The Witch's Cursed Daughter

23. Romile's Past: I

While the sound of Julian's laughter filled the room, mixing with the pleasant scent of dried flowers, Evianna smiled encouragingly at Romile.

Tapping his foot against Julian's chair, he cleared his throat once or twice, "Your Ladyship, my past with the princess is complicated but rather easy to understand. Since His Highness grants permission, I will tell you what happened the first time I met her."

Before Romile began, he stretched out his hand and patted the bed curtains with a look of sorrow; taking a breath, he cast back his memory to the day he entered the palace.

***

Having graduated at the top of his class, Romile Vol Fassie, much like other members of his family before him, had not relied on his position or ancestral history as a noble to gain a knighthood. Undertaking gruelling lessons at the sword from the tender age of seven, Romile had entered into the Order of Anzu at eleven years old. Named after the first beast to terrorize Waldemyre, the Order of Anzu is the knightage loyal to the Fassie Dukedom. When called to arms, these knights act on behalf of the kingdom led by the duke himself; at present, Romile's father, Everett Vol Fassie, alone holds such a privilege.

By the time he was fourteen, Romile had completed his training, following in his father's footsteps, and he received the highest merit: Blade Master. This title was only gifted to the most talented prodigies to undertake weaponry as their future. The Fassie family had housed five Blade Masters, three more than any other noble line, including the royal family. This honour brought with it jealousy from his peers and arrogance, and this was due to the abilities a Blade Master possessed.

When using a weapon, the wielder would produce an aura; this aura would be unique and hold qualities that could not be learned, only awakened. Romile was thrilled to discover his aura was occupied by fire. His movements would be harsher, less-nimble, but more deadly, meaning the area his blade sliced would burn and be almost impossible to salvage.

Romile's goal was to stand by the crown prince's side, who would one day rule the kingdom. However, upon induction into the palaces, he was sent to the gloomy bastard, the second prince who was shunned by all and in the position of a Guard rather than a knight. In his anger, Romile ignored the prince on their first meeting and again on their second. As the seasons passed, Romile's frustration only grew as there was not much to do when guarding an eight-year-old. One day, without warning, the Royal Princess, Illea, visited, bringing gifts to welcome the new staff assigned to the second prince, including Romile.

As soon as they met, the Princess was infatuated. "Sir Guard, what is your name?" she smiled, her emerald eyes large and shining. While her beauty was undeniable, Romile felt a strange sense of danger that did not match the eleven-year-old princess's strikingly innocent appearance.

Choosing to smile politely in return, he responded, "My name is Romile Vol Fassie, Princess."

"Then, I shall call you Romile. Is that alright?" The dark-haired Princess beamed.

"Of course, Princess," again he felt an odd sensation on the back of his neck when she smiled. Only during tournaments did he ever get a similar impression. Unconsciously Romile shifted his eyes towards the second prince for the first time since meeting him. Surprised, Romile almost stumbled to find that the prince was staring back, a dark aura crawling from his body which reminded Romile of his own.

"Wonderful," the princess's high-pitched joy broke his stare. Latching onto Romile's arm, the princess began to drag him away. Though she did not have much strength, he was unable to resist her lead in his position. "Would you like to take a turn of the garden with me, Romile?"

Glancing around wildly, Romile responded, "I don't think it would be appropriate, Princess. I am His Highness' Guard."

"It's alright; I will leave him with some of mine, so he'll be quite safe." Only then did Romile notice that many men, older than him, had silently entered the room. Once again, looking at the young second prince, Romile realised why he had been assigned to him.

Slowing his feet, he alerted the girl dragging him that he would not continue, "Princess, I must decline your invitation. His Highness and I must remain together at all times."

To this, Romile could see a shift in the second prince's eyes; never before had he noticed that they shone brilliant silver beneath the coal-coloured locks that the prince used to hide his face.

A crunching sound made Romile look down. Seeing the Princess with her arm wrapped around his made him feel hostile, and a violent urge to throw her off bubbled deep inside. Swallowing down the impulse, he watched as she smiled, almost as if she were a feline with sweet curling lips.

Out from her poised maws came the word, "Come."