Chapter 2

Lena’s POV

The morning court buzzed on as it always did—measured voices, careful words wrapped in courtesy. I sat upon the throne, fingers tracing the worn carving along the armrest. Generations of rulers had rested their hands here.

“Your Majesty,” one of the councilors spoke, breaking the rhythm of my thoughts, “the matter of foreign alliances remains unresolved.”

Another voice followed quickly. “Several cities still hesitate to recognize the Queen’s authority.”

I kept my expression calm. Regal. Unmoved.
Inside, something tightened.

“They fear instability,” a third councilor added. “Tradition weighs heavily in times like these.”

Tradition.

“As we have discussed before,” the first continued carefully, “a union with one of the noble houses within the royal lineage may… reassure them.”

A marriage.

I let my fingers still. Slowly, I lifted my gaze. “You believe a ring will succeed where peace and prosperity have not?”

A brief silence followed.

“It is not your leadership they question, Your Majesty,” another councilor said, choosing his words with care. “It is your lineage.”

There it was.

I listened as they spoke of bloodlines and inheritance, of centuries-old customs and unbroken royal chains..

They never said it outright.

But I heard it all the same.

That I was not meant to sit here.
That this title—this throne—belonged to someone else.

And no matter how firmly I wore the crown… the past still lingered in every doubt they voiced.

I straightened in my seat, letting the weight of their doubts pass without acknowledgment.

“Let us move on for now,” I said calmly. “The charity event in Hadenburgh.”

The council exchanged glances.

“I intend to attend,” I continued. “In person.”

A murmur rippled through the hall.

“Your Majesty, Hadenburgh has yet to fully pledge its allegiance,” one councilor warned. “Your presence there could pose a risk.”

Another leaned forward. “At the very least, we advise announcing your arrival in advance. Security—”

“No,” I interrupted, gently but firmly. “My presence is to remain unknown until the last moment.”

That earned me their full attention.

“Your Majesty,” someone said carefully, “with all due respect, that city does not yet trust the crown.”

I met his gaze. “Which is precisely why I must go.”

Silence followed.

“A ruler cannot rule from behind palace walls alone,” I said, my voice steady. “There are moments when she must walk among her people—let them see her, hear her, know that she stands with them.”

I paused, then added quietly, “Trust is not demanded. It is earned.”

No one spoke after that.

And for the first time that morning, the room listened.

The meeting ended soon after. I returned to my chambers, the echoes of the court still lingering in my ears.

As I adjusted the fabric at my collar, something slipped free.

The butterfly pendant.

I caught it instinctively, fingers closing around the familiar shape as my breath caught. I drew in a slow breath, steadying myself, the cool metal grounding me.

My gaze drifted to the tall windows overlooking the palace grounds.

“Would you have been a better king…?” I whispered.

The name followed, barely more than a breath.

“Matthew…“

The city stretched endlessly beyond the glass—alive, hopeful, uncertain.

—–

Years ago…

Way back then, before the crown ever touched my head, I was merely a lady.

The daughter of Duke Christian. One of many nobles who filled the palace halls under King Arthur III’s reign.

As always, I followed my father through the palace that morning, my steps quickening the moment he disappeared into the Royal Court chamber. Mondays meant geography lessons—lessons the Crown Prince insisted on holding by the library.

And I knew exactly where that led.

I slipped through the familiar corridors, barely slowing as I reached the study room.

“Your High—” I stopped short.

The prince was asleep.

A smile tugged at my lips as I took in the sight of him—posture perfectly straight, a book resting loosely in his hand, chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. Anyone else might’ve believed he was studying.

I knew better.

Carefully, quietly, I dragged a chair from the far side of the room and placed it beside his table. I sat, resting my chin against my palm before I could stop myself.

I’d always found it fascinating—how someone so powerful could have such delicate features. Soft hair falling freely, lashes too long for a man, rosy lips that looks so soft—

“You might as well take me home if you plan on staring all day, my lady.”

I jolted upright.

“Y-you’re awake?” I blurted out.

He smiled, eyes still half-lidded. “You have a very distinct scent, Lena,” he said lightly. “I’d recognize you even in my sleep.”

Before I could even respond, he crossed his arms, trying to look offended. “Sneaking into a private vicinity within the royal palace. That’s hardly proper behavior for a lady.”

“And falling asleep during lessons is?” I countered, opening my eyes widely.

“I never said that,” he replied.

He glanced down at the book in his hand, then sighed. “Geography is dreadfully unromantic, don’t you think?”

I raised a brow. “You say that as if you know what romance is.”

He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting toward the tall windows. “I know what freedom looks like.”

Something in his voice made my smile falter.

I quickly recovered. “Freedom is knowing which rivers border which kingdoms. You’d be lost without me.”

“That’s why I like having you around,” he said easily. “My personal compass.”

I felt warmth rise to my cheeks and turned away, pretending to study the map spread across the table. “You could at least try to pay attention today.”

“For you?” he said softly. “I suppose I could make the effort.”

The prince’s gaze suddenly sharpened, mischief lighting his eyes.

“I’ve just had a brilliant thought.”

I sighed before he could even continue. “No.”

“You haven’t heard it yet.”

“I don’t need to.” I sat firmly. “Whatever you’re thinking will end with you grounded, confined, or exiled to etiquette lessons for a month.”

He leaned forward anyway, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “What better way to learn geography than to see the world for itself?”

I stared at him, unimpressed. “Not again.”

“Just hear me out—”

“Matthew,” I hissed, glancing around the library, “your mother will actually kill you this time.”

He only laughed, light and unbothered, and before I could protest, his hands reached out and caught mine. Both of them. Warm. Steady.

“Pleaseeee, my lady?” he pleaded, pulling his most practiced, infuriatingly charming pout.

My heart betrayed me, skipping when it had no right to.

“Would you care to endeavour me with your amazing sense of direction,” he continued dramatically, “as we head out into the beautiful unknowns of the world?”

I rolled my eyes, trying—and failing—to pull my hands free. “You speak as if the palace gates don’t have guards. And consequences.”

“Details,” he waved off. “Minor ones.”

“You are impossible.”

“And yet,” he said softly, tightening his grip just a fraction, “you’re still here.”

I looked at our joined hands. Then at his hopeful smile.

“I’m not agreeing,” I said firmly.

His grin widened. “You didn’t say no.”

Eventually, Prince Matthew led me through one of our usual “escape routes.”

Yes, we had multiple. Being mischievous came naturally to him—and getting caught even more so. After enough times of being reprimanded, he’d learned to find new ways to slip out of the palace unnoticed. Today was no exception.

We were almost at the southeast gate when a shadow stretched across the path ahead. Matthew froze and pressed a finger to his lips.

“Hide,” he whispered, eyes scanning the area.

I barely had time to react before my instincts took over. The overgrown bushes at the corner became my sanctuary as I dove in, trying to make myself as small as possible.

Sigh, I thought, the things he can make me do…

From my hiding spot, I caught a glimpse of a patrol guard approaching, his boots crunching over the gravel.

“Is anyone there?” he called, voice echoing slightly against the palace walls.

I held my breath.

“Huh… must have been the wind,” he mumbled to himself.

The guard paused, glanced around, muttered something else under his breath, and moved on.

Relief hit me like a wave, sudden and overwhelming. My knees nearly gave way beneath me, but I held on to the branches, letting the panic die down.

I waited, counting each breath as if it could shield me from discovery. Only when silence fully returned did I shift, peeking through the leaves in search of Matthew—and nearly jumped out of my skin.

He was crouched right beside me.

Far closer than I’d expected.

A wide, infuriating grin stretched across his face, like we hadn’t just come seconds from being caught.

I scowled, pressing a hand to my chest, heart still racing. “You’re impossible,” I hissed under my breath.

“I’m starting to think,” he whispered, barely containing his amusement, “you’re getting way too good at this.”

I shot him a glare, though my pulse betrayed me, still high from the scare. “I’m not good. I’m careful. Unlike someone I know…”

He tilted his head, grin widening, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Careful, huh? Funny… I was going to say brave. Or reckless. Depends on how you look at it.”

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at my lips despite myself. “Brave. You mean foolish.”

“Perhaps,” he said softly, leaning just a fraction closer, “but at least we’re never bored.”