The Rose Princess

Four: Between Duty and Desire

The carriage rolled to a stop at the entrance of the Moorcrest castle, the wheels crunching softly on the gravel. Queen August emerged first, her presence a formidable force that seemed to still air around her. She carried herself with an authority that was both commanding and intimidating. Behind her, Princess Alda stepped gracefully onto the cobblestones, offering a warm smile to the footman who assisted her. The contrast between them was striking; where August's gaze could cut glass, Alda's was gentle and soothing, like a balm.

The King and Queen of Moorcrest awaited them. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Queen August, Princess Alda," King Remi greeted them with genuine warmth, bowing slightly as a gesture of respect.

"The pleasure is all mine, King Remi," August replied with a curt nod, her eyes narrowing as they fell upon Ceriva. "I wish I could say the same for my daughter," she added, her words laced with an edge that left no room for misunderstanding. "I received an unfortunate letter about my daughter's behavior. I apologize for any difficulties she has caused you." Ceriva flinched under her mother's scrutiny, her head bowing as though to avoid the weight of her gaze.

Remi caught the exchange, his brow furrowing in surprise. "Ceriva has been trying," he interjected, attempting to shield his wife from her mother's harsh judgment, despite Ceriva's harshness towards him. "She has had a long case of homesickness. It is a blessing that you arrived. Perhaps your presence will help her before the ball."

"Yes, it will," August agreed briskly. "But for now, we would like to rest. The journey has been tiring." She turned to Ceriva, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Take us to our chambers. We can discuss your plans for the ball later."

Ceriva nodded, a tight smile on her lips as she led them through the halls. Alda, slipped her hand into Ceriva’s, offering silent support as they walked. The tension between them was palpable, a silent storm gathering with each step.

As soon as they entered the privacy of the chambers, August's composure cracked. She rounded on Ceriva, her eyes aflame with anger. "What is this nonsense I hear about your behavior toward the king?"

"Mother," Ceriva began, her voice quavering. "I... I find myself ill-suited to him."

"Ill-suited?" August’s voice was sharp, incredulous. "You are his wife! The Queen of Moorcrest! Our kingdom’s survival depended on this union. Dozens of women could have taken your place. Do not make him regret choosing you."

Ceriva's shoulders sagged under the weight of her mother's words. "Yes, Mother."

August pressed on, her voice relentless. "It has been three months. Are you with child yet?"

Ceriva stumbled over her response, her hands twisting nervously. "I wasn't ready..."

August's eyes darkened, her disappointment palpable. "Is King Remi cruel to you? Does he hurt you?" She reached for Ceriva's arms, inspecting them for any signs of mistreatment. Finding none, she exhaled sharply, her frustration simmering.

"I do not understand why you are cruel to someone who has accepted you so happily into his home. I see too much of myself in you," August muttered, pacing the room. "You had everything, Ceriva. You were set to marry Prince Edgar of Harrowburg, a man with no kindness in him." She stopped, fixing her daughter with a steely gaze. "Fix this, Ceriva. Fix it tonight, before it's too late."

Meanwhile, beyond the whispers and heated gossip that buzzed through the castle—much of it thanks to Elise—the day was remarkably cool. Lilia found solace in the rare moments of peace her day off afforded her. She strolled through the castle grounds, relishing the brief rest from her duties. Despite Queen August's arrival, she managed to enjoy her Sunday, having already tended to Ceriva's breakfast, cleaned her chambers, styled her hair, and soothed her anxious nerves.