Chapter 27
Princess Camilla, who had promised to arrive shortly, did not appear for over an hour.
So this is her game—trying to make a fool of me.
It was an old trick, but still one of the most effective ways to show just how much you disliked and disdained someone.
The longer the victim was made to wait, the deeper the humiliation.
But why me?
Elisa had no personal connection with Princess Camilla—no offence given, no cause for resentment.
She searched her memory for any misstep that might have provoked such treatment, but nothing came to mind.
Has she figured out about me and Ethan?
On the carriage ride to the palace, she’d dismissed the thought as pure paranoia.
But after being subjected to this, it was impossible not to suspect it.
If Camilla had indeed discovered the truth, how much did she know?
Elisa longed to find out—but the princess still hadn’t come.
A deep, unfiltered sigh escaped her.
She lifted her teacup, only to find the tea had gone cold, and drained it in a single swallow before standing.
Nearly two hours was more than enough to wait.
Princess or not, she had no grounds to complain if Elisa decided to leave now.
Still, she supposed it would be polite to at least inform a lady-in-waiting before departing.
She had just turned to do so when—
“Have I kept you waiting long?”
Princess Camilla appeared at last, gliding into the room with her attendants in tow, her lake-blue gown rippling like water.
The sweep of her skirts seemed to carry the sound of gentle waves.
“My apologies for being late,” she said with a smile of practised grace. “His Majesty summoned me unexpectedly. I couldn’t refuse.”
Camilla lied as smoothly as she breathed—serenely, elegantly, without so much as a flicker of guilt.
Elisa’s gaze dropped, almost involuntarily, to the bouquet the princess held in her hands: yellow roses, beautifully arranged and wrapped for gifting.
No…
“Lovely, aren’t they?”
Following Elisa’s eyes, the princess’s smile deepened as she took the bouquet from a maid.
“I heard you were fond of yellow roses, so I brought these for you.”
Before Elisa could react, the flowers were in her arms.
Their rich, heady scent rose around her, sharp enough to make her head spin.
Only a handful of people knew she loved yellow roses—her late governess, Ethan, and a few trusted friends.
It was a detail she guarded carefully; to most, it would seem an odd preference.
So if Camilla knew… had Ethan told her?
The memory of the princess and Ethan speaking warmly together at the Estevan baron’s party flashed in her mind.
Elisa bit down hard on her lip.
Something in her chest pricked, sharp and stinging, like the tip of a needle driven straight into her heart.
“I do hope you like them,” Camilla said sweetly.
“…Thank you.”
Elisa’s voice was cool, her reply short—no polite pretence, no fake delight.
The princess’s smile didn’t falter, but the maids’ faces tightened with disapproval.
They shot Elisa pointed looks, urging her to respond properly. She ignored them all.
“Shall we sit?”
At Camilla’s invitation, Elisa returned to her seat, setting the bouquet down beside her.
The maids refreshed the tea and pastries, then withdrew in silence.
“The lake is beautiful, isn’t it?”
The princess’s tone was warm, her gaze fixed on the sunlight dancing over the water’s surface.
“It’s lovely by day, but at night, it’s enchanting. When the sky is full of moon and stars, and the lanterns drift across the water… it feels just like a dream.”
Elisa gave no reply, only lifted her cup and drank.
Her stomach was already uncomfortably full from so much tea, but it was still better than humouring the princess’s empty chatter.
“So, Lady Elisa—why do you like yellow roses?”
The sudden question made her set her cup down.
“Most people shy away from them. Their meaning in the language of flowers is… less than pleasant. I find it curious.”
It was the question she heard most often whenever someone learned of her fondness for yellow roses.
Ethan had once asked her the very same thing.
On its own, it was an ordinary question, the kind anyone might ask.
But coming from Princess Camilla, it felt somehow off—as if there were some hidden purpose behind her words, something less than innocent.
“Lady Elisa?”
“…The meaning was decided by people, not the flower itself,” she answered at last, though she’d rather not have. “The flowers did nothing wrong. Why dislike them for it?”
Camilla clapped her hands together, smiling as though Elisa had just uttered something delightful.
“Oh, how wonderful! I feel the same. I’m so glad we think alike, Lady Elisa. We should be friends from now on.”
Friends? Somehow, I doubt that.
Instead of voicing the thought, Elisa offered her a small, polite smile.
The princess continued, talking about Elisa’s hobbies and about parties they had both attended—topics Elisa had no interest in.
“And so, I—”
“Your Highness,” Elisa cut in, her voice firm. “I would like to hear the reason you summoned me.”
She knew interrupting was rude, but she had no wish to waste any more time.
For the first time, the smile faded from Princess Camilla’s face.
“Are you saying you don’t want to talk to me?”
“Not exactly. I’ve simply been sitting for quite some time, and I’m a bit weary.”
“Then shall we walk by the lake and talk?”
“That won’t be necessary. I dislike water.”
It was a courteous way of rejecting the princess’s suggestion—and, by extension, her earlier remark about becoming friends.
Camilla caught the meaning instantly and pressed her lips together.
A heavy silence fell between them.
They stared at each other as though locked in a contest, but Elisa was the first to look away.
Picking a fight with the king’s beloved daughter could only end badly for her; at best, she would escape without punishment for disrespecting royalty.
“If you have nothing further to say, I’ll take my leave.”
“Ethan Estevan.”
The name—so familiar and yet so foreign on the princess’s tongue—halted Elisa mid-step.
Her gaze met Camilla’s, and in those trembling blue eyes she saw the return of that slow, knowing smile.
“A man who’s never held a weapon, let alone fought in battle, yet manages to perform heroics on the front lines… Don’t you think that’s extraordinary?”
The open acknowledgement of Ethan’s past made Elisa’s heart lurch.
How much does she know?
Surely she knew he’d once been a servant in the household of Count Leslie.
But did she also know about their feelings for each other?
Or—God forbid—had she guessed that Noah was his son?
The thought alone stole the breath from her lungs.
And the paler Elisa’s face grew, the brighter the princess’s smile became.
“Ethan not only saved my brother Howard’s life but also rescued the allied nations from disaster. Yet all he was granted was a barony and a modest estate. My father and everyone else, truly, we’re far too stingy. If it had been up to me, I would have given him something far greater… something worthy of him.”
Was it because she knew how Elisa felt about Ethan?
Somehow, the “something greater” the princess spoke of sounded an awful lot like the position of her husband.
“So,” Camilla said at last, her eyes glinting, “I want to take him to Laos.”
Perhaps it was because she knew that Princess Camilla harboured feelings for Ethan Estevan.
The way she spoke made it sound as though she was talking about making him her husband.
“So”, Camilla continued, “I want to take him to Laos.”
Laos—the kingdom with which the princess would soon be forging a political marriage.
“In Petra, his past holds him back. But in Laos? It wouldn’t matter. As part of the Petra royal marriage delegation, and as my aide, he could enjoy far more than he ever could here.”
No.
What she wanted was to keep Ethan by her side—as her lover.
“That”, Elisa said evenly, “is something you should tell Baron Estevan, not me.”
She swallowed the words she wanted to say—words she could never allow herself to speak—and kept her tone as neutral as possible.
“Of course I’ll tell Ethan,” Camilla replied smoothly. “But before that, I thought I should have your permission.”
“My permission? Why—”
“Because you and Ethan were in love, weren’t you? Even if it was in the past.”
She placed deliberate emphasis on the past, as if to provoke her.
But Elisa felt no sting from the jab—only relief.
If the princess truly believed it was over, then she must not know the truth about Noah’s birth.
“As Your Highness says, it’s already in the past,” Elisa answered calmly. “There’s no need to consult me.”
For the first time since their meeting began, Elisa felt a flicker of ease.
A small, subtle shift, but Camilla seemed to notice; her eyes narrowed slightly.
“Then no matter what choice Ethan makes, you won’t care?”
“No. The Ethan I knew no longer exists.”
Her voice was firm, final.
And that seemed to satisfy the princess.
The frost in her gaze thawed, replaced by something almost warm.
“As I thought,” Camilla said with a pleasant smile, “we do understand each other well. Let’s meet often from now on.”
