the narrow crack in the curtains of her room, her breath catching as the prince stepped out.
Edward was every bit as handsome as the stories claimed. His golden hair glinted in the light, framing a face of sculpted cheekbones and a sharp jawline.
He carried himself with an air of easy confidence, his smile dazzling as he greeted the butler who had come to meet him.
An escort of knights and attendants followed, their polished armor flashing as they dismounted and took their places near the carriage.
Lilac shrank back from the window as Edward entered the manor, her heart racing. She wasn't sure why she felt so disturbed by his arrival. Perhaps it was because someone so bright and golden seemed entirely out of place in Wellenberg's dark and shadowed halls.
By midday, Lilac was busying herself in the kitchens, helping to prepare the meal for the prince and his entourage. The head cook, an older woman with a sharp tongue but a kind heart, had taken a liking to Lilac and often found her tasks to keep her occupied.
"You'd best stay out of sight today," the cook warned as she kneaded a mound of dough. "Men like Prince Edward—They notice things they shouldn't."
Lilac frowned, unsure how to respond. The cook had never spoken to her like this before, her tone laced with something close to fear.
"I don't see why he'd notice me," Lilac said quietly. "I'm no one."
The cook paused, glancing at her with a furrowed brow. "Best keep thinking that way, girl."
The words lingered with Lilac as she carried a tray of freshly baked bread toward the dining hall. The closer she got, the louder the voices became—Ashalt's deep, measured tone countered by Edward's lively and commanding voice.
She hesitated just outside the door, her curiosity warring with her instinct to remain unnoticed.
The moment stretched, and before she could decide whether to enter or retreat, the door swung open.
Edward stood there, his golden presence almost blinding against the somber backdrop of the hall. He blinked at her, his expression shifting from surprise to fascination in the span of a heartbeat.
"And who is this?" he asked, his voice rich and smooth as honey.
Lilac froze, her cheeks flaming. "I—I'm just a servant, Your Highness," she stammered, lowering her gaze.
"Just a servant?" Edward repeated, his tone teasing as he stepped closer. "Surely, a name accompanies such a face."
"Her name is Lilac," Ashalt said coolly from behind him, his tone sharp enough to cut. "And she has work to do."
Edward's smile didn't falter, but something flickered in his eyes as he glanced back at Asphalt. "Of course," he said lightly. "Forgive me for delaying her."
He stepped aside, gesturing for her to pass, but as Lilac moved to slip by, she felt his gaze linger on her like a physical weight. She kept her head down, her hands trembling as she placed the tray on the table and hurried out of the room.
The rest of the day passed in a haze. Lilac tried to avoid the prince as much as possible, but it seemed an impossible task.
Everywhere she went, Edward was there—leaning against the doorframe of the library, strolling through the gardens, or standing at the top of the grand staircase, his piercing blue eyes scanning the hallways as if searching for something.
It was unsettling, the way his attention seemed to gravitate toward her. Even when she wasn't in his presence, she could feel it, like a whisper at the back of her mind.
Lord Asphalt, on the other hand, seemed increasingly irritated by Edward's presence. Lilac noticed the way his jaw tightened whenever Edward spoke, the way his gaze darkened when the prince's charm drew laughter from the servants.
By evening, the tension in the manor was observable. The dining hall was a picture of strained politeness as Asphalt and Edward sat at opposite ends of the long table, their conversation polite but laced with unspoken hatred.
Lilac, tasked with serving the wine, kept her head down as she moved between them, keenly aware of the way Edward's gaze followed her every movement.
"And what of the eastern border?" Asphalt was saying, his tone clipped. "The restlessness there has grown unchecked for too long."
Edward waved a hand dismissively. "The eastern border is a trifling matter. The court is more concerned with alliances closer to home."
Ashalt's expression hardened. "Trifling matters have a way of becoming crises when left unchecked."
Edward's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Which is why I'm here, Lord Wellenberg—to ensure such matters are resolved swiftly. I'm sure you understand the importance of securing the crown's interests."
The unspoken challenge hung in the air, and Lilac hurried to refill Ashalt's goblet, hoping to avoid being caught in the crossfire.
"Thank you, Lilac," Ashalt said quietly, his tone softer than she expected.
She nodded quickly, retreating to the shadows of the room.
Later that night, Lilac found herself in the library, seeking relief among the rows of dusty books. She hadn't meant to linger, but the oppressive atmosphere of the manor had driven her here, to a place that felt removed from the rest of the world.
She was startled when the door creaked open, and Edward stepped inside.
"I had a feeling I'd find you here," he said, his voice warm.
Lilac rose from her seat, her heart pounding. "Your Highness, I—"
"Please, call me Edward," he interrupted, holding up a hand. "No need for formality."
She hesitated, unsure how to respond. "I didn't mean to intrude..."
"You're not intruding," he said, his smile disarming as he stepped closer. "I was hoping we might speak."
Lilac took a step back, the instinctive motion betraying her unease. "What about?"
Edward's gaze softened, his expression earnest. "I've noticed how the others treat you here. You seem—out of place. Different."
Lilac's throat tightened. "I'm just a servant."
"Are you?" he asked, his tone curious. "You carry yourself with more grace than most nobles I know."
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, unsure how to respond. "I should go," she said quickly, moving toward the door.
But Edward caught her wrist, his touch gentle but firm. "Lilac," he said softly. "You don't belong here."
She froze, her heart racing as she met his gaze. There was something in his eyes—something intense and unrelenting. For a moment, she couldn't breathe, caught in the weight of his stare.
"I—I really should go," she whispered, pulling her hand free.
Edward's expression darkened for the briefest moment, but then his smile returned, bright and charming as ever. "Of course," he said, stepping aside. "Forgive me if I've overstepped."
Lilac nodded quickly, slipping out of the library and into the safety of the dimly lit hallway. But even as she hurried back to her quarters, she couldn't shake the feeling of Edward's eyes on her, nor the strange sense of foreboding that had taken root in her chest.
In the shadows of the library, Edward watched her go, his smile fading as his expression hardened.
"She's perfect," he murmured to himself, his voice low and filled with quiet determination.
As the candles flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls, his gaze lingered on the doorway, his obsession burning brighter with every passing moment.