Cressida was still on the bed when Callidus quietly shut the metal door behind him. She was curled into a little ball, her arms tightly clutching the sheets against her chest, her back facing him.
When he saw her, the typical surge of affection flowed through him, yet this time it was accompanied by a sudden, profound feeling of sadness and anxiety.
"...Cressida." He murmured, "...are you still sleeping, love?"
He observed as her body tensed at the sound of his voice, the feeling of the air around her shallowly jolting into her lungs.
But she didn't respond.
After watching her for several more seconds, Callidus briefly scanned the room, noticing that she hadn't touched her food, though he was relieved to see she had drunk from the water pitcher he had left for her. He let out a sigh before deciding to continue into the room. If she wanted to pretend to be asleep, he'd respect her wish for now.
With quiet grace, Callidus made his way to the dressing area, where several wisps of wind obediently gathered his regalia and brought it to him. Standing behind the ornate divider, out of Cressida's sight, he began the process of undressing. The room came alive with the soft murmurs of wind as the clothing floated gracefully toward him.
His ensemble consisted of a maroon-black tunic, black trousers and a maroon sash adorned with intricate golden embroidery, representing the colors of Ashlar's royalty. The fabric was made of fine silk, light enough to keep him comfortable in the warm temperatures of the kingdom. Over the tunic, he donned a long, flowing black robe with golden trim, pinning it on one shoulder.
Adorning his neck was a golden livery collar, an emblem of his elevated rank and authority. His fingers bore elegant gold rings, each holding its own significance and history within the royal family. And atop his head, he wore a thick golden crown, the symbol of his status as the future king of Ashlar.
(The crown Ferox used to wear during banquets.)
The entire process took mere minutes as the wind swept effortlessly around him. He briefly recalled an argument with the marchioness about needing a Royal Dresser, but his swift display of manipulating the tablecloth had put a stop to that conversation. He wouldn't allow anyone to touch him.
(Except of course, for...)
Cressida was still huddled motionless on the bed as Callidus emerged from behind the divider, dressed imposingly in his royal regalia. With meticulous care, he adjusted every detail of his appearance in the vanity mirror, making sure everything was immaculate before finally turning to face her, though she kept her back turned to him.
Feeling another rush of emotion, Callidus approached her slowly and sat on the edge of the bed, his regalia flowing gracefully around him. He reached out and gently brushed a marigold strand away from her face, careful not to entangle his rings in her hair.
"Cressida," he whispered softly, his voice filled with concern and regret, "I know you're not asleep."
Cressida flinched slightly but she still didn't turn to face him. She clutched the sheets tighter, as if trying to shield herself from the outside world. Gently, he placed a hand on her back, trying to offer comfort in the only way he knew how. Her breathing was ragged, and he could see the tears glistening on her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," Callidus murmured, "for everything that happened last night. I never meant to upset you like this."
There was a moment of silence before Cressida's body tensed.
"You never mean to upset me," her voice emerged, quiet and rasped, "...but you always do," Her voice cracked at the end, and Callidus felt his heart splinter.
YOU ARE READING
Book Two: The Larkspur's Longing ~ A tale of deep obsession and devotion
Romance(Sequel to The Marigold's Larkspur) Crown Prince Callidus finds himself on the cusp of achieving his dreams. With Princess Cressida by his side, the woman he has long yearned for, their future seems promising. However, a formidable obstacle threaten...
