The Rose

IT WAS HIS mother's intention, as always.

Even though he was the crown prince, his words weighed nothing more than a mere feather in comparison to that of the Queen's. She had informed him at the very last minute that Duke Whitaker's daughter, Rose Whitaker, would be visiting the royal palace to share afternoon tea with him. As per usual, Hartley's busy schedule meant nothing in his mother's eyes. They were nothing more than a distraction from what she felt Hartley should be doing which was to form political alliances with the country's powerful figures.

After much discussion with Wyatt, Hartley had barely managed to squeeze time out from his busy day to allow a slot for Rose Whitaker to fit in. As per his mother's instruction, he had fetched the lady right from the palace gates and escorted her to the red rose pavilion, a place reserved just for his personal use.

Now seated before a lavish spread of afternoon tea, Hartley wanted nothing more than to just hide away in his office, buried behind his work. Surely they would be more entertaining than accompanying this threateningly scheming woman. She was, after all, the most viperous one among the noble ladies. As graceful as her name was, Rose Whitaker was also a thorn that stung painfully.

"I've heard stories of the red rose pavilion," Rose Whitaker commented, her eyes wandering to the bright scarlet petals with whom she shared a name with. "It is indeed as wonderous a place as those fabled tales made them out to be."

Silently, Hartley brought the delicate teacup to his lips and took a sip of the amber liquid inside. The faint aroma of earl grey was charming, a delightful treat for his tongue. However, his tea had no sugar inside. The bitterness sorely reflected the feeling in his heart at the moment.

Rose Whitaker was dreadfully boring. Yet, he couldn't keep his guard down because presuming that she was a boring woman would mean that he would be playing right into the palms of her hands. She always had a silver tongue when it was the right moment to speak. And when she didn't deem it necessary, she would be as silent as an ice statue.

Right now, it was in between. If Hartley was reading her correctly, she was testing the waters to see how she should deal with him. Although, Hartley wasn't sure if she knew that she was getting tested at the same time— by him.

"No news in the palace seems to be a secret for long, it seems," Hartley replied fairly, offering a meaningless facade of a smile. "Word spreads quickly."

"Well," There was a faint glimmer in Rose's eyes, one that Hartley didn't like too much, "The nobles do love their gossips."

"That is something we can most definitely agree on."

The spread that laid before Hartley was as lavish as every meal he has ever had in his life. Cakes and pastries of all kinds were displayed in front of him for his picking. Even the drink for the afternoon came in different flavors. There was mint, chamomile, and the earl grey that Hartley had selected for himself, all still piping hot in the teapot.

However, as grand of a spread it was, they were all selections that he had seen many times before in his life. There was nothing new to the table, as usual.

Just then, a distant chatter brought his attention away from the lifeless sweets on the table. He turned slightly, just enough to look in the direction the noise had come from. There, shielded from the blazing afternoon sun yet still basking in all of its golden glory was a different sort from the rest. Unlike the cakes and pastries that Hartley had seen too many times, this one was different and foreign. She was luminous, a glowing ball of light that seemed to be attracting too many moths around her, all sapping up her warmth like hungry dogs.

Unknowingly, Hartley had, too, become one of those dogs.

He was drawn towards her, his eyes unable to tear themselves off of her radiance. In fact, he hadn't even realized he was staring. All that existed in his mind was the beauty that sat in the white rose pavilion just a short distance away, smiling and conversing with his brother as if they had been friends for more than one lifetime.

It wasn't the first time in his life but jealousy brewed in Hartley's heart. He bit it down, forcefully denying giving the emotion a name in fear of what might become of him if he did. Hartley wasn't sure when it started but it was pleasantly lovely to bump into the wild wandering girl— a weed, most had called her.

Yes. In every way, she was as tenacious as one. A stubborn force of life that showed great curiosity and wonder for the world she was in. So much so that she seemed more than keen to defy the rules of it.

It was a fresh breath of air. One that Hartley soon found addictive.

"Your Highness?"

Rose Whitaker's voice was like a bell.

No, it wasn't a charming one. Rather, it resembled the ringing noise that was sharp to hear and painful to the ears. It pulled Hartley out from his little dream, dragging him across the dreamscape and back to reality where he was stuck in an awful situation. If his mother was here, he would've been reprimanded for sure. He was with a guest, after all, and one that was highly prized by the Queen herself.

"Is there something wrong, Your Highness?" Rose asked, feigning worry even though Hartley knew well enough that she wasn't so oblivious as to not know what had caught his attention. She was merely acting, a skill she was well-endowed with and had mastered to perfection.

"It is nothing," Hartley immediately replied.

He tried to turn back to the table but in the end, his strength only allowed him a few seconds before he found his eyes drifting back towards Alice again. She was still talking to Spade, their conversation seemingly infinitely more interesting than the dying one in the red rose pavilion.

Perhaps it was because he had been staring for a little too long but Alice suddenly spun around. Their gazes collided, clashing as sparks flew down Hartley's spine. With years of survival in the noble circle under his belt, he managed to keep his expression contained. There was no surprise in his eyes even though his heart was filled to the brim with it and his lips remained relaxed.

Behind him, however, was a woman burning as red as her hair. Hartley couldn't see it but Rose Whitaker, too, was looking in the direction of the weed in her precious garden. Her eyes, on the other hand, hadn't bothered to keep themselves contained. She wasn't afraid for there was nothing about Alice she feared. However, there was everything to be annoyed with.

The only thing Rose Whitaker had to be cautious of was the snake that hid behind the current jewel of the Ragan household. To some, the second prince of Gladiolum was a harmless pest. Nevertheless, Rose Whitaker knew.

Spade Knowles was not a snake.

He was a dragon, a monster still waiting for its prey to make a fatal mistake. She, for one, wasn't about to make herself that prey.

That afternoon, the two twin pavilions sat closely together just like any other day. However, under the same blue sky, the white rose pavilion was bathed in sunlight. Its guests were cheery-eyed and a face full of smiles. On the other hand, the red rose pavilion was shadowed by clouds blown their way. The heavens were biased and no warmth was shared to the pavilion colored like blood. Only frost hovered in the air that surrounded it, akin to the people it hosted.