Behind the Royal Mask

Meeting the Prince

In front of the doors that led to Prince Alaric's office, four knights stood on guard. Derin hadn't been permitted to follow her to the office so she was alone. She stepped near the doors wondering if she should knock or just step inside.

One of the knights said, "His Highness will join you shortly. He has asked you to go inside."

She nodded at him and he opened the doors for her. The room was spacious, with high ceilings adorned with woodwork and large windows that let in streams of warm sunlight. Rich tapestries depicting scenes of the kingdom hung on the walls, their colors deep and vibrant.

At the center of the room stood a grand mahogany desk. Piles of papers were stacked haphazardly, some leaning as if they might topple over at any moment. There were open scrolls filled with notes and maps and a quill at the edge of a parchment.

A large globe sat in one corner, a reminder of the realms beyond the palace walls, while a few personal items—a small portrait of Alaric with his mother and a decorative sword—added a touch of intimacy to the otherwise formal setting. As she took in the room, she didn't hear Alaric coming inside. 

"It isn't usually this messy," he said from behind her, causing her to turn around quickly. He held two mugs in his hands and walked up to his desk, placing them down amidst the disarray.

"I prefer coffee made by my own hands," he explained, gesturing toward the cups. "I made one for you too, if you drink coffee."

Alaric noticed the guarded look on her face. He picked up one of the mugs and motioned it toward her. She regarded it with a mix of doubt and curiosity before accepting it.

"Thank you, Your Highness," she said, her voice steady despite her nervousness.

For a moment, an expectant silence hung between them as Alaric watched her, his gaze flicking between the mug and her face. Understanding that he wanted her to taste, Beatrice lifted the cup to her lips and took a cautious sip.

The rich, warm aroma of the coffee enveloped her, its flavor surprising her. She could taste a hint of vanilla in it. It was just the right bit of sweet and strong.

Beatrice looked up from the mug to Alaric, who asked, "Well? How is it?"

"It's delicious," She replied, her previous caution disappearing.

Alaric leaned against the desk and with a pleased smile, said, "Glad you like it. Mother always says that I shouldn't add sugar in it. But it tastes so bitter without it, don't you think so?"

"I think a bit of sugar doesn't hurt, Your Highness," Beatrice said, weighing every word she spoke.

"Exactly," Alaric said, as if glad to find a person who shared similar tastes. Glancing at the messy desk, he added, "I hope you don't mind the mess. I have been too busy lately to tidy it up."

Beatrice glanced around the office again, looking at the scattered papers and spilled ink, "You do seem to be having a lot on your plate."

"That's right," Alaric said, "It does get hard when you are the Crown Prince. Anyways, I believe we have something to discuss, don't we? Why don't you take a seat?"

Beatrice's heart thumped as she kept down her mug on the desk and sat on one of the armchairs. Alaric himself went to sit behind the desk.

"Alright," Alaric said, leaning forward, his elbows on the desk, "Lady Anya... Or should I say Miss Beatrice?"

Beatrice glanced down and said quietly, "Just Beatrice would do, You Highness."

Alaric cocked his eyebrow in amusement. He didn't know that the woman who could shout at nobles could be so nervous and tense sitting in front of one.