Tellers of Lies [UNEDITED]

Chapter 6

Calix

As soon as the door slams shut on my face by Miss Sen herself, I exhale a deep breath. No palace guards or my bodyguard is around, which gives me a chance to break free from my poised demeanour. I lean against the wall with my palm on my chest, huffing and puffing. My hands move to my pants pocket but in vain. I realize that I have forgotten to bring my pills. To be specific, anti-anxiety pills.

It is known to me that I need to calm my anxiety down, which had heightened due to the ultimate pressure during the press conference. Before I cross path with anyone or Isha steps out, I need my pills.

No one can possibly see Prince Calix in such a weak state. No one can know that the first prince of Syncitia is diagnosed with problems such as anxiety, depression, and insomnia. No one.

Clutching my chest, I force myself to walk in the direction of my bedchamber, but my steps only falter.

"Shit," a curse leaves my lips when I stagger and slump down on the carpeted floor. Now I wish someone were here because if my condition worsens, I may lose consciousness. And that will be more embarrassing and another reason for being a disappointment to Father.

The sound of a door being open comes into my hearing range.

"Your Royal Highness!" Isha gasps loudly before rushing towards me. She seems to be more tensed, than me.

"Oh my God," her voice trembles while she provides me with support to stand up, "Let's head inside the lobby. I need to call—"

"No," my fingers enclose around her wrist, cutting her off mid-sentence, "Please don't call for anyone. Water. I just need water."

Isha does not argue and helps me enter a nearby lobby. A groan of satisfaction leaves my lips when my back touches the plush couch. Meanwhile, Isha frantically searches for water. The girl is so nervous, she doesn't even notice that a jug is kept right on the centre table, in front of me.

"Miss Sen," I croak, "There."

Her eyes follow my fingers, and she comes to the obvious realization. Soon enough, I chug down the lukewarm water, after Isha pours it in a glass and hands it to me.

I breathe in relief when my breathing level comes to a steady balance. My anxiety being on a moderate stage, I am able to calm my senses down after having one or two glasses of lukewarm water. At times, water doesn't help, but that occurs quite rarely.

"Are you alright, Your Royal Highness?" Isha asks, concern lacing her features. "Do you need anything else?"

I shake my head. I do not need an outsider's pity. But why does Isha's possible pity feel as concern to me? That cannot be. Of course, it cannot.

Why would anyone worry about an illegitimate prince?

"Your Royal Highness?"

I hum when I come to the realization that I had missed Isha's question. I straighten my posture, and compose myself before saying, "Pardon me, Miss Sen. You were saying?"

"First of all, relax your stiff shoulders and lean back," Isha says, obviously fed up at my willingness to recover to my prior unflappable demeanour.

"I am absolutely fine." I reply, trying to hide my ragged breathing, which is yet to fully return to a normal state. But Isha does not need to know so. "We should be moving. Our ride—"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Isha rolls her eyes as I stare at her use of vulgar words. She doesn't seem to care about my stunned reaction, as she herself puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me to lean my back.

Almost immediately, a foreign warm sensation prances through my body, while I keep staring at her not-so-bad face. The way her black locks curl around the sides of her face or the way her lips carve into an annoyed frown when I try to protest, catches—doesn't catch my attention. Not at all. These are none but natural observations. And by the time I realize, I am already leaning against the couch with Isha too close to me. So close that I can feel her hot breath on my lips.

"You need to loosen your tie and open a few buttons," Isha proceeds to say, while still leaning forward and massaging my stiff shoulders.

The woman is going to be so flustered when she realizes that she is practically straddling me. Redness coats my cheeks at the thought.

Calm down. You are being weird now. Miss Sen is only helping.

"Are you even listening, Your Royal Highness?" Isha continues to complain and share her never ending advice on overcoming anxiety breakdowns without any care in the world. "Please loosen your tie and open the top few buttons."

"N-No—"

Damn it. Why did I stutter.

A look appears on Isha's face which clearly expresses that she thinks I have gone crazy from my breakdown. When she moves away after helping me relax my shoulders a bit, and I try to loosen my tie, I find my hands still trembling.

I despise the after-effects even more.

"Let me help you," Isha leans forward once again, and like a slingshot my hands fly away from my tie. Perhaps, to avoid having them collide with hers. The action is ridiculous considering how normally we had our fingers intertwined like star-crossed lovers, not long ago, even when my heart seemed to be beating out of my ribcage for some reason. Most probably, because of the lack of contact I have had with the opposite sex for the past four years.

Isha begins to loosen my tie momentarily. Although my face is as stoic as it can be, I cannot stop the rapidly beating heart, trying to break free from my chest. I attempt to focus on anything else, other than this insufferable woman in front of me, but whatever I do, my eyes find her anyway. And slowly, the sweet fragrance of jasmine, mixed with a pinch of cedarwood, invades my nostrils.

Unceremoniously, Isha undoes the first three buttons of my black waistcoat. Until...

Her eyes collide with mine and she takes a visible swallow. So she has finally realized our position.

The creaking sound causes Isha to flinch and stumble, once again, over nothing. She definitely has a medical condition of stumbling all the time; I am sure of it.

"I am sorry..." Isha trails away, and so does every rational thought from my mind.

My arms are safely encircled around her waist, as I was striving to help her previously. Or rather, prevent Isha from crashing onto my forehead and causing a bleeding injury. I never calculated the other, more intimate positions we could find ourselves ultimately in. On the other hand, Isha's arms are around my neck. The worst part? Isha is partially sitting on my lap.

I hold in a tight breath when her knee touches somewhere it shouldn't have. Instinctively, my grasp on Isha tightens as I rasp out. "Stop moving."

"Sorry," her voice comes out high-pitched. She clears her throat before saying, "I'll move away. One moment—"

This clumsy woman.

Within the blink of an eye, I re-discover myself on top of Isha, our hands in the same intimate position. Why in the world can't she do anything correctly without tagging the clumsiness along with her?

"Your Royal Highness, are you—"

Both my and Isha's eyes widen as our heads snap towards the ajar door now. Audrey, my secretary, is standing with her palm on her mouth and beside her is Carlos, amusement visible in his eyes.

"We are doomed." Isha breathes out on my neck.

Oh yes, we are doomed.