11 Luck or doom?

On the stone wall, the candles that burnt inside the iron holders had gleamed the entire grand dining room. Across a few open windows, the long table endowed foods of varieties enjoyed by Amelia who sat alone on a chair.

Never once in life did she bliss her eyes with such delicious foods and savor every bite of them like this. If she had known it from beforehand, she would have never refused to come at first when a domestic servant acquainted her.

Shredding some meat from the fresh ham, she savored it inside her mouth and grabbed guava from the fruit basket. There was no one around and missing this grand chance to steal something precious would be an absurdity. Bracing herself, as she intended to pull her skirt's lace to hide that guava, a man who stood leaning his back against the door cleared his throat. Her stance stiffened.

Holy fuck. Double fuck. Triple fuck.

It was the young Prince. Trevor Elord.

He had been staring at her with a shadowy smile. Finally getting her attention, he crossed his arms and the smile shadowed even more. "You will get caught like that." His deep voice earned her gasp.

"Milord." Leaving what she had in her hand on the plate, she got up instantly and bowed. Last night, she encountered him in front of the council room. Even though he saw her escaping, he didn't say a word to stop her.

However, at this moment, after such an act, being no one beneficial to this estate, she could only fear him beheading her as he reached the table and took a sharp knife in his hand.

Amelia sweated, not daring to move a muscle whilst Trevor walked to her until there was only an inch gap between them.

Her prayers to live shrieked inside her head. "I'm really..." She stopped lamenting as she finally glanced at the Prince who was busy finding an apple from the basket.

"Aren't you a part of the spy team, lady?" He asked while peeling the picked apple with the knife.

Her body relaxed but the anger flared. If he wanted to shut the topic, he should have pretended he didn't even witness it in the first place. "I-I apologize... I didn't get it." stuttered Amelia, scrutinizing the handsome man.

"Why would you apologize if you didn't get it?" He slumped down on the next chair and nudged a bowl to her end. "Sit and try this one... you will love it."

Heeding his order, she reclined down and tasted a bit of the plum pottage. The scent of beer from the beef, cloves, apples, and raisins' mixture pulled her into a heavenly odor. She looked up to express her gratitude, but soon, she went awry by such a magnificent view. On a plate, he was organizing the pieces of the apple he peeled. How could someone look so good?

She had seen this Prince a few times already. But from a close distance, he looked more alluring than those foods. Perfection would be the least word for his broad shoulders and those strands of hair across his forehead.

His gold eyes flicked as they met her. "I know I am a distraction. However, I can't leave. I love to see people enjoying their foods." He paused and pushed the apple's plate to her side. "And above that, you are cute." Truly, the way she ate a while ago and thought of hers stealing guava was funny and too cute.

Awkwardness filled every niche. The smile across his lips brought goosebumps to her body. Swallowing a hard gulp, she forced herself to focus on the apple's plate silently.

"Did my brother invite you?" asked Trevor, staring at her without a blink.

"I apologize I don't know... a servant brought me here." She replied and soundlessly ate up a piece.

He nodded thoughtfully. "So... he did."

She nearly bit her tongue. "May I ask... why did he?"

"For the leader of your spy team." He said and saw a maid entering after a bow.

"I apologize again..."

"This time, I apologize for not having any inclination to make you understand." He responded and held a goblet in which the maid poured champagne before she found the woman next to him and her face paled.

"Amelia..."

To her utterance, Trevor took a sip and lifted a brow. "You know her?"

Amelia cursed underneath her breath as the maid said politely. "Milord, her mother is a cook and her brother works in the cellar."

"Interesting." Mumbling, he left the champagne and checked the time. His brother was supposed to be here too. "Do you know where can I find my brother?"

"He went to meet the King."

He got up instantly. But before he left, he took the guava Amelia aimed to steal and said. "Lady, don't leave without finishing the meal. Or I will complain."

Amelia stared at him until the lofty door closed. Was he even sane? Or such luxuries had driven him crazy?

On the way to the darkest end of the castle, Trevor found his elder brother. "Stop being so cruel."

His words that echoed off the walls halted Tristan's steps. Turning back, he offered Trevor a glare. "Stop being so clingy."

"I just love you." He sneered and followed his brother to the King's chamber that was built alone in the dark, deserted hall, guarded by sanities.

Upon arriving the brightest room, both Prince bowed to the disabled King, Finn Elord who lay on the bed. "We are here, father."

The luster of the room waned the grey-haired man's eyes. On his wrinkled face, rage went apparent. "Leave." He shouted, not even taking a glance at his sons.

Tristan frowned. "Last night, Ms. Eleanor told me that you were mourning for your shitty scheme that was failed. I was worried. How can you expect me to leave already? That's harsh."

"I don't want to see bastards like you." Having no power to move, the king could only torture his mind to tolerate them.

Tristan's face darkened. "Then die."

Trevor who was busy finishing the guava that he carried from the dining room chuckled and watched his brother moving toward the side he loves the most.

"Y-you killed Typhoon. How?" asked the King.

Tristan forced a laugh that didn't meet his eyes. "You know, it's not possible. If I could do that, I would have targeted you a long ago."

"And killing those fragile creatures that you made to kill us isn't even on our list. We are not that silly." Trevor added.

Finn snorted. "You made someone kill him for you."

Tristan shook his head when he finally entered his favorite expanse, so colorful that he felt colorless. Kicking the palettes and brushes on the floor, he discerned the rear of the canvases' stands that faced the people in this room, making them unable to regard those arts.

A smirk quirked up his lips as he stood before the cornered canvas and ran his fingers on its smooth surface. "I guess, this time it was my luck." From the closest window, a cold wind barged in and froze his fingers. His eyes fell upon the spot and they darkened immediately locating a girl there. "Or should I say... my doom?"