Behind the Royal Mask

Bedroom and Caelon

Beatrice's nerves hummed with anticipation as she sat on the edge of the velvet armchair in Caelon's bedroom, her nightgown a shade of ivory that caught low glow of the room's single candle. Tonight, she would need to play her part carefully, coaxing Caelon to reveal the secrets Alaric needed to know.

She glanced at the bottle of wine sitting on the table, which she had laced with intoxicants. The door creaked open, and Beatrice's gaze flicked up to meet Caelon's. His eyes widened, and for a brief moment, he looked genuinely surprised—and suspicious.

"Lady Anya?" Caelon said, closing the door behind him. His eyes quickly shifted from surprise to something more pleased, as he took in her appearance. "To what do I owe this... unexpected visit?"

Beatrice rose to her feet with a soft, alluring smile. She stepped closer, her fingers lightly touching his shoulder. "I realized... we haven't spent much time together," she murmured. "It seems a shame, doesn't it? I thought perhaps you'd like to know me better."

"Is that so?" Caelon's lips curved into an amused smirk. He took hold of the hand that was touching his shoulder and placed a kiss on it. "I wouldn't disagree with that, but I didn't know you would be this... forward."

"We are going to be married in a few days, aren't we?" Beatrice said, tilting her head. "Why should I hesitate?"

She threw her arms around him, keeping them on his shoulders and leaned in slightly. "It feels like fate... being betrothed to you. And there is so much that I want to know of you."

"We have a whole night to know each other," Caelon said, his eyes gleaming with interest. He allowed her to guide him to the couch, where he settled beside her. Beatrice poured him a glass of wine, her movements slow as she handed it to him with a gentle smile. He took it with a smirk, his eyes barely leaving her.

He pulled her towards him, balancing the glass in one hand, her head hitting his shoulder gently. She waited until his glass was empty and poured him another one.

She glanced up at him, seeing his eyes slightly turn disoriented before tracing a pattern on his shoulder with her fingertips. "You know, Caelon," she began in a soft tone, "I've seen Alaric's rule... and I don't know if he quite understands what this kingdom needs. At least, not the way you do."

Caelon blinked, his expression clouded with a mix of curiosity and suspicion at the mention of Alaric. He took another gulp of his wine, visibly intrigued. "What do you mean?"

Beatrice glanced down, feigning a conflicted look. "I'm not sure I should say... he is your cousin, after all."

"Go on," Caelon coaxed, a smirk forming on his lips. "I won't mind hearing it."

With a sigh, Beatrice lifted her gaze, feigning hesitation. "I just... worry, that's all. It seems he's making it harder for the nobles, with his constant reforms. You know what they say in the court... that he doesn't quite appreciate their value, their contribution to the kingdom's prosperity."

She paused to pour him another glass, which he accepted eagerly. "Sometimes, I think this kingdom would thrive under someone with a firmer hand, someone who truly understands the nobles' importance. Someone like you."

He leaned towards her in a tipsy confidence. "It seems like we think alike, Lady Anya."

"So you think that Alaric isn't the right ruler as well?" She asked, looking into his eyes with an innocent curiosity.

Caelon threw back his head, deep in though. Taking another sip, he said, "I wasn't going to share this with you but I feel that you'll understand what I'm going to say."