[COMPLETE] ❝Seven princes stood before me. But which of them is the one I seek?❞
Briar Rosette, a curious girl of the 21st century, was somehow captivated by one of History's greatest mysteries. It was the tale between the Painter and the Musician...
I blankly stared at the ancient calendar hung in the corner and then at my reflection shown within the mirror, my chest bare of any birthmark or permanent wound. Eventually, my palm stroked it as if I unconsciously wanted reassurance that I haven’t gone through death for the past few days.
“Something will happen this month, the month of April. Whatever event happens would be responsible in urging me to trigger the upheaval.” I drew a heavy breath, one hand clutching strongly onto my skirt. “What could it possibly be?”
Prince Nathaniel James crossed his arms as he keenly observed me from the other side of the room. He was silent, letting my question drift into the midday air like how the sunbeams slipped through my bedroom window.
“Will I be able to avoid it? Or have I been paving the way for it to come for me all this time?”
“April, huh,” he hummed, leaning against the doorframe. “Uncle William was strangely born and died around the same day of April if my memory serves me right.”
I gave him a look. “What does Shakespeare have to do with this?”
“Just wanted to say that April is a peculiar month for peculiar people like you,” he rolled his shoulders aback, “and I agree with the latter of what you said. I believe everything that has happened so far could be the stepping stones to your fate.”
“Are you implying that my imminent death will remain unchanged? That I will still die during the night of the Revolution?” I slumped, losing hope.
The singing of birds was heard upon our silence.
“You won’t die.” He uttered with a low voice.
Slowly, he approached me and lightly placed his leather-bound journal on the top of my head.
“I won’t let you, Miss Stuttering Liar.”
This caused my lips to curve into a heartened smile.
“Thanks, Eavesdropping Spectacles.” I playfully tapped the bridge of his nose. “Where are your glasses by the way?”
He blushed and started coughing. “I simply broke them somehow. I will have them replaced soon.”
“You look hot without them.”
His coughs increased speed, informing me that perhaps he was choking for real now. I laughed, my body and mind at ease.
Once he finally knows that I was a spy, would he hate me?
Would everyone hate me?
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“Are you sure you want to carry that weapon around? I don’t even have mine whenever we visit downhill.” Prince Vante Osburne nudged me by the arm, already wearing his commoner clothes and the boots that matched my own.
