Fake Royals

One the way, the Grivenian troop stopped at the guest mansion of Megaris to fetch the aide of the prince. 

Oriana sat inside Arlan's carriage. She greeted him with a bow and he accepted it with a nod. Their gazes met but Oriana immediately lowered her gaze, preferring to not look at him. She had an excuse. Being a servant she was not allowed to look at her master, and only now did she feel like she loved this rule. 

On the other hand, Arlan couldn't help but stare at her. Although he arranged to keep the windows open, within that small enclosed space, with him seemingly starved of her presence, her scent smelled sweeter, lovelier, like the most exquisite wine to his nose. 

He could somehow manage to bear it and he knew it was because of what Yorian had given to him. He could not thank that ancient elf more.