𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐀

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 15

After 1 week~

In the delicate dance of love and courtly intrigue, Flora's heart remained a secret garden, its blooms unfurling in the shadowed corners of her soul. The palace walls whispered their tale—the stolen glances, the shared laughter, the way Prince Atlas's touch ignited constellations within her.

Yet, Flora was a master of concealment. She wore her emotions like a silken veil, allowing only glimpses of vulnerability. For love was a dangerous game, and she had learned to tread carefully. The court watched, hungry for scandal, while she and the prince wove their clandestine threads.

And now, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue upon the castle spires, Flora stood by her window. The sky stretched wide, a canvas of dreams and uncertainties. She wondered if love could truly bloom in such treacherous soil.

"Lady Flora," the servant's voice interrupted her reverie. "The Crown Prince of Hareum seeks you in the garden."

Her heart leaped. Prince Atlas awaited her—the man who had unraveled her defenses, who had whispered promises beneath moon-kissed branches. She smoothed her gown, her pulse fluttering like a trapped bird. Perhaps tonight, she would reveal her heart's secrets.

But fate, ever capricious, had other plans. As Flora stepped into the moonlit garden, Victoria—a viper in silk—materialized. Her grip on Flora's wrist was cruel, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Keep daydreaming," she hissed, "but know this: Prince Atlas will be mine, no matter the cost."

Flora's breath caught. Victoria's venom seeped into her veins, poisoning hope. She watched as Victoria glided toward the prince, her laughter echoing through the roses. The world tilted, and Flora retreated to her room, tears unshed.

From her window, Flora's gaze traced the moon-kissed contours of the palace gardens. Prince Atlas stood there—a constellation of longing and secrets. Her lips curved into a smile, but it faltered when she spotted Victoria, a viper in silk, gliding toward him. The thin line of Flora's mouth deepened into a sigh. Victoria was a tempest, and Flora had no patience for storms.

She shut the window, the glass muffling the world outside. The room felt smaller, suffocating. Ten minutes dragged like an eternity. Flora's heart raced; her fingers traced patterns on the bedspread. She was no stranger to courtly games, but this one—this dance of love and betrayal—was a labyrinth she hadn't anticipated.

Desperation clawed at her. She opened the window once more, hoping for a reprieve. But fate, cruel as ever, awaited her. There, beneath the moon's watchful eye, Prince Atlas, his lips claiming Victoria's. The kiss was a dagger to Flora's heart—a betrayal etched in starlight.

"Not yet,"she whispered, her voice swallowed by the night. "Our story is still being written."
Flora's heartache echoed through the room, each tear a testament to betrayal. The moon bore witness to her pain, casting shadows upon the walls. She had shut the window, locking out the world, but it couldn't keep out the ache.

And then, like a tempest, Prince Atlas burst into her sanctuary. His breaths were ragged, his eyes wide with panic. Flora's sobs caught in her throat as he closed the distance between them. "Please stay away," she whispered, her voice fragile as spun glass.

But he defied her plea. His hands cupped her tear-streaked cheeks, and Flora's resolve wavered. His touch was both fire and balm—a contradiction that left her trembling. "It's not what you think, love," he pleaded, his voice raw. "She kissed me."

Flora searched his eyes—the galaxies that had once held promises. "Victoria," she breathed. The name tasted bitter on her tongue. "Why?"

Prince Atlas's gaze never wavered. "She seeks power," he confessed. "A throne, a crown. But my heart belongs to you, Flora. Only you."

The room held its breath. Flora's anger warred with longing. "And the kiss?" she asked, her voice a blade.
"She kissed me without my permission but I pushed her but you closed your window before"
"Just please stay away from her," Flora's voice trembled, her tears staining the fabric of her gown. The room seemed to hold its breath, as if awaiting Prince Atlas's response.

He stepped closer, his arms enveloping her—a fortress against the storm. "Shh," he murmured, his lips brushing her temple. "I am yours, Flora. Only yours."

And in that fragile moment, love and betrayal hung in the air, a delicate balance. Flora clung to him, her heart seeking solace in the arms of a prince who had both wounded and healed her.

Prince Atlas, the enigmatic heir to the Hareum Kingdom's throne, had become Flora's shadow. His presence, both comforting and confounding, wrapped around her like the folds of a midnight cloak. The incident—the one that had bound their fates—had left an indelible mark on both their hearts.

Three days remained before Prince Atlas would whisk Flora away to the distant Hareum Kingdom. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, like the scent of rain before a storm. Flora's heart fluttered with equal parts excitement and trepidation. She wondered what awaited her beyond the borders of Ivor—a land of whispered secrets and hidden desires.

The queen, regal and wise, had taken Flora under her wing. They shared stolen moments in the palace gardens, where roses bloomed in riotous colors. The queen's laughter danced like sunlight on water, and Flora found solace in her company. Yet, beneath the veneer of courtly grace, Flora sensed a deeper current—a mystery that tugged at her soul.

It was on one such evening, as the sun dipped low, that Clara—the queen's loyal handmaiden—intercepted Flora. Clara's eyes darted nervously, and her fingers trembled as she pressed a sealed letter into Flora's hand. The parchment was worn, its edges frayed, as though it had journeyed through time itself.

Flora retreated to her chamber, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls. With trembling hands, she broke the seal and unfolded the letter. The ink was midnight black, stark against the pale paper. The words leaped out, etched in elegant script:

"Dearest Flora,

Your heart is not your own.

Tell Prince Atlas that you refuse his proposal, or your parents shall pay the price.

Choose wisely, for the shadows have eyes."

The room seemed to close in on her. Fear clawed at Flora's throat, and her breaths came in ragged gasps. Who was this stranger? What dark game was afoot? The threat hung over her like a sword poised to strike. She clutched the letter to her chest, tears blurring the words.

Outside, the moon peeked through the lattice window, casting a silver path across the floor. Flora's resolve hardened. She would protect her parents—even if it meant unraveling the very fabric of her destiny. But as she stepped into the moonlight, she vowed to uncover the truth behind the veiled threats.