CHAPTER 210: EYES ON MINE

[Lavinia’s POV — Lily Boutique, continuation]

Ah... the taste of triumph. Sweet. Rich. Lingering on my tongue like the finest wine.

Eleania sat across from me, her noble mask freshly reapplied, yet I could still see the fissure beneath. Porcelain once cracked never regains its shine.

I leaned back, fingers drumming lazily on the armrest, letting my smile gleam like sunlight on sharpened steel.

"Mmm... what a blessing it must be, Lady Eleania, to witness such devotion firsthand. I can only hope," my gaze slid to her, lazy, deliberate, "that one day, you too will find a man willing to... overlook the world, simply for you."

Her knuckles twitched, whitening against her lap. Delicious.

"And..." my smile stretched wider, sharper, "I hope that man is someone who does not already belong to someone else."

She flinched. Oh, how she flinched.

I tilted my head, lashes lowering, voice dipping into something colder. "Because... if such a thing were to happen—if some so-called pitiful woman dared to set her eyes upon my man—" I let my gaze cut straight through her, icy and burning all at once, "—I might just pluck out those very eyes for daring to look where they do not belong."

The silence was exquisite.

Osric’s lips curved into a smile, amused, unbothered. Lady Sirella, poor girl, shifted nervously, her teacup rattling faintly against its saucer. And Eleania? Her eyes widened, though her spine fought to remain straight.

Then I softened. Warm. Almost merciful. I let the sweetness return to my tone, though the edge never dulled. "But what a relief. I have no such concerns. My father has always given me everything I desired, and I know he will continue to do so—his only wish being my happiness. He also taught me something invaluable: that one must always fight for what belongs to them. For if someone dares to reach filthy hands toward what is mine... " My smile deepened, radiant, untouchable. "...they shall regret it."

The air thickened. Even the attendants froze, swallowing hard as though they’d inhaled shards of glass.

Eleania finally spoke. Her lips curved back into that polished, poisonous smile, every syllable dripping with sugar-coated venom.

"Your Highness speaks with such passion... almost as if you are anxious. As though you fear your precious treasure might be stolen away." She tilted her head, her tone falsely innocent but her eyes gleaming sharply. "But perhaps... you should not underestimate the weak. For sometimes, the ones you dismiss are the very ones capable of toppling you. Crushing you. Reducing you to dust."

The boutique held its breath.

I stared at her. Blinked once. And then—

"Pfft—!" A laugh tore from me, bubbling bright and unstoppable. "Hahaha... hahahaha!"

Oh, this was rich. Did she truly...?

Adorable.

Utterly adorable.

Does she think she has the power to ruin me? That she, bowing here before me, curtsying, begging for my acknowledgment—she imagines she could crush me?

"How precious. How entertaining." I tilted my head, voice velvet-wrapped steel. "I must say, I never thought you had the daring to issue veiled threats in front of a Crown Princess. My, my. Count Talvan has raised you far too bold."

She flinched and clenched her fist.

Then, I rose smoothly, every movement deliberate, every inch the predator drawing blood. Taking Osric’s hand in mine, I let my eyes flick toward hers one last time.

"Well then, Lady Eleania. Lady Sirella." My voice rang sweet as chimes, cold as frost. "It was... enlightening, meeting you both today."

As I swept past her, skirts brushing like the crack of a whip, I added softly—lethal honey in my tone:

"See you at the tea ceremony."

The boutique owner nearly tripped over her own feet as I gestured. "You—follow me. I want that gown re-designed. Now."

And just like that, we left.

Because this little spat? This was only the prelude.

The real game begins at the tea party.

***

[Inside the Royal Carriage—Later]

The carriage door opened with a creak, and in stepped Osric, holding...

"...a cotton candy?" I blinked. "Oh heavens, that’s huge!"

He only smiled faintly, boyish in a way he never let others see, and passed the puff of sugar into my greedy hands. I plucked a piece and popped it in my mouth, sweetness melting on my tongue as he slid inside.

But instead of sitting beside me, he lowered himself across, on the opposite seat.

I froze mid-bite. "...What are you doing?"

He blinked at me like I was the odd one. "Sitting."

"No, no, no," I patted the space beside me—firm, commanding. "Here."

He hesitated, lips twitching, before giving in and settling at my side. I immediately slumped against his broad shoulder, like it was the most natural throne in the world, munching contentedly.

For a while, we stayed like that. Warm. Quiet. Comfortable. Then his voice cut through, low and hesitant:

"Lavi..."

"Mmm?"

"Don’t wear that dress at the tea party."

I blinked. "...Excuse me?"

He didn’t flinch. "Don’t wear it."

I tilted my head. "But you picked it. What’s wrong with it now?"

His jaw tightened. His answer came like an arrow—sharp, unhesitating.

"...It’s too bold."

"...Bold?" I raised a brow. "It has a turtleneck, Osric. A turtle neck. If that’s bold, then the nuns at the cathedral must be scandalous seductresses."

He gave me a look, flat as steel.

I only asked the boutique owner to re-design it. You know—make it more modern. A little flair here, a little slit there... At the leg.

I just wanted to give it a modern touch and make it elegant. Sophisticated. A little dangerous. Perfectly me.

"May I ask what’s wrong with that one, Osric?"

His hand twitched toward the sword at his hip, and his voice dropped into something darker. "Because I don’t want any other man looking at your legs."

"...Eh?"

. . .

. . .

Then I choked on the cotton candy and then broke into laughter. "Oh heavens—are you... jealous?"

His gaze didn’t waver. "...You could say that."

A dangerous edge flickered in his tone as he added, "If any man dares, I’ll pluck out their eyes myself."

My smile turned into a smirk. Delicious. He really meant it.

I leaned closer, brushing my lips against his cheek. "How utterly adorable you are, my grand duke."

He blinked at the kiss, startled for half a breath. Then his eyes shifted—hungry, molten, no longer boyish. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him.

"Adorable?" His voice was low, deep, and dangerous. "That’s not the word I’d use right now."

My breath caught as his gaze dropped to my lips, lingering there like he was already claiming them.

"Lavi..." he murmured, heat pouring into each syllable. "...May I?"

My face flamed red. My instinct was to throw up my shield of humor. "I—You’ll just smooch my cheek again, won’t you? Predictable."

But before I could look away, his hand cupped my chin, firm yet gentle, forcing my gaze back to his.

"No," he said, voice velvet and fire. "Not this time."

Then he leaned close, lips brushing the shell of my ear, his whisper sending a shiver racing down my spine.

"...Because this time, I can’t hold back anymore."

My eyes widened, heart hammering.

He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze again. His pupils were brown and intent. His voice was barely a breath.

"So... may I?"

I nodded, breath catching in my throat, and in that single motion, he slid me gently, deliberately, onto his lap. My knees tucked lightly against his, the warmth of his body enveloping me, steadying me in a way that made my pulse hammer even faster.

His gaze locked onto mine, deep and holding me captive. One hand lifted slowly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear, and his thumb lingered against my cheek—soft, teasing, and reverent all at once.

Then... his lips met mine.

Soft. Tender. As if he were savoring the moment, tasting the sweetness of me for the first time, careful, cautious, like we had all the time in the world. My hands instinctively rose, curling into his shirt, clutching him, memorizing the solid warmth beneath my fingers.

But the softness didn’t last. Not for long.

It shifted. His lips pressed harder, hungrier now, igniting a fire that ran straight through me. Urgent. Demanding. All-consuming. His hands moved with intent, cradling my back, pulling me impossibly closer, as if he could erase every distance we’d ever had—every stolen glance, every teasing smirk, every suppressed thought—into this one moment.

I gasped softly against his mouth, a trembling, delighted sound, and he responded with a low, almost feral hum of approval. Every nerve in my body screamed for more, and yet, even in the heat of passion, there was tenderness—the way his forehead rested against mine when we broke for air, the way his hands lingered, unwilling to let go.

"You... you drive me insane," he whispered, lips brushing mine, breath ragged. His voice dropped lower, heavy and intense, chest rising and falling against mine.

"...You make it impossible for me to hold back...Lavi."

I couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. Instead, I slumped against his shoulder, heart hammering so loud I was sure he could feel it.

He chuckled softly, one hand patting my back gently. "Is my princess... shy?"

I couldn’t reply. I just... couldn’t.