A man of honor

"I hope the Crown Prince takes my words to heart. He's sensible enough to change, if he chooses to," Dahlia murmured, her fingers gently plucking the petals from the water lilies and placing them into a basket. "But I've come to understand something—this hatred towards Sullivan, it isn't truly about him. It's rooted in the affair the King had with a courtesan."

She paused, letting the petals fall softly. "If they must be angry, their anger should be directed at the King, not Sullivan. He didn't choose his birth or his circumstances."

Lost in her thoughts, Dahlia didn't notice the figure approaching until a familiar voice broke the silence.

"What are you doing so early in the morning?"

Startled, Dahlia looked up to find Sullivan standing a few steps away. The morning light softened the sharp lines of his face, making him appear almost ethereal. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him, a reaction she still wasn't entirely used to.