CURSED

CHAPTER ELEVEN - ADRIAN

Adrian stirred awake, the blinding sunlight streaming through the tall windows landing squarely on his face. His eyes fluttered open, and a moment of confusion washed over him before the realization hit. He bolted upright in bed. His gaze snapping to the mantel, where the small brass clock sat. Shit. He cursed under his breath, throwing the covers off and scrambling to his feet. Rushing out of his chambers, he nearly collided with a servant carrying a tray of linens.

"Pardon!"

Guards cast him sidelong glances, but none dared question the prince's hurried appearance. When he reached the heavy wooden door of his father's office, he noticed it was slightly ajar. A small wave of relief washed over him—perhaps his father had not yet noticed his tardiness. He pushed the door open, bursting into the room.

There, behind the desk, his father sat, a soft smile on his face as he spoke with his mother, who was perched on his lap. They were deep in conversation, the intimacy between them palpable. At the sight of Adrian, Queen Vivienne rose swiftly from her husband's lap, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink.

"Adrian!" she greeted, smoothing the folds of her gown as she approached him with a gentle smile, "I was just on my way to your chambers. You've kept us waiting, darling."

His father, leaning back in his chair, chuckled softly. "Overslept, did we?"

Adrian rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise to his cheeks. "Seems I did," he muttered, trying to sound nonchalant despite the awkwardness of having interrupted his parents' moment.

His mother crossed the room with an air of casual elegance, placing a light hand on Adrian's arm. "Well, you're awake now, and I have plans for us." She beamed, her energy infectious. "I've arranged for a tailor to come today. We need to get you suited properly for the summit."

Adrian blinked, still half-waking from his late start. "Suits? Today?"

His mother nodded enthusiastically. "Of course! You can't show up in those old robes you keep wearing. And besides, your father could use a new one as well." She gave a playful glance back at her husband, who raised his hands in surrender.

"I suppose I'm in need of an upgrade," the king said with a grin, clearly indulging her excitement.

Adrian couldn't help but smile at their exchange, his earlier tension melting away. "I suppose I could use something that fits a bit better," he said with a smile.

Vivienne clapped her hands together. "Perfect! We'll go this afternoon. I've already sent word to the tailor, and I'm thinking something regal but understated, yes?" She was practically bouncing on her feet, her eyes gleaming with ideas.

Adrian, caught in his mother's vibrant energy, nodded. "Understated sounds fine."

"You two and your simplicity," she teased, looping her arm through Adrian's as she guided him toward the door. "Come, let's get you ready." Adrian chuckled, feeling lighter in his mother's presence as they left his father's study.

#

He stood still as the tailor tugged at his jacket's hem, his fingers working with care and precision. The fabric was rich and formal, its weight a reminder of the importance of the summit, but his attention was elsewhere. Across the room, his mother floated from one bolt of fabric to another, debating endlessly between colors and textures with an enthusiasm that filled the space.

Beside him, his father watched the scene unfold with a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He leaned closer to Adrian, his voice low. "I daresay we are no longer the purpose of this visit."