Empress of the Sea|✔️

Chapter 16

Rewritten
***

Jules, or Juele rather—the Crown Prince of Auber rather, stared at the wonderfully black tiles as if they were perfect. Almost as perfect as the crisp sound of the slap that rang through the room.

"WHY WERE YOU OUT OF YOUR ROOM LAST NIGHT?" his father howled. The king of Auber certainly needed to lower his voice or the maids would hear. "ARE YOU TRYING TO DISGRACE ME? YOU HAVE A CURFEW FOR A REASON."

Juele bowed low, his back cracking in stress rather than old age. "Forgive me, father. I had no intention of disgracing you in any way."

"Are you talking back to me?"

"No, I am merely answering your question—"

"You should know that these questions are rhetorical as I already know the answer, bastard."

That word rang through Juele's ears. It was true. His mother was a dead prostitute and the queen never saw him as one of her own. But he was the Crown Prince. Juele bowed lower, almost certain his pants would rip at the seam. His black hair bounced as his legs trembled.

"Get lost. Do what you want, but don't ruin the wedding at any cost. You do know the stakes, right?"

"Of course."

Juele Walked backwards out of the throne room, leaving behind the image of the salt-and-pepper beard and hair of the king. Leaving behind those black, demonic eyes. He couldn't risk showing his back to the king. The King had already seen it enough times to make his back a thing to hide.

King Picke Fiore of Auber, more like King Dicke—

"Your Highness, I've prepared the messenger owl you required earlier this morning."

Juele beamed, grateful for the distraction and the owl. "Thank you, Lara," he said before jogging to the owlery. His untucked shirttails danced with every step he took, just as messy as his hair, and his vest hugged all the right places. As he turned the corner, he caught the maid's eye and waved at her as an apology for running away.

Though he didn't need to.

The maid, Lara, blushed, squealing as silent as she could. It had been the first time she'd heard her name—and the fact that Prince Juele remembered...anyone with such a gift would brag. But she would keep this a secret. Or would she be able to with all the stories the others had?

Would it be turned into a competition again? To see who's interaction with the prince was the best?

And the pure sight of Prince Juele jogging with messy hair and clothing...

Despite his overly young age of nineteen, Auber's heartthrob made Lara's heart thump against her chest hard enough to make her stumble in her step.

Realizing she had the key to the owlery, Lara ran after Juele. When she arrived at the magnificent metal doors to the library with Auber's seal upon it, she heard Juele read his letter out loud trying to catch errors in his already perfect writing and handwriting.

"Dear Aeryn Branche, I know you hate me, but I miss you quite a bit," he read off the page as he slumped against the wall.

Lara hid behind the wall, eavesdropping. This would be a great enough story to win the competition. If the person he sent the letter to was a mistress... It could be. Aeryn was quite a common name among female nobles in Auber. But Branche? Lara had never heard the name before.

"Consider coming to my wedding? It's nothing important, but I made sure there's going to be lemon cake and no trances of strawberries. Just the way you like it, Aeryn—I spelt her name wrong. I'll have to fix that." Juele laughed at his letter. "I'm so stupid..."