Vivid | Lee Minho

•Scene 3•

That anxiety never left you for the duration of the week.

There was no use in lying to yourself about it—you were so worried it almost made you ill. Any commotion outside the palace had you starting, the first thought to cross your mind being whether Minho had finally returned.

You justified your concern as nothing more than guilt for having involved him in your troubles. It was the only sensible reason you could think of, and you refused to delve into other possibilities.

You were attempting to distract yourself by reading through ledgers in your temporary study when you caught the faintest noise outside the window. The thumping of hooves. Shouts from the entrance guards.

You were out of your seat before you could process what was happening, whirling toward the window to spot the unit of riders. Heart hammering, you knew without a doubt that it was him.

Finally.

You marched out of the study, making your way purposefully through your confused knights. They fell in stride behind you, but you could not care for their questions, you could not even hear them, mind only on the ever-stretching hallways of the palace.

You did not realize that you had begun running until your breath wheezed through your lips, its instability not unlike the chaos inside your head. You were unable to discern the state of the riders' well-being from the window. What if he had been injured? What if he was barely grasping the thread of life?

What would you do then?

The grand entrance swung open for you and you stood atop a sprawling flight of marble stairs, gaze instantly drawn to him as if by some unseen force. A step followed by two, and you were rushing down the stairs, skipping steps and wishing the ground were closer. How you did not trip and fall was a true wonder.

Minho's cape of imperial blue fluttered in the wind, graceful and proud as he dismounted from his steed. Even after a month of absence, he seemed brilliant to you, like a star plucked out of the canopy of night.

"Make way!" someone shouted as you wove through the crowd of weary travelers and busy staff. The disturbance caught his attention and he turned around, catching your gaze in a fleeting moment.

It was as though the world had stopped turning, and the two of you were caught in its trance.

Minho moved in your direction, but you reached out to him first, hands finding his and grasping them tightly. Gloved, yet their warmth was familiar and it caused a tingle to run along your skin.

His hands were intact. He missed none of his limbs.

The Prince had not targeted him after all.

Head bent under the tremendous weight of your relief, you brought his hands to your temple, breathlessly murmuring, "Thank goodness."

"Lady Y/n."

Minho's voice dragged you out of your thoughts and you snapped your head up to look at him. Fatigue had sullied his elegant features so slightly, but other than that, he seemed wholly fine.

His eyes twinkled with a curious fondness when he spoke, gentle, not at all teasing, "Had I known that you would welcome me so warmly, I would have hastened my return to you."

Your heart flipped weirdly, and you were suddenly aware of the tens of people around you, watching you. Embarrassment bloomed hot on your cheeks. It seemed that you had been too caught up in your concern.

"I-I was only..." whatever excuse you were trying to make trailed away when he turned his hand over and touched his lips to your knuckles. A movement so easy and tender you could have mistaken it for sincere emotion.