𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐀

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 14

As Flora made her exit, she glimpsed Veronica's triumphant smirk. But she held her head high, knowing that within the castle's walls, love and art were her sanctuary-a canvas where even the most delicate strokes could defy the darkness.

As Flora departed, Veronica's gaze lingered on the queen, who was once again immersed in her painting. With a disdainful expression, Veronica couldn't help but voice her thoughts. "Do you truly believe this girl is a suitable match for Prince Atlas?" she scoffed. The queen met her eyes and offered a small, knowing smile. "Victoria may have lost, but sometimes, losing is the path to winning a prince's heart," she replied, her tone both gentle and resolute. "There's nothing we can do now. Prince Atlas never held any affection for her from the start." The queen's shrug conveyed a sense of acceptance, as if fate had already woven its threads, binding Flora and the prince in a mysterious tapestry of destiny.

Veronica's thoughts churned like a tempest within her. That mere village girl, Flora, had dared to entwine herself in the delicate threads of destiny, stealing Prince Atlas's attention away from Victoria. The audacity! Veronica's lips curved into a sly smirk, her mind already plotting a clandestine revenge. ("That villager,") she mused, ("shall learn the cost of meddling with fate.")

Meanwhile..

In the hallowed halls of the Ivor kingdom's royal library, The air was thick with the scent of ancient parchment, and the soft glow of chandeliers illuminated row upon row of leather-bound tomes. Clara, her guide, gestured toward the labyrinth of shelves and then bowed at her and went to the kitchen, Flora's eyes widened. Thousands of secrets lay within those pages, waiting to be discovered.

Her fingers trailed along the spines, seeking stories that would transport her beyond the castle walls. But fate had other plans. As if guided by destiny, her gaze alighted upon a book perched high on the top shelf-a tantalizing mystery just out of reach. She craned her neck, her fingertips grazing the edge, but it might as well have been a thousand feet above her.

Desperation surged within her. She longed to unravel the enigma hidden within those pages. Yet, there was no ladder, no way to ascend to the forbidden knowledge. For the first time in her life, Flora cursed her own stature. Why couldn't she be taller? Why couldn't she reach the stars?

And then, as if the universe conspired to answer her plea, a strong hand materialized beside her. Prince Atlas-the enigmatic heir to the throne-stood there, his eyes dancing with amusement. His presence sent shivers down her spine, and she forgot all about books and shelves. His lips curved into a knowing smirk, and Flora's breath hitched.

"Looking for something, My lady?" His voice was a velvet whisper, and she felt the weight of centuries in his gaze. The title of the elusive book remained unspoken, yet he seemed to understand her quest. His fingers closed around the spine, and he plucked it effortlessly from its lofty perch.

Flora's gasp was swallowed by the cavernous room. She turned to face him, her heart pounding. "How did you-"

He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to hers. "Some secrets," he murmured, "are meant to be shared."
His lips, warm from the stolen kiss, brushed against Flora's flushed cheeks. The air crackled with anticipation as he straightened, his eyes never leaving hers. Prince Atlas, the enigma she had both feared and desired, held her hand with a possessive tenderness. Together, they glided across the polished marble floor, weaving through the maze of ancient shelves.

At a secluded table, he guided her to sit on his lap-a throne of velvet and secrets. Flora's pulse raced; her breaths came in shallow gasps. His closeness was intoxicating, and she wondered if the library walls held their collective breath.

His head dipped, nestling into the curve of her neck. His breath stirred the tendrils of her hair, and she trembled. "Read loudly," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress against her skin. The words were both command and invitation, a dance of vulnerability and desire.

Flora's gaze fell upon the book he had retrieved-the one that had eluded her grasp. Its cover bore no title, only intricate patterns etched in gold. She opened it, her fingers trembling, and the first words leaped off the page:

_"Once upon a time, in a kingdom veiled by mist and moonlight..."_

The tale unfolded-a love story older than time itself. She read of star-crossed lovers, of promises whispered beneath ancient oaks, of sacrifices made for a love that defied fate. Each syllable resonated within her, binding her to the narrative, to the man who held her so tenderly.

Prince Atlas listened, his heartbeat echoing hers. His lips grazed her earlobe, and she faltered, but he steadied her. The library faded away, replaced by moonlit gardens and clandestine rendezvous. The words flowed, and Flora lost herself in the magic of storytelling.

As the final chapter approached, she dared to glance at him. His eyes held galaxies-secrets and longing. "And they lived happily ever after," she concluded, her voice trembling.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing her temple. "Not yet," he whispered. "Our story is just beginning."
"But, Your Highness," Flora's voice trembled, her eyes downcast. "Isn't it a shame for you? To wed a mere village girl like me?"

Prince Atlas leaned back, his gaze unwavering. The library's ancient walls seemed to hold their breath, as if awaiting his response. His fingers traced the delicate curve of her jaw, and Flora's heart fluttered like a trapped bird.

"Shame?"His voice was a low murmur, a secret shared between them. "No, my dear Flora. There is no shame in love."

He tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. They were pools of midnight, deep and inscrutable. "You are not merely a village girl," he said, his thumb brushing her lips. "You are the keeper of forgotten stories, the whisperer of winds, and the flame that dances in moonlit glades."

Flora's breath hitched. "But the courtiers-"

"The courtiers," he interrupted, "are bound by tradition and titles. They see only the surface-the lineage, the bloodlines. But I see beyond that. I see the fire in your eyes, the courage that led you here, to this very library."

His lips brushed her forehead, a benediction. "You are not a shame, Flora. You are my salvation."

She dared to look up, her heart pounding. "And what of the kingdom Hareum?" she whispered. "Will they accept me?"

Prince Atlas's smile was both tender and fierce. "The kingdom," he said, "will learn to love you as I do. For you are not just my bride-you are the missing piece of our fractured realm. With you, we shall weave a new tapestry, one that defies convention and sings of love unbound."

Flora's tears blurred her vision. She had found her place-in the arms of a prince who saw her worth, who cherished her scars and dreams alike. "And happily ever after?" she asked.

His kiss was a promise that day, sealing their fate. "Not yet,"* he murmured against her lips. "Our story is still being written, my love. And together, we shall pen a legend that echoes through time."

And so, in the quiet of the royal library, Flora surrendered to destiny. She was no longer a lost girl; she was a queen, bound to a prince, and their love would rewrite history itself.