We strolled the grand halls of the castle, with wide windows letting in swaths of sunlight, leading outwards to a grand view of the outer gates and the city below. Ours was a fairly wealthy kingdom, and it showed not only in the palace decor but in the surrounding city. We walked in silence for a few moments as Roland led me down the hall.

"Here we are, in the East Wing of the palace, which sits the throne room," He said, gesturing behind us to the grand door. "And further down this hall, filled with portraits of our Royal Lineage, we have the entrance to the Great Hall where we receive guests, and where we host balls and banquets for the vassals," Rowan said, walking with ease. He took on the tone of a tour guide, speaking in a factual, monotone voice and barely looking down to meet me in the eyes.

He continued in this bare, monotone voice, but I only half listened. As we walked, he talked of the staff and their quarters, and the guest quarters, and I didn't say a single word besides yes, and no. The whole time I was thinking about what I should say, what the perfect thing would be to strike up a conversation with him. I pondered this for a while, as he led me down the West Wing which housed a grand courtyard for meetings and guest rooms.

Finally, I stopped, cutting him off mid-sentence of a tour guide-esque ramble.

"Roland, do you hate me?" I asked simply, pausing and looking up at him.

He paused, as if completely frozen and unsure of what to say at my blunt question. It seemed to stump him for a moment before he regained composure, and shook his head, a bid sadly, "No Rosaria. I do not hate you."

"Then..." I looked down at the cobblestone pathway, "What do you think of me?"

There was a long, drawn out silence as Roland searched for words. He obviously hadn't expected this question. A cool breeze wafted through the corridor, blowing my blonde hair up into my face, and I reached to brush it back. "I think," Roland began, choosing his words very carefully, "That you are a very complex woman."

"So you believe the rumors about me?" I asked pointedly.

He looked above me at a corner of the courtyard, as if studying something. "That I do not know yet." He answered honestly.

I sighed, intertwining my fingers before pulling them apart. "Roland... you know I truly didn't mean to spill that wine on Katia. I think she's an amazingly kind girl, and believe me when I say I bear no ill will against her." I began, my words rambling together as I spoke, "I just... wasn't paying attention to where I was going—"

"It's alright, Rosaria," Roland brushed me off with ease, waving a hand. "Besides, what business would a Prince like me have getting upset over a Baron's daughter getting wine spilt on her dress?" He shook his head, seemingly nonchalant, but as I looked into his eyes I could see a flicker of uncertainty, and perhaps longing.

"You... like her, don't you?" I said in a teasing manner.

Roland's ears turned bright red, but he expertly kept his calm demeanor. "You are my fiance," He said simply, brushing off the question again. "I have no business in having affections for another woman." This time, I could definitely see the sadness and desperation in his eyes.

I raised an eyebrow, grinning now that I'd found some footing. "That wasn't a no."

He didn't answer me. Instead he turned, leading me through the courtyard. "As I was saying, Rosaria, this courtyard hosts many important guests, from ambassadors from other nations to Vassals for meetings. It was actually constructed by..." As he continued his monotone talk, I realized something I already knew—Roland didn't offer his thoughts freely—you had to pry them out of him. Lucky for me, I knew exactly how to do that.

There was a group of nobles I didn't recognize congregated in the courtyard, talking over shared drinks, and clearly gossipping. As we passed by them, I couldn't help but overhear their conversation. "...he was killed in the conflict."

"Who?"

"Sir Godfrey Lionheart, were you even listening to me?"

I paused. I'd been listening absent-mindedly as we walked to avoid Roland's monotone explanation of the number of bricks in the West Wing, but that name piqued my interest. I definitely knew it from somewhere. But... where?

"It's a shame. We've lost one of our continent's greatest heroes. Those Ceredulian's are such fools." The other noble let out an audible sigh. That's it... Sir Lionheart! He was a direct descendant of Grace, the hero who had pushed the dragons and other beasts back into the territory known as the Wildlands and sealed them there. He hailed from the kingdom of Ceredulia and worked to slay dangerous beasts and those that threatened the continent. After his death due to the civil war that decimated Ceredulia, the continent was thrown into a twenty-year stint with no hero to save them from. The perfect time for the Shadow-Walkers to strike.

"We'll never allow such a thing to happen in our Kingdom," the other noble said haughtily, and I could imagine her turning her nose up. If only you knew... I thought sadly. I leaned in a little closer to them, hardly listening to Roland now. He seemed to pick up my disinterest, and caught the nobles talking out of the corner of his eye. They continued rambling.

"Even so, that serpent Rosaria, daughter of Duke Leeland, has just been announced as the new Crown Princess. If that doesn't cause our Kingdom to go to ruin—"

"Can I help you?" Rowan butt into their conversation, stepping out into the full light of the courtyard. I followed him slowly, gazing at the faces of the three people I didn't recognize.

"Y-you're highness, I—" They stuttered over their words, completely flabbergasted at the fact that the very person they had been about to seriously slander had appeared.

"I would suggest you watch your surroundings in the future," Roland said slowly, "And be very careful about those you choose to gossip about."

The nobles shook their heads vigorously, still bowing, until Roland waved his hand and they eased their posture. With that, we turned away and continued our tour, and I stole a glance at them from the corner of my eye.

"Thank you..." I said slowly. Part of me wished he would have let the conversation continue, so I could have heard just what the nobles thought of Rosaria, but was also pleased that he was willing to step in.

Roland shook his head. "Your reputation is my reputation."

Another gust of wind stirred the air, and I rubbed at my arms despite the warmth of the sun. Roland noticed, and after a brief pause, he unfastened the clasp of his outer cloak and draped it over my shoulders without a  word.

"You should speak with Chancellor Veltin soon," he said as we continued walking, just nearing the gardens. "He has expressed his interest in meeting you, and I suspect he has some ground rules as well."

I froze, turning stiff, and recalling Chancellor Veltin's beady eyes staring into me. If I wasn't supposed to know him yet, why did it feel like he knew me? I shook off the eerie feeling, but my entire body was protesting at the thought of meeting the slimy, vile man. I didn't think I was ready for that yet.

"Something wrong?" Roland asked, noticing my shift in demeanor.

I shook my head. "Ah, n-nothings wrong. It's just..." I paused, searching for words. But after knowing Roland for two days, there was no chance of me convincing him that the man he viewed as 'family' was secretly a traitor. "He gives me a... weird feeling." I finished.

Roland pondered this slowly. "Well, he does have that effect on people," he had simply, as if it was something he'd never thought about before. Indeed, Chancellor Veltins rat-like appearance did little to ease his first impressions. "Now here we are, nearing the gardens. They were planted by the very first Queen, and were maintained by my mother until she passed. Now, the Head Maid of the household manages it," He said, but there was no emotion in his voice.

A pang of sadness flickered in my gut. The Queen had died in childbirth, and Roland was raised by a nanny his whole life while his father was busy managing a Kingdom. He grew up completely aware of his responsibilities as the next King, and that required little emotional attachment. But that's something he can't quite give up, no matter how hard he tries, I recalled his kindness of placing the cloak on my shoulders. Beneath that stoic exterior was a deeply kind and emotional soul.

"It's beautiful," I stared at the breathtaking garden, with neatly trimmed white rose bushes and jaw-dropping floral arrangements. It would make the Duke's garden at home look like some old lady's backyard in comparison. There were also immensely detailed and ancient stone statues strewn about, with labeled plaques. Near the center was a beautiful white gazebo, surrounded by a mote with ducks swimming in the bond. Beautiful, I thought again, smiling.

"You know, has anyone ever told you that you walk very intimidating?" I said.

Once again, he looked confused. He checked his posture, as if trying to imagine himself, then gave me a blank stare. "I'm sorry...?"

I laughed, mimicking his stiff, stoic movements. "Like this!" I strutted forward, hands behind my back, playing all but the part of a princely-prince. "You know, I think you could benefit from loosening up a little. Try it!"

I was testing the waters with this, but I wanted to see how he'd react. He shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched. I caught it. I definitely caught it. Like I expected, he pretended to ignore and brush me off as we continued the tour, but I noticed he had begun to be more self-conscious about his posture as he walked. You're too gullible, I laughed.

You're not as unreadable as you think, you know," I went on, tucking my hands behind my back. "You try to act all diplomatic, but I know there's more to you than that. Like shielding a girl with a stained dress and escorting her out of the way, or giving your cloak to someone who's cold..." I recalled, smiling.

"That's just what's expected of me, I am a Prince, after all," he said slowly, his amber eyes shining in the sunlight.

"Mhm." I said.

The two of us walked quietly for a while, our footsteps muffled by the soft gravel lining the garden paths. The palace loomed in the distance behind us, but out here, surrounded by green hedges and late-blooming roses, it felt far away. Less pressure. Less watching eyes. We made our way through the winding paths, and I continued to marvel at the numerous floral arrangements. The garden seemed to stretch endlessly, and it was like our simple tour barely scratched the surface.

After a while of silence, Roland pointed to a nearby trellis covered in white climbing roses. "These were my mother's favorite. The gardeners keep them year-round." There was a softness in his voice I hadn't heard yet. It didn't match his usual measured tone—like he didn't mean to say it aloud. I glanced at him, but he kept walking, his gaze straight ahead.

"You like them too, don't you?" I asked quietly.

"They're peaceful," he said after a moment, looking at the elegant climbing roses. "Simple. They grow how they're meant to."

I tilted my head, watching him more than the blooms. "You talk like you envy them."

He didn't answer. Just looked at me with that calm, unreadable face—and for a second, I thought he might shut down again, and brush me off to continue the tour in a business-like way. But instead, to my surprise, he decided to give me an answer. "It's hard not to. They don't have to make choices. They don't carry titles. Or expectations.... they don't have to be anything more than what they just... are." his voice trailed off, "Some days, I wonder what that must feel like."

I blinked, caught off-guard by the honesty. "I guess I've... never thought about it that way before," I admitted. "But it would be nice just... being allowed to exist. No stage. No script." The flowers didn't have to worry about navigating the world and avoiding certain death and disaster. They just had to simply exist. Lucky them... I thought with a sigh.

Then, I looked up at Roland. "Don't you think the flowers might envy us, too?" The word came to me like an epiphany, and I smiled poetically, "I mean, what do they get? A few petals and some sunshine. But we get to experience things like chocolate cake, the wind in our hair when we run, and uncontrollable laughter with people we love. Only problem is we don't always stop to enjoy the experience."

Roland looked up at me, vexed. "I'd... never thought of it that way," He said quietly, pondering my flippant words a little too seriously.

"Besides, I think if I was a flower, I'd be pretty miserable. Too much sun, too many bugs," I shrugged, staring down at the white roses that climbed up the fence. Sure, it would be nice to be a flower—to avoid all of my responsibilities, and live without a care in the world. But I didn't know who I'd be if I didn't care about anything.

"I–I suppose so," Roland said. After a few moments of silence, we both broke out laughing. "Yes, I suppose you're right. It's a little silly to think about, isn't it?"

"Not really," I said. "After all, I think anybody has wished they were someone else at one point in their life. But I think what matters is what you do with what you're given." After all, I was living proof of that. I was given a second chance at life—thrown into what seemed like impossible circumstances. I didn't know where I'd be now if I didn't decide to try and fight tooth and nail to overcome them.

This sudden vulnerability between us seemed to be all it took to break the ice. His stoic exterior seemed to melt before my very eyes, and I saw him for what he truly was—not just a prince, but a man, and a man with dreams of his own that stretched far beyond ruling a Kingdom.

"Do you ever think about whether these paintings are less about preserving their legacy and more about how much fabric they could fit into one outfit?" Roland said humorously, a smile playing at his lips. He was more relaxed now, with his hands no longer clasped behind his back, and he walked with much more ease. We had made our way back to the long hallway leading to the throne room, filled with portraits of former kings.

I laughed. "Wow. Who knew Prince Roland had such a poetic streak?"

He gave a modest shrug, lips twitching in a half-smile. "Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold."

At this we both laughed, as we continued with friendly banter on our way back to the throne room to meet our fathers. Roland was a kind soul, just as kind as the man I had read about in the book. I couldn't describe the feeling I had at finally making a step towards friendship—it was like meeting your favorite celebrity, the person you thought you'd never meet, in person. Absolutely surreal, I thought, smiling.

Roland and I had a long road ahead of us, especially if I was going to break off the engagement and set him up with Katia. But this was a start to our relationship, and a very good one. Now if things continue this way, I won't have to worry about him beheading me... I thought, but still had an ominous feeling in my stomach.