Heart Over Sword - Chapter 93

Evanna ended up staying in the prince’s room for the remainder of the late afternoon and evening. But she was so fatigued; her constant watching of the prince, who merely started reading his book in a separate chamber, made her relax more as tiredness washed over her. He never seemed to try and touch her and only engaged with her when she asked questions.

Evanna had tried sneaking away, but after opening one of the doors slightly and peeking outside, she nearly fell back from the two guards standing directly outside the double doors. There were more than just the two guards there though, Garrett had disappeared but left in his wake, around ten guards who stood as still as statues, their backs straight and stiff, and not once talking to each other.

How boring!

When Evanna retreated, she slowly stepped backwards, keeping her feet light on the ground.

“Going somewhere?”

She spun around and was faced with the prince who stood behind her with a raised brow. How did he get there without her senses alerting her to him? And how was he so quiet? Arawn was reading a book!

“No,” She mumbled and dropped her head.

After that, she sat in the same room he was in, looking anywhere but at him. It was an adjoining room that she missed the first time she crept into his chambers on the night of the heist. It was to the left of his room, which made Evanna relax more with how close her room was to his. The adjoining room acted as an extra space that she never knew was there.

Somehow, she never saw the golden archway the night she searched for the gem. But she did not wonder too much about it now, not after going to the apothecary and seeing the back door suddenly appear, it was highly likely that there was a spell in place then as well. When Evanna walked into the room the prince was in, she couldn’t help but notice it was the same size as his bed chamber and seemed to have everything he could ever need in it.

It was pretty homely, and she found herself more relaxed the moment feet stepped into the chamber. With its golden glow of the sun rays shining through, that when it darkened outside, it was left with magical floating lights glowing. Evanna presumed if the lights were out, she could look past the roofless ceiling and see the stars much better.

Unlike the architecture of the room being remarkable, the furniture on the ground was ordinary, luxurious, but ordinary, with the three light green sofas placed in front of a fireplace on the far side, closest to Evanna’s room. There were a few bookcases that she nonchalantly glided her hands across as she read the titles of the books the prince read.

His desk was also placed behind the sofa on the left. This was so anyone who accompanied him in the room was still involved in a conversation. However, these were his bed chamber and adjoined private chamber; Evanna did not imagine anyone else joining him in there unless his father and Garrett did? Or, a mistress? The thought made her heart pinch for a moment, but she dismissed the feeling, not thinking too much into it.

The sounds of a grandfather clock also ‘tick-tock’ near the desk. Which Evanna initially thought was made by a human. But on closer inspection, she saw the delicate carvings and designs only the elves could make.

Prince Arawn never commented on her nosiness when Evanna first entered the room, she awaited a reprimand from him, but it never came. He sporadically would watch her, his eyes light and unconcerned as she learnt a little bit more about him through the intimacy of his room.

A room that was both stylish, manly and elegant. There was a painting above the fireplace that Evanna sat staring at for a while in the comfortable silence. It was a painting of a young boy, his white hair pulled back into a short ponytail, wearing brown and green hunting clothes as he crouched and aimed his bow and arrow at a buck in the distance of the forest. The paintbrush marks were so delicately swept across that Evanna could see how much love was put into it.

Without glancing at Arawn, she already knew it was him in the painting. She only wondered who painted it when she asked, he merely glanced at her, and the friendliness she felt only moments before seemed to slip through her fingers. Arawn parted his lips as though he was going to tell her, but they snapped shut instantly, and his eyes hardened as he closed the book he had been reading on the sofa opposite to her. Uncrossing his ankle from his knee, he abruptly stood and dropped the book onto the cushioned surface before muttering about his duties.

Arawn moved from reading to writing at his desk. The sound of the quill scraping against the paper had a lulling effect mixing with the sounds of the fire flickering and the logs crackling as the wood broke. After some time, Evanna relaxed again, but this time, she leaned back into the couch, not keeping the usual stiff posture she had to stick to when in the presence of other royals. Her eyes snapped back to Arawn’s figure as he wrote aggressively onto the paper. She ended up watching him across from her, lost in a daze for quite some time.

But she was not admiring him; no, his scribbling and stern features made her think of her father. As a child, she was allowed to stay in his room as he completed his duties. Her father, the king, was a busy man, and she didn’t mind, even as a six-year-old to sit quietly while he worked. They were still spending time together in her eyes, and it was away from Isabel and the queen.

Occasionally as she grew older, her curiosity was piqued, and she would ask her father questions no ordinary child would ask. They were political, questioning the power between lands, the wars, how they helped the people of Dunhurst. Her father would look at her proudly, and at the same time, there was a sadness behind his eyes.

Only now that Evanna was older did she realise what he could have been thinking. She was his child, growing up and learning about the difficulties of the world, the politics, the hidden snakes and nobles that stabbed you in the back. But after living her years as the king and mistress’s child, she already learned how savage people could be.

Yet, she never let it turn her into someone cold; she refused to let ugly hearts, souls and actions of those around her affect her so. That would make her lower her standards to be like them. And she was not.