She wanted to hiss in frustration. The locked gate was so tantalisingly close, but she couldn't go there now. She stared longingly across the track, wondering if there would come a time she could slip away, underneath the moonlight, finding her freedom through the trees…
"What are you looking at?" the prince's voice cut through her thoughts. She glanced at him, reluctantly tearing her gaze away from the royal forest beyond. Romeo was sitting next to her, a teacup held elegantly in his hand, legs crossed, gaze fixed intently upon her. He was the very picture of idyllic grace and charm, right down to the slightly raised eyebrow and the gentle curve of his lips. "You've been distracted the entire time. I must be getting better at reading your expressions," he mused, sipping from his teacup. She chose not to respond.
He had kept to the promise he made that night. Prince Romeo was spending unnatural amounts of time with her nowadays, which greatly hindered her ability to explore and make plans for escape. She hadn't been able to visit the old wing, nor did she dare to approach the gates in broad daylight. At night, she knew that the prince only fell asleep after she did – she knew, because she could hear his breathing and sense the tension in his shoulders, and it was obvious that he was waiting for something. Probably waiting for her to get up and slip away from the room. Did he suspect that she was up to something? That was the only explanation she could think of. She shouldn't have gotten caught walking with the captain the other time…
Of course, everything had been going too smoothly. She didn't know what to do now – just wait and bide her time, or try to set her plan in motion despite not knowing enough about her circumstances. That trip to the barracks had been helpful in providing her with some information, but she didn't know how to make use of everything that she learnt. The more experienced guards were the ones who watched the forest at night, which wouldn't help her case in the slightest. And she still had no idea roughly how many guards there would be situated throughout the forest. It must surely be possible to avoid them, but would she be that fortunate?
And she still needed money. The only way she could raise the funds necessary for her to travel was if she pawned off her engagement ring, but she also knew that meant she'd have to go into town, to the marketplace. It was too far away for her to go there on foot – assuming that she left in the dead of night, she'd only have a few more hours until daybreak, before the prince woke up and realised that she was missing. In those precious few hours, she'd have to get as far away as possible, meaning she would have to leave on a horse if she wanted to escape successfully. But she hated horses. There was no way she'd be able to run far enough to avoid getting caught.
The only way she could see this working out was if she managed to get to at least the noble townhouses. She wasn't sure if the forest would have a path leading back down the hill, but she could only hope. Miku had not yet seen enough of the forest to determine if she could escape through there – she had only been there once after all, with the prince – but it was the best option she had at the moment. And she was quite sure that, should she manage to make it all the way to the noble townhouses, she could seek refuge in Lord Shion's manor. If he still had feelings for her, then she didn't think it'd be too difficult to spin some sob story about how she had to escape from the prince, who was nothing like she thought him to be…
Yes, that sounded like a plan. Now she just had to put that plan into action. "Cinderella?" the prince's voice prompted her again. She blinked, shaking her head slightly – she had been so lost in her thoughts that she forgot she was sitting with him. The prince was staring at her now, something almost like concern in his blue eyes. "You didn't respond when I called you just now. Clearly, you're thinking of something important. What could it possibly be?"
"No, it's nothing of importance," she lied. "I was just thinking about my parents. Especially my mother," she paused. The weather today was nice and pleasantly warm. Though she and Prince Romeo were seated underneath the shade, she could still sense the warmth of the sun against her fair skin. It was very strange, but still nice, to feel the sunlight. Back when she was locked up in the mansion, feeling the sunlight directly on her skin was a privilege that her stepsisters often withheld from her. "She would have liked to be here now. My parents used to enjoy going on picnics when I was a child," she added, her voice sounding wistful.
Len nodded, pretending to take another sip from his cup, but in reality, he was trying his best not to keep staring at his fiancée. She was hardly paying him any attention, her mind clearly taken up by other thoughts, and that left his own mind free to wander. It was ridiculous for him to be so obsessed, but he couldn't help thinking about how beautiful his fiancée was. Cinderella was lovely when she wasn't a blazing spitfire, and her loveliness was becoming almost dangerous for his mental state. He detested his own weak will for being so easily swayed by mere appearances, but it had been a while since he last spent any length of time with someone of the opposite sex, and his male instincts were clearly responding.
Was it his fault that she looked particularly stunning when she chose to tie her hair up in a mere bun? Was it his fault that she was shockingly beautiful when wearing nothing but a plain, simple white dress? It was really nothing but a plain white dress, high-necked and long-sleeved, the most decent, modest dress he had ever seen. But she glowed in it – the pure whiteness of the dress contrasted against her bright green eyes and her silky teal hair. He could see every single feature of her face, the long eyelashes which lowered ever so sensuously whenever she closed her eyes, the loose tendrils of hair which framed her slim face, beckoning to him.
He could close his eyes and pretend she was someone else. He could reach out, persuading himself it was all a dream, a mere illusion, and sweep those tendrils of hair away from her face, away from the large eyes that could burn as hot as flame, or be sweet and limpid like the eyes of a doe…he could tell himself that those eyes were blue and her hair was golden blonde, but when he awakened from his dream it wouldn't be her. It would be Cinderella, who was – like he reminded himself time and time again – nothing like Kagamine Rin.
It was the first time in a few years since he thought that name to himself. He usually didn't even think of her name, since the very sound of it brought pain to his heart. For the first few months after his attempted suicide, he tried to pretend that she wasn't dead, because if she didn't exist, he didn't exist either. But he couldn't lie to himself. He wouldn't be trapped in this palace, in this role as Prince of Ossyria, if she hadn't died. If she were still alive, he would be by her side. There was no doubt whatsoever about that. But slowly, he had learnt to live with the pain. And slowly, he was beginning to remember the sound of her name.
"We can go on picnics too, if you want. And you can always invite your parents here to the palace. You're my fiancée – my home is yours," he told her, and he was surprised to find that he was sincere about it. If she wanted to go on a picnic, he'd accompany her. Partially since it was part of his duty as her husband-to-be, and because he needed to fulfil his promise to his adoptive father – but also because he genuinely enjoyed her company. She was a difficult maiden, full of secrets and hidden thoughts, but when she talked to him…
It was becoming a personal challenge, getting her to open up to him. In the beginning, he only cared since he promised his father he would get to the bottom of this, but sometimes at night when he talked to her, when it felt like he managed to find out more about her – either through the things she outright told him, or the things he guessed from their night-time conversations – he couldn't deny a feeling of immense satisfaction. It was certainly very rewarding to find his efforts paying off. He told himself that he enjoyed it because he had promised the king, and not because he personally wanted to find out more about her…
Cinderella shook her head. "My parents won't come," she answered, her voice still wistful. "It is too far away for them to visit often. I came to Ossyria knowing that it was unlikely I'd see my parents again," she sighed, picking up her teacup. She had yet to drink her tea, and the liquid had turned cool quite some time ago. He stopped her, his hand reaching out to prevent her from lifting the cup to her lips. She stared quizzically at him, perhaps the first time during this entire conversation where she actually paid him any attention. Len beckoned to Gumo, who was waiting quietly behind them, and the butler approached, wordlessly lifting Cinderella's teacup and replacing the liquid inside with fresh, aromatic tea from the pot.
"Thank you," Cinderella's voice was quiet. Len couldn't be sure if she was thanking him or Gumo. Possibly both of them? Though he would rather not assume he was being thanked, since Cinderella still seemed rather antagonistic towards him. Today was one of her milder days however, and that was most likely because she was still thinking about whatever was on her mind. Len sometimes wished he was capable of peering into her brain and reading her thoughts. He was certain that whatever she thought about would be fascinating – and even if it wasn't, it would be a welcome respite from the memories his own mind constantly dredged up. It had been three years, but the raw pain of his past never left him alone.
"Then why did you come to Ossyria, if you knew you would be separated from your family?" Len asked, swapping his teacup for some biscuits. He was feeling a little hungry. Cinderella glanced at him again, green eyes considering – her teal hair still framed her face softly, and it made her look so…gentle. He was struck by a sudden urge to reach out and brush the back of his hand against her cheek. He still remembered the feeling of her fingers against his skin. She was so soft. It had to be a sin, for someone to be as soft as Cinderella. Or maybe he had gone for so long without a girl's touch that her mere presence was twisting his thoughts.
"It was so I could find a better life," she answered, gaze leaving him again. "I'm uncertain if I have said this before, but…my family in Veracent is not as well-off as the noble families in Ossyria. I had the upbringing of an aristocrat, but we would not be considered wealthy by Ossyrian standards. My parents wished for me to lead a fulfilled life and marry into a good family, which is why I was sent to live with my aunt, the Dowager Duchess Hatsune."
"No, you've not mentioned it before," he didn't know whether to believe her or not. She did admit that she had been brought up like an aristocrat, and her mannerisms supported that. What did not make sense was why her family would not be considered wealthy, if they were indeed noble – Veracent was not much poorer than Ossyria, though they were certainly resource-poor – and the aristocratic families of both nations were definitely almost on par with each other. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened to your family such that you would not be considered as wealthy as the rest? Your situation makes little sense to me."
Cinderella placed her cup down. Her green eyes were still looking away from him. He was tempted to reach out and touch her chin, turn her head around so she would be looking at him. "My family was involved in the textiles business. We imported silks and cloths from exotic locations and sold them for use in carpets and drapes. But then we went through a difficult time and in the end, our textiles business went bankrupt. We never lost our noble titles, but the family wealth suffered. I had to…I came here with the intention of restoring my family's reputation and fortune, or at least finding a way to do so. Which was why I had to marry a wealthy nobleman," she exhaled. "Do you think of me as materialistic now?"
"I wouldn't call you materialistic. Practical is a better choice of word," he clarified, watching her carefully, wondering if she would say anything more that would help him piece together all these different clues about her true identity. She smiled, but remained quiet. There was nothing but silence between them for a while, but it was surprisingly peaceful silence. It was almost nice, to sit there with her and enjoy the quiet and calm, but he couldn't just say nothing. "Do you not feel upset though, that you were essentially sold off by your parents in their bid to restore their coffers?" he tilted his head. The girl didn't respond immediately.
He did, however, observe her grip on the teacup tightening ever so slightly. Clearly, he had touched a nerve. "No, I do not feel upset," her response was careful, almost tense. It seemed like she was doing all she could to not flare up at him. He knew that his words had provoked her – which wasn't surprising, for the statement was rather challenging. "It is my duty to my parents and my noble family to do whatever I must to restore our former glory. If I do not do whatever it takes…my family's name will be dishonoured, besmirched by our creditors and those who cashed in on our misfortune. I will never allow that to happen."
"Such a strong sense of duty you have," he observed, a corner of his mouth tilting upwards. She shot him a steady stare, but said nothing else, perhaps wondering if he meant that as a compliment or a hidden insult. "I wish you would show only half that amount of devotion towards being my fiancée. You still seem displeased about being in the palace, you know. I remember the conversation we had the other night. Is it really just because you want to travel and explore the world?" he probed. That was something which had been nagging at him for a while. He couldn't shake off the feeling that Cinderella had something planned.
"You would not allow it even if I told you the truth," she shot back, her tone defensive. Her green eyes sparked with annoyance, and he could see it despite how much she struggled to keep it hidden. There was the faintest tint of pink to her cheeks, an obvious sign of her growing agitation. She looked irritated, but at the same time, she looked painfully alive. Len could only wish that his previous fiancée could look the same way. But wishes and empty hopes would lead him nowhere. On the other hand, Cinderella was seated right opposite him with fire in her eyes and her fair cheeks stained red. She was alive. And she was right here with him.
Cinderella would never replace Rin. Never, not in a thousand years. But she was the girl who was most alive now, the girl with the walls he absolutely had to tear down. And he would do whatever it took to make her open up to him. It was for both his father's sake and his own. If he continued living without finding out the truth about her, he would lose another reason to exist. For there was no denying it – solving the mystery that surrounded Cinderella had become another motivator, just one more excuse for him to struggle onwards in a miserable world without his beloved. "I didn't say you could not. I said we could talk about it another day, when it wasn't the middle of the night and we both wanted to sleep," he retorted.
"Oh, is that the case?" Cinderella's blazing green eyes were narrowed at him. Gumo looked between the two royals, clearly concerned about the situation – he would not interfere with their argument, but he would step in to defuse the tension if things got too heated. One of Gumo's unspoken duties was to ensure that Len never went too far. The prince sometimes did not realise that the words he spoke were hurtful, that in any situation, there was more than just his pride or feelings at stake. "It is not the first time we've mentioned the possibility of me leaving the palace. Always, you were very adamant that I could not travel anywhere."
"It's something we can discuss," he repeated stubbornly, though in his heart he knew she was right. He couldn't let her leave him. He was afraid that once she left, she would never come back. He was afraid that Cinderella would become another Rin – the last time he saw his beloved happy and alive was right before she went on her journey to other lands. The next time he saw her was in a wooden box. He never got to say a proper goodbye to her, and that was one of his biggest regrets. If she had not gone…if he had said no, if he had not given in to her charms and pleas, if he had just listened to his father and told her to stay…
"There is nothing to discuss," she said shortly, closing her eyes and sipping from her tea. The surface of the liquid was still steaming. "It's not something I wish to bring up again with you, Romeo. Quarrelling will get us nowhere, and I do not intend to argue with you. We both have better things to spend our time and energy on," she continued, her firm tone putting an end to the conversation. Or at least, that was what she tried to do. Len was having none of that – partially due to his pride, which demanded that he always have the last word.
"You already know why I don't want you to leave. I've stated the reason before," he stared at her, but she refused to meet his gaze. "I'm truly afraid that if you leave me, you'd never return. Why would you do that to me, given what you know of my past?" his voice softened slightly when he noticed her shoulders stiffening, her green gaze fixed on the forest that lay on the other side of the gate, some distance away. He didn't want to make her feel guilty, but he hoped that his raw emotions would reach her. It was truly all for her own good. Why wasn't that something she seemed capable of understanding? He would never do anything which would harm her. His feelings for her, their engagement, none of it may be genuine, but in truth he still cared. He wouldn't do anything to hurt her. As her fiancé, his duty was to protect her from any possible harm. Did she not trust that he only had her welfare in mind?
"I never said that I disagreed with you," she responded flatly. "I told you that I did not wish to continue this discussion. You're the one who insists on carrying on," she pointed out. He pursed his lips, but dropped the argument – the last thing he wanted was to annoy her even further. Though he couldn't deny that she looked particularly stunning when she was feeling particularly emotional…he wouldn't push her boundaries just for his own benefit, however. Irritating her would get them nowhere. Instead, he opted to take the higher ground and stay quiet, simply observing her. She refused to meet his gaze, and they spent the rest of their time in stubborn silence, neither party acknowledging the presence of the other. He did not say anything aloud after that point, but they both knew he was constantly watching her.
Miku couldn't help but wonder why he wouldn't stop looking at her. Was it because he had his suspicions about her intentions? Was he trying to figure out what her next move would be? But she need not have worried so much about the prince. What she did not know was that the prince had long let go of any rational thought, and he spent the rest of the time simply marvelling at her beauty. He wasn't sure if he had seen any other girl as lovely as Cinderella.
Even though his beloved was pretty as well, for some reason, he couldn't help but be awed by Cinderella. There was a certain allure to her that Rin did not possess. Was it because Rin was young, pure and innocent? But Cinderella was innocent as well…he knew, given the way she reacted when she first wore the skimpy nightdress Gumi chose for her. She was just as pure and innocent as Rin. But Cinderella had fiery green eyes and a stubborn pout – it was a dangerous combination that made her look unconsciously seductive, and he had to admit that part of this seductiveness was due to the simple fact that she didn't realise how much she affected him. And he dreaded the day when she finally realised her influence over him…
"Your Highness," he blinked, startled out of his musing. He saw Gumi standing there beside her brother, a sealed envelope in her hands. "A letter was delivered to the palace today, and it is addressed to you. Do you wish to open it now, or should I leave it in your room?"
He was aware of Cinderella's curious gaze, fixed so intently upon him. "Give it to me. Might as well read it now, since I have little else to do," he reached out a hand, and Gumi passed him a letter opener along with the envelope. He slid the blade through the flap, breaking the wax seal, and unfolded the paper inside. The cursive handwriting was unfamiliar. His eyes scanned through the contents of the letter, a frown unconsciously appearing on his face as he read. Gumi and Gumo retreated respectfully from him, awaiting further orders.
Miku wondered what was written on that letter. Perhaps it was another greeting from the Viscount of Lexane? After a while, the prince folded the paper up and slid it back inside the envelope, returning it to Gumi. "Leave it in my study. I'll write a response later," he told the head servant. Gumi nodded, bowing to him in farewell before she turned and went back to the palace. "Are you curious about the contents, Cinderella?" the prince added, noticing the way she continued to watch as Gumi's figure shrank into the distance. Miku hesitated.
It was nothing which involved her, she was certain. Or did it, actually? "It is not my business to interfere," she knew her words sounded cautious. "If you wanted me to know, or if it was something to do with me, you would have said so of your own accord. At least, I trust that you would," she added, staring down at her tea. Her cup was half-empty. How long had she been sitting out here with the prince? It must have been close to an hour by now. She was not sure, since there was no clock nearby and the sun seemed to have barely moved across the sky. Perhaps it had only been less than half an hour, but to her, it felt like half a day.
"Perhaps I would," he acknowledged, a small smile on his face. It looked almost like a smirk. "It was nothing of extreme importance. If it was I would not still be idling here, making small talk with you," he pointed out, and the smugness in his tone was so infuriating that she was tempted to retort. She didn't want to get into another pointless quarrel with him though, so she held her tongue. When he brought up the issue of her travelling just now, she had been very close to losing her temper; hence why she was so adamant about ending the discussion right there. She knew that nothing she said would change his mind, and even if he claimed that he was still open to options, she was aware he said this only for the sake of saying it.
"Are you implying that all our conversations amount to nothing more than small talk then?" she made sure that she said this in as even a tone as possible. She didn't want to sound too confrontational. The prince's eyes widened, and he shook his head slowly, leaning towards her over the table. Suddenly his hands seized hers, and she stiffened, unsure how to react.
"I would hate for you to think that of our conversations. Though I must admit…I do feel that way sometimes about how we dance around certain topics. Do you not think that we keep far too many secrets from each other? I genuinely wish we would be able to speak freely, the way a fiancé and fiancée ought to. But it's not something I can push towards alone," he told her earnestly, his blue eyes meeting hers. She was still unmoving, uncertain. What he was saying made sense, or at least it would in any other social situation, among any other couple. But they weren't like any other couple. They were not getting married for the sake of love – they weren't even marrying for any noticeable monetary or materialistic gain.
She agreed to his proposal to discover her freedom, and he wished to marry her for some mysterious, unfathomable reason he would probably never explain to her. "If you want us to talk freely, then tell me one thing – why did you propose to me that night at the ball?" the prince was still holding on to her hands, his gaze never leaving hers for a second. Those eyes were so blue that she thought she might one day drown in their depths. "All along, you admitted that you did not wish to take on a bride since you were not yet over your previous fiancée. So, what led to this change of mind? And why would you choose me, of all ladies?"
He was silent for a while. She wasn't sure if she could take her hands out of his grip, but his fingers were so tight around hers that she didn't want to try anyway. Gumo still had yet to interfere, but she could feel the butler studying them intently, trying to determine if they were reaching a point where he would have to step in. She had spent long enough around the butler to figure out what kind of duties Gumo had, and she noticed that the older man occasionally acted as Romeo's conscience, and often reminded the prince to eat. Romeo was the kind of person who would lose himself in his work, hours slipping past without him even realising. And ever since that day they visited Lord Shion's townhouse, she discovered a side to him that was unsettlingly cruel, even manipulative. It was good then, that Gumo was always around the prince, acting as a check so he would not go too far in his games.
Was this now a game? She didn't think his earnest words were even genuine. It just didn't seem to fit his character, or at least what she knew of him. He was thoughtful and cunning; every word designed to carefully probe and suggest. He definitely didn't fit the stereotype of pampered and naïve, which seemed to apply to so many other young noble sons. She suspected it was due to his role as the prince, and perhaps also because of whatever it was which happened to him in the past…she knew so little about him besides the fact that his fiancée and beloved died, and he was adopted by the king subsequently. She did suspect that he attempted to kill himself after his fiancée's death, given that Romeo was the name people gave him, but that had never been confirmed by the prince nor did she try to ask.
"Why you…?" he echoed, his blue eyes acquiring a distant look. He seemed contemplative. "That's a very good question. Would it be sufficient to tell you that it was because of your beauty?" he asked, tilting his head. He looked so serious that she couldn't be certain if he was speaking the truth or not. But this couldn't be it – no, that didn't make sense. He had been so certain that he wouldn't take another bride on the first night. Besides, she knew she was beautiful, but she was not the only attractive maiden attending the ball. If the prince was so easily swayed by mere appearances, then he would have found another girl ages ago. And she had been wearing a mask all three nights, so before he came to rescue her from the cellar, what did he know of her looks? Nothing, really. He had to be lying.
"What's the real reason? We both know your words are nothing more than sweet lies, so let's not play games with each other," she tried to remove her hands from his, but his grip tightened and she found that she was stuck. His expression was still deathly serious, and she was tempted to ask Gumo for assistance so she could leave this conversation and get back to doing as she pleased. But she would humour him for just a little while longer. He was the prince, and he was constantly busy – she had no doubt he would have to leave her to settle state affairs eventually. Truth be told, it was extremely rare to see him not doing work.
"And what do you want me to say?" he whispered, leaning towards her. His face was mere inches away from hers now, and her breath caught. Their lips were almost touching – if he leant in any closer… "Would you prefer a sweet lie? Or a bitter truth? Why would you suspect me of not telling the truth in the first place?" he added, a smile on his face. It didn't reach his eyes.
"I never forgot what you told me the first night of the ball," she told him. He didn't respond to that – either he had been expecting that answer, or he was a very good actor. "You told me you have yet to move on from your fiancée's death. Don't try to convince me that you changed your mind within just three short nights. Even a child would not fall for such a blatant exaggeration," there was slightly more defensiveness than she would like in her words.
"I wouldn't try to convince you of that," his smile never changed. "I respect your intellect far too much to do such a thing. But you still haven't made a decision – do you want the truth, or do you wish to believe a sweet, tender lie? Sometimes, it's better to continue existing under the shadow of a falsehood. Are you sure, Cinderella…sure you want the truth?"
She hesitated. His sly words were getting inside her head, making her question and doubt herself. Did she really want to know everything? The more she found out, the more she got herself embroiled in unnecessary politics. Did it matter anyway, the reason why the prince wanted to marry her? She had already decided that she would escape from the palace and seek her own adventures. Whatever he told her now wasn't going to affect her decision. But she couldn't help but want to find out his reasons…why did he choose her? Her plan, which had seemed so unrealistic, so uncertain, ended up working perfectly. How much of that was because of luck, and how much was due to other reasons? Why did Romeo choose her?
"Tell me the truth," she whispered, unable to continue looking into his eyes. His gaze was too piercing, too searching – she experienced an irrational fear, that if she continued staring into his eyes he would be able to read her thoughts and delve into the most private parts of herself. Of course, she knew that wasn't possible, but whispering this fact to herself didn't ease the chill which ran down her spine. The prince laughed, a quiet sound.
"I'm searching for something, and I hoped to find it through you," he answered simply. "I can assure you that what I just said is definitely the truth, but I will not provide any other details. Please don't ask me what I am searching for – we all have our own secrets, and I'd like to keep some of mine," he glanced down for a second, then pulled her hands closer to him, pressing his lips gently against her knuckles. Where his lips brushed, her skin tingled.
"I will not ask you what you're searching for. But I am rather curious, why do you think you can find this thing through me?" she asked, intrigued. She naturally had not expected him to say anything along the lines of love or emotions, but even so this was an interesting response. Was he searching for a distraction from his past? That was the only reason she could think of – why else would he want another fiancée if not to forget his memories?
One of his hands left hers, reaching up to touch her cheek. His skin was soft against hers. It felt almost natural, his palm cupping her face, and she was tempted to lean her cheek into his hand – but she told herself she couldn't, that this sense of comfort was a mere illusion caused by the physical closeness he forced upon her. It wasn't something she desired. It was just a natural reflex, and she knew she was at a stage where it had to stop. She moved away, turning her head, and the prince's hand remained where it was for just a second longer than what was necessary. "That's a secret too," he murmured, and there was a challenge in his gaze.
"You have so many secrets. And you expect me to tell you everything you wish to know, as and when you please?" she shook her head, incredulous. Romeo suddenly let go of her hands, and she hastily brought them back to her lap, away from the prince. He looked like he was pondering over her words, though she didn't know if he really cared what she thought of their situation. "If you tell me more about yourself, then I'll do likewise. Give and take – it's only polite," she added, wondering if he would agree to such an arrangement. She wouldn't tell him the truth, of course. And he probably had no way to verify what she said anyway.
"That sounds like a nice bargain. What kind of things do you wish to know?" he agreed to this surprisingly easily, which made her wary. It was likely that he would lie to her as well, or at least evade the questions she asked. He was good at twisting words and carefully crafting his responses. But she wasn't going to lose anything from talking to him – after all, there was nothing he could tell her now which she could foresee herself caring much about.
"Tell me more about your fiancée. About what sort of life you led before you were adopted by the king," she requested, having always been somewhat curious about his past. Once again, Romeo did not react – either a testament to his ability to foresee possibilities, or just how good he was as an actor. He did, however, stare at her – he wasn't just looking, he was studying her, and after a while that made her feel vaguely uncomfortable. She was about to prompt him to answer when he suddenly beckoned to Gumo. The butler approached them.
"I have work to do. The letter I need to respond to awaits me in my study, so for now, I'd like you to accompany Cinderella and ensure that she does not fall into melancholy," the prince ordered his butler, entirely disregarding her question. She frowned at him, irritated by how he was outright avoiding the topic, but he didn't even look at her, fussing around with his teacup and his coat sleeves. "You can take my place. For now, do enjoy yourselves, Gumo and Cinderella. I'll see you later when it is time for supper," he added, rising from his chair and moving over towards her. Cinderella was tempted to stand and depart as well.
The prince reached her side and, to her surprise, leant down to kiss her gently on the cheek. "I'll see you tonight," he whispered. "And no, before you accuse me of ignoring you, I will give you an answer. But first, allow me to gather my thoughts, and we'll see how much I tell you in the end. My fiancée is still a sensitive topic for me," something in his voice convinced her to look back up at him, and she saw grief hidden within those deep blue depths.
Cinderella almost felt bad. The mournfulness in his gaze appeared to be genuine, and she hadn't really meant to bring up the past if it still hurt him to think about it. But before she could apologise or retract her request, the prince turned and left, heading back towards the palace. She didn't feel guilty enough to chase after him, so she turned her attention back towards the table with the uneaten biscuits and the pot of tea, still waiting for someone to finish them. Gumo smiled at her, looking enviably peaceful and serene, and she picked up her biscuit, idly wondering if this meant she was free to roam the palace for now. Though having Gumo by her side would definitely restrain her somewhat, she still preferred his company to Romeo's.
"You and the prince certainly get along well," the butler commented as she nibbled on the biscuit, having somewhat lost her appetite. Not that she had been particularly hungry in the first place. "If anyone else had so bluntly asked the prince about his former fiancée, you could be quite certain he would be in a foul mood right now. But he does not treat you that way. You are special to him, you know – even if you do not wish to acknowledge that," he added.
Miku resisted the urge to snort. It would be impolite to do so. A snort would have perfectly summed up her feelings about what Gumo said, however. "You try too hard to see the good in everything, Gumo," she frowned, making it clear through her tone and manner that this was not something she wished to discuss any further. The butler did not say anything more, but that serene smile remained on his face, and Miku found herself wishing she could trust Romeo the same way his butler clearly did. Would believing him improve her life in the palace?