The moment we stepped out of the car onto the polished stone of Harbor Square, the scent of salt and citrus filled the air. The sun reflected off the shimmering sea, casting golden hues across the bustling port city of Aquamarina. This city is often referred to as a merchant's dream. The people had gathered in droves, waving banners, tossing flower petals, and cheering in greeting.
Governor Laurent approached with his signature broad smile, his weathered face a testament to years spent under the sun and wind of the coast. "Your Highnesses," he greeted, offering a deep bow. "Welcome to Aquamarina. We are honored to host you."
"Thank you, Governor," Alexander replied smoothly, ever the diplomat.
I forced a polite nod, my gaze drifting beyond him to the sprawling harbor. Merchant ships, luxury yachts, and formidable naval vessels lined the docks, their sails fluttering in the sea breeze. Traders called out their wares, the scent of spices and fresh seafood thick in the air.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the Governor led us to his official residence, a grand estate overlooking the harbor. We were to spend the night there before resuming our tour in the morning. The rooms were lavish but carried the warmth of a home rather than the rigid opulence of a palace. I barely slept, my thoughts tangled in the events of the day and the ever-present tension between Alexander and me.
The next morning, our tour began.
"We have prepared a full itinerary for you today," Lady Genevieve, the royal press coordinator, announced. "First, a tour of the Grand Seafarer's Market. It is one of the most renowned trading hubs in the world."
That piqued my interest. I had never visited the market, but I had heard the stories—a place where rare spices, exotic fabrics, and relics from distant lands exchanged hands, where the voices of traders rose over the din of seagulls and ocean waves.
We made our way through the streets, flanked by city guards and followed by the ever-watchful press. As we neared the market, the air grew thick with the mingling aromas of grilled seafood, fresh herbs, and sweet pastries. Stalls lined the cobblestone paths, their vendors shouting their best offers to eager customers.
A merchant, an elderly woman with dark, sun-kissed skin and keen eyes, caught my attention as she held up a delicate silver chain with an aquamarine pendant. "A stone from the deepest waters," she said with pride. "Said to bring clarity of mind and strength of heart."
I reached out, running my fingers over the cool metal. "How much?"
She studied me for a moment, then smiled. "For you, Your Highness, it is a gift."
I frowned. "I prefer to pay."
"Then pay with a promise," she countered. "That you will return to Aquamarina, not as a guest, but as one of its own."
The sentiment caught me off guard, and I hesitated. Before I could respond, Alexander spoke. "A generous offer. And one I am sure he will consider."
I shot him a look, but the woman merely nodded in satisfaction, pressing the chain into my hand before turning back to her wares.
We continued through the market, greeted at every turn by enthusiastic citizens eager to share their stories. A fisherman proudly displayed his latest catch, a young girl offered me a handmade seashell bracelet, and an elderly scholar engaged me in a passionate discussion about Aquamarina's naval history.
From there, we visited the shipyards, where master craftsmen shaped wood and metal into vessels fit for exploration and trade. The rhythmic hammering of nails into planks mixed with the crashing waves, a melody of industry and ambition. A shipbuilder, his hands calloused from years of labor, described the process of constructing a vessel meant to withstand the most turbulent seas.
"A ship is more than wood and sails," he said. "It's a promise to those who sail it. A bond between man and ocean."
The words stuck with me as we continued to our next destination—the Naval Academy, where rows of cadets stood in perfect formation, their uniforms crisp, their expressions disciplined. The head instructor, a stern man with a salt-and-pepper beard, led us through the training grounds, where recruits practiced combat drills and navigational exercises.
"The cooperation between Avaloria and Veridia's fleets is vital to our continued security," Alexander commented as we observed a group of cadets sparring. "A strong navy ensures safe trade routes."
"Always thinking strategically," I muttered.
Alexander smirked. "And you're not?"
I rolled my eyes. "Unlike you, I don't spend every waking moment plotting."
"That explains why you get into trouble so easily."
I let out a sharp laugh. "I get into trouble? Says the prince who—"
"Careful, Lucien," he interrupted, amusement gleaming in his eyes. "You wouldn't want to expose my darkest secrets in front of these fine cadets."
I huffed but found myself suppressing a grin. It was a strange moment—lighter than our usual barbed exchanges. Alexander noticed too, I think, because his smirk softened into something almost… amicable. The thought was unsettling.
Instead of dwelling on it, I turned my attention to a young cadet who stood at rigid attention, barely concealing his nerves as we approached.
"Your Highnesses," he greeted, his voice firm despite the slight tremor in his hands.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Cadet Elias, Your Highness."
"And what made you join the navy, Elias?"
His eyes lit up with determination. "My father was a sailor. He always told me the sea was both a challenge and a promise. I want to honor him by protecting the waters he loved."
Something in his words resonated with me. "A challenge and a promise," I echoed. "A fitting description. I hope you serve well, Elias."
He beamed, his shoulders squaring with newfound confidence.
The day continued at a relentless pace, leading us to the Governor's estate for the evening banquet and maritime-themed ball. The grand hall was adorned with deep blue banners, golden chandeliers casting a soft glow over the guests. The scent of roasted seafood and spiced wine filled the air as musicians played a lively waltz.
As expected, I was expected to dance.
And, unfortunately, with Alexander.
As we took our positions, my mind drifted—back to the night before, to the way it had felt to dance with him, to the unsettling ease of it.
"Try not to step on my feet this time," Alexander murmured, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"No promises," I shot back, placing my hand in his.
"I'll consider it a victory if I leave this dance uninjured."
"Oh, please. If anyone should be worried, it's me. You have all the grace of a drunken sailor."
His chuckle was warm, disarming. "And yet, we always manage to stay in step."
I didn't have a response for that. Because, annoyingly, he was right. As the music swelled around us, we moved, our steps perfectly in sync. The world blurred, just for a moment, and I hated that part of me wondered—what if?
But there was no room for what-ifs. Only the charade. The dance continued, and so did the illusion.