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Canillia walked into the room, immediately awestruck by the elegant decor of champagne-colored drapes and graceful furnishings. This was neither the princess’ bedroom nor a guest room.
“What is this place?”
“Your room.”
“My room?”
“Yes, I had this room designed specifically for you—a Palace bedroom you can use anytime you want. A place of your own.”
Lia couldn’t believe it. Rosina, proud of her gift to Lia, nodded to a servant and moved closer to her.
Having received the signal, the servant opened three closet doors revealing a complete wardrobe— everything from casual wear to formal wear—for a female. Nothing here for a male.
“It’s too much. I can’t accept this, Your Highness.”
Rosina’s lips curled softly at Lia’s refusal. She lowered her gaze, and pulled out clothing that brought out Lia’s emerald eyes.
“Well, then just think of it as a late birthday gift.”
“I don’t have a birthday.”
“As long as you were born into this world, you have a birthday. You can’t deny that. Honestly, Canillia, sometimes I wonder how you graduated from the Academy with honors.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Lia, please consider how I feel about giving you this gift.”
Rosina held a dark green dress against Lia.
Lia’s cheeks blushed, possibly because of the wine, possibly for some other reason.
“How happy I would be if you wore this dress tomorrow,” said Rosina, speaking more to herself than to Lia.
Lia pressed the back of one hand to her blushing cheek and said, “You can’t mean this.”
“I mean it.”
“Don’t be like this, Your Highness,” Lia said, her voice trembling.
Rosina handed the dress to a servant to return to the closet.
“So stubborn,” whispered Rosina. Her glare then changed to a smile. “But I’m glad you didn’t say no to this room.”
Rosina turned toward the exit.
As she left, Rosina muttered that someday Lia would accept all this clothing.
Lia bowed, showing respect to the Princess. Once alone, she stood in the middle of the silent bedroom.
Could I be seeing a mirage because I’m drunk from a glass of wine?
Lia smirked as she looked around the bright, warm room.
It was quite similar to the first night she was kidnapped and brought to the Marquis’ quarters in Cosoar, where she couldn’t utter a word as she took in the overwhelming opulence.
Here was a large, inviting bed and a view of the garden from the window.
She looked out, straining to see over the high castle wall to get a glimpse of the place where she had had her first kiss with him. The very spot where he grabbed her shoulders saying he didn’t care if she was a man or a beast.
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Whenever she came to the Palace, myriad thoughts swirled and tangled in her mind, eventually arriving at an image of Claude. Therefore, she didn’t like coming into the Palace.
But to have her own space now, was different.
The snow fell.
“I’ve brought you snacks, Sir.”
It was a servant’s voice that interrupted Lia’s reverie. The servant, dressed in red work clothes, brought a tray crammed with cheerfully-decorated cookies, small cakes topped with whipped cream and fruit, hot tea, and champagne. It was quite a lot for a light snack.
As soon as the servant left, Lia removed her clothes, donned a robe, and popped a dollop of whipped cream into her mouth.
It tasted as delicious as expected. Just what kind of secrets do the royal bakers have, that they could produce the perfect balance of sweetness and texture?
She drank some champagne, the bubbles tickling her tongue and the alcohol content relaxing her.
Wearing only the robe, she walked through the open archway that led to an opulent sink, a shower with a golden rope pull, and a bathtub that beckoned, as it was already filled with hot water.
Lia laughed out loud, reveling in the floral pattern of the entire room. Indeed, this was the perfect space just for Canillia.
A place where no one can intrude.
She could see why Rosina was excited to give her this gift.
Lia’s hands trembled a bit as she untied her hair and let it fall past her shoulders. Here, she could be a lady.
She let her robe slip to the floor.
The shadow of the falling snow dappled her body. Lia checked the water temperature and got in the tub.
It looked pure as if someone had put milk in it. She let out a hot sigh. The water relaxed her anxious body even more than the champagne had. To her surprise, flower petals floated in the water, giving off an alluring scent.
I like you.
A man?
You.
She was reminded of the confession.
I also like you.
Her response had taken all of her courage.
When she meets him tomorrow, what should she say?
Should she leisurely greet him? Or, should she admit that she has missed him?
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Would she face him or run away?
Tomorrow.
She couldn’t imagine it. After three years, everything felt so far away and long ago.
In three years, he may have changed as much as she has, so at the moment they meet, they might even freeze, unsure of who they both are.
But she missed him. She missed his voice, his embrace—even his glare and his severe tone. His everything.