Prologue
Spring, eight years prior...
A breezy morning in the late months of spring found Sir Emerus Agriche entering the royal palace, per ritual, via the King’s personal invitation. Only this time, with a pair of haste footsteps scurrying behind him.
“Emerus, good to see you again” The King, still in his youthful 30s, raised from his office throne which Agriche could only imagine was worth at least half of his estate.
“Good to see you in good health, Your Majesty.” He replied with a respectful nod. “I have brought my daughter per your request. I trust she will be a good company to the young Prince.”
Moments later the roundest pair of shy eyes widened upon seeing the King himself, who looked upon the girl with a gentle gaze.
“This must be Anelise, I’ve heard great things about you.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. It’s the greatest pleasure making your acquaintance.” The small yet well-spoken child curtsied, a testament to the etiquette her mother had engrained in her.
“So young yet so intelligent. I am sure Elysander will have a lot to learn from her.”
“Not at all, she has yet much to learn. Qualities like those of His Highness are incomparable.” Agriche smiled in humility, which was reciprocated by a hearty laugh.
“Well then, let us get back to public affairs while the children get acquainted.” The King said, before signalling to the maiden. “Escort the child to the left wing garden.”
The young girl was forced to depart from the security of her father’s hold and follow the maiden timidly through the grand halls. She was entranced by the palace’s luxury, having been raised to appreciate the grandeur of the royal surroundings. Yet, it did not occur to her, the extent of the privilege to wander within its walls.
Upon stepping into the blossomed garden, she was met with the soft scent of roses, a mesmerising set of greenery, and a pair of similarly wide and curious eyes. The softest features imaginable formed a shy smile, inviting the girl closer. The boy was dressed smartly in a white embroidered summer shirt and royal scarlet shorts — a sharp contrast to his cold, water-coloured eyes.
So this was the prince, who contrary to what she learned, was not half as intimidating as imagined.
Prepared with memorised lines, she curtsied deeply, “Greetings, Your Royal Highness, it is with great pleasure that I make your acquaintance.”
“Elysander.”
Her eyes lifted in surprise at the boy before her, not knowing what custom to follow.
“Just Elysander, will do.” The boy continued with an earnest look on his face. A break from the incessant customs was all he needed. “And what is it they call you?”
“Anelise, Your Highness.” She spoke cautiously, for any mistake would be the source of great disappointment.
The boy tilted his head to the side, analysing Anelise carefully. The sight of the young lady amidst the roses intrigued him, yet he could not shake his reserved nature.
“You have a beautiful garden, Your Highness.”
“Is that so? I rarely come here...” His said disinterested, slightly disappointed in her persistent adherence to etiquette.
“What a waste” Anelise said without thinking before realisation hit. “I-I mean to say that it is such a shame, for its beauty is unrivalled—”
“And what about it is unrivalled?” Elysander raised an eyebrow in slight amusement.
“The roses.” Anelise spoke earnestly, as she approached the rosebush beside her. She was inexplicably drawn to roses, each one a work of art painted by nature’s hand. The sweet perfume tickled her senses, her fingers reaching out seemingly of their own accord and she gently caressed a velvety petal.
Upon remembering the presence of the prince behind her, she plucked a deep red rose from the bush, her fingers brushing againstthe thorns that protected its fragile beauty.The prick of a thorn went unnoticed as she presented it delicately to the young Prince.
Elysander looked at her in absolute astonishment and horror. Both. Simultaneously. The young child, holding out a rose, blood trickling from the thorn’s cruel prick, staining the pristine white of her dress. In that fleeting moment, a connection was forged, stronger and more profound than any words could convey. The brave and caring Anelise would prove to not be like any other courtiers who only sought his favour. Her recklessness piqued his interest, contrasting with the premeditated steps he was always expected to follow.
“You are quite the odd one, are you not?” He sighed in disbelief.
“If you don’t want it, just say so.” The young girl shook her head at his rudeness. In the process of retracting her hand, he took the rose promptly from her grip.
“I did not say that,” He said looking at the bloodstained rose. “I suppose this rose may suit me well.”
“You are very welcome—” She smiled, “—Elysander”
Over time, the two had gradually become quite fond of one another, confiding in each other their aspirations and worries.
But as the years passed, the conflict negotiations were finalised, and Agriche no longer had a reason to visit the palace. Instead, in recognition of his unwavering loyalty and efforts towards the Kingdom, was bestowed the title of Viscount. Alongside the title, came an estate located much further from the palace in a faraway county called Brittany. The previously fallen House of Agriche, was promptly gathered back up by the Crown itself. A favour that wove a subtle thread; one they could never forget.
To make things clear for our dear readers, as delightful as theirplay dateswere, beneath the regal veneer, the King’s intentions were not as shrouded in mystery as he would have hoped. His sole purpose — to coax the young prince out of his shell.
Elysander, a boy known for his guarded reserve, would be socialised discreetly, maintaining the King’s firm grip on his life whilst ensuring he remained within the protective confines of the palace walls. Indeed Anelise accomplished just that, though it was a fact Elysander would never acknowledge.
Anelise was only a tool. A pawn in a game she hadn’t even started.
That winter marked their last season together. Both children, cast away from public eye.
