The streets of Veridia stretched before me, a seamless blend of past and future, as if the city itself refused to be defined by time. Ornate stone bridges arched over sleek, automated transit rails, and towering spires of glass reflected the stained-glass windows of centuries-old cathedrals.
It was beautiful.
And yet, I could feel the weight of the day pressing down on me.
I was meant to walk these streets with a man I barely tolerated, pretending for the world that we were something we weren't. The whole damn tour felt like a performance with no intermission.
Across from me in the car, Alexander scrolled through his phone, unaffected as ever. The man had the emotional depth of a polished statue.
"We will begin in the historic district," our royal coordinator announced. "Afterward, we'll visit Vexis Square, then conclude at Azure Bazaar. This is an opportunity to engage with the citizens."
Engage. Right.
I turned back to the window, watching as our car rolled to a stop at the first destination.
Elden Quarter was a relic of Veridia's golden age. The streets were paved with smooth, timeworn stone, and the air smelled of parchment, burning incense, and old wood. Towering clock towers stood over us, their chimes marking the passage of time as we made our way toward the Hall of Kings.
A historian, an elderly man named Edric Vance, greeted us. "It is an honor, Your Highnesses."
His voice carried the weight of years, his gaze lingering on me as though he saw not just a prince, but a continuation of history itself.
"Your great-grandfather stood here once, Prince Lucien," Edric said, leading me to an immense portrait of King Aldric III. The man in the painting was a warrior, his armor battered yet proud, his eyes sharp and unyielding.
"He defended this nation in its darkest hour," Edric murmured. "And now you stand on the threshold of your own legacy."
I didn't respond. Because what could I say? That I wasn't sure I was worthy of that legacy?
Before I could dwell on it, a soft voice broke through my thoughts.
"I knew your father, once."
I turned to find an elderly woman with silver hair woven into a delicate braid. Her eyes held warmth—a stark contrast to the world I had grown accustomed to.
"I am Mira Fendrel," she introduced herself with a bow. "I was a healer in the palace when your father was a boy."
I frowned slightly. "You knew my father?"
Mira smiled wistfully. "He scraped his knee sneaking into the kitchens once. I patched him up. He promised me that day he would be a good king."
I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight. Did he keep that promise?
Mira placed a gentle hand over mine. "He did."
For a moment, I forgot the cameras, the tour, and even Alexander. I just stood there, holding the words of a woman who had known the boy my father once was.
It was only when Alexander spoke that reality came crashing back.
"Prince Lucien carries Veridia's strength in him," he said smoothly. "I am honored to stand by his side."
I turned sharply, my jaw tightening. The audacity.
We left soon after. But Mira's words lingered.
Vexis Square pulsed with life. Towering skyscrapers gleamed under the afternoon sun, their glass facades reflecting holographic billboards that projected the latest innovations. Self-driving vehicles glided along smooth roads, while drones zipped overhead.
Inside NovaTek Industries, we were met by a young scientist named Dr. Elias Marcan. His lab coat was slightly wrinkled, his eyes burning with passion.
"It's an honor, Your Highnesses," Elias greeted us. "We're developing the future here."
He led us to a medical exosuit—a sleek, biomechanical frame designed to restore mobility to injured soldiers.
"How does it work?" I asked, intrigued despite myself.
Elias perked up. "It links to the patient's nervous system, allowing natural movement. We're still in testing, but the results are promising."
Alexander nodded. "This could change lives."
I arched a brow at him. "You sound almost… human."
Alexander smirked. "And you sound almost interested in something other than glaring at me."
I sighed. "Don't get used to it."
Nearby, a young girl adjusted a drone on a workbench. Noticing us, she hesitated before stepping forward, cradling the small device in her hands.
"I—I made this," she stammered.
I crouched slightly. "What's your name?"
Her eyes widened. "Nia Calderon."
"And what does this do, Nia?"
She straightened with pride. "It's a solar-powered messenger drone. It can deliver letters across the city, even in bad weather."
I found myself smiling. "You built this yourself?"
She nodded eagerly.
Alexander leaned in. "That's impressive. Perhaps you'll run NovaTek one day."
Nia's eyes sparkled. "Do you really think so?"
I met her gaze. "If anyone tells you otherwise, they're wrong."
As we left, Alexander murmured, "That was almost… kind."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't get used to it."
The Azure Bazaar was a riot of color and sound. The scent of roasted spices and honey-drenched pastries filled the air. Merchants called out their wares, vibrant fabrics billowed in the breeze, and musicians played lively tunes on street corners.
I drifted toward a bakery stall where a woman kneaded dough with practiced ease. The scent of freshly baked pastries surrounded her like a warm embrace.
"You must try one," the baker, Elira Myros, said with a knowing smile. "Even a prince needs something sweet."
I glanced over the selection—flaky honey pastries, golden-brown and glistening. "Which do you recommend?"
Elira grinned. "The almond-honey tarts. A royal favorite."
I pulled out a few coins and set them on the counter. "I'll take two."
Elira hesitated. "Your Highness, I couldn't possibly—"
"I insist," I cut in. "Good food deserves to be paid for."
She beamed, carefully wrapping the pastries before handing them over. "May they bring you a moment of joy, Prince Lucien."
I took a bite. The pastry was crisp, buttery, the honey melting on my tongue. It reminded me of the ones my mother used to sneak me in the palace gardens.
Alexander watched, arms crossed. "You look suspiciously pleased."
I smirked. "For once, I have something sweet that isn't laced with your presence."
Alexander chuckled. "You wound me."
A group of children ran up, holding out small flowers. One boy, Theo, peered up at me.
"Do you love each other?"
I nearly choked on my pastry.
Alexander, ever the performer, smiled smoothly. "Love is built over time."
I exhaled, kneeling before Theo. "And patience," I added dryly, casting Alexander a pointed look.
Theo frowned. "So… you don't?"
I chuckled. "Let's say it's a work in progress."
Alexander smirked but said nothing.
As we left the market, he leaned closer. "You play your part well."
I sighed. "And you're annoyingly good at this."
Alexander's smirk widened. "Don't get used to it."
I exhaled. This was only the beginning.
And tomorrow, the performance would continue.
As the sun began to set over Veridia, the city transformed. Lanterns flickered to life, casting a golden glow over the Grand Plaza. The citizens had arranged a cultural performance in our honor, and despite my reluctance to play along with this charade, I couldn't help but admire the effort.
A grand stage had been set up in the center of the plaza, its backdrop adorned with intricate tapestries depicting Veridian history. The air was filled with the rhythmic pulse of drums and the melodic hum of stringed instruments.
The first performance was a traditional dance—graceful and precise, performed by a group of young women dressed in flowing emerald and gold attire. Their movements mimicked the rise and fall of ocean waves, a tribute to Veridia's naval history.
Next came a choral arrangement, sung by a group of children. Their voices were pure, unwavering, carrying lyrics about unity, strength, and the hope of a new era. I stood still as their words wrapped around me, unexpectedly moved by their sincerity.
Then, the moment I dreaded arrived.
A performer stepped forward, smiling mischievously. "Your Highnesses," she called out, "it is tradition for guests of honor to join in the final dance."
I tensed.
I wasn't a terrible dancer, but the thought of moving in sync with Alexander in front of an audience made my stomach twist.
Alexander, of course, was already stepping forward, offering his hand toward me as if this were the most natural thing in the world. "Shall we?"
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
Still, I could hardly refuse without appearing ungracious.
I took his hand.
The music shifted to a lively, celebratory rhythm, and we were led into a traditional partner dance. It involved quick footwork, coordinated spins, and a certain level of trust—something we didn't have.
But as we moved, something strange happened.
For once, we weren't speaking, weren't trading barbed words or pointed glares.
We were just two people in motion, caught up in something larger than ourselves.
Alexander's hand was steady against mine, his movements precise yet fluid. When he spun me—far too gracefully for my liking—I caught the glint of amusement in his eyes.
I didn't let him have the last word.
When the dance called for a final synchronized step, I executed it flawlessly, landing with a poised smirk. The crowd erupted into applause.
Alexander leaned in just enough for only me to hear. "Not bad."
I exhaled, shaking my head. "Don't get used to it."
For a moment, we didn't hate each other as much.
And then the music ended, and the world returned to normal.