Chapter Two

Despite the hectic atmosphere that permeated every corner of the kingdom, there was one room that remained untouched.

The curtains inside were drawn shut, blocking out any light that might have penetrated the chamber. If not for the attendants waiting outside, one could easily mistake this room for an ordinary chamber and not a royal chamber.

Inside this room, the prince of Grendella slept soundly, undisturbed by any noise or disturbance.

["You brat. Why did I ever think of bringing you inside the palace ten years ago?"]

A muffled but stern voice from behind the door made the prince stir in his sleep. Only one voice could wake him up from the depths of his slumber.

["Please wait, Butler Stan!"]

The doors burst open, and the fading afternoon sun immediately assaulted the slumbering prince's eyes. With the curtains drawn, he instinctively clutched the sheets for cover.

"Your Highness, it's your thirteenth birthday, and you're still in bed," the old butler's voice echoed across the room. "Your crowning ceremony starts in three hours."

"Butler Stan, can't you let me sleep for just a few more minutes?" the prince grumbled, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

"It's five in the afternoon." the butler exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Everyone's busy with the preparations, and you two just wouldn't let me breathe, would you?"

At the foot of Prince Julian's bed stood a boy who was around his age. Unlike the prince who was clad in white pajamas, this boy wore all things black. He would have been mistaken for an assassin if the palace didn't know him as the prince's personal guard and closest confidant.

Julian groaned and rubbed his eyes, finally sitting up on his bed. "It's not a crime to catch some sleep before the festivities. I didn't agree to this celebration, anyway"

The prince felt a cold wind brush past his shoulders, and he looked up to see the old butler smiling. This was not a good sign, so his feet immediately popped him out of bed.

"But of course," he said, "It is my duty to welcome guests as a prince. So, now I must tend to my responsibilities and get dressed immediately."

"Very well said," the butler smiled. "Please do so, your highness. I'm not leaving this room until you're ready."

. . .

When night fell, so did the tears in Butler Stan's eyes. He couldn't help himself. Not when the Crown Prince stood in front of him—so majestic in white.

The prince he'd reared since birth had grown into a fine young man. With his black hair combed neatly to the side, Prince Julian's blue eyes were on full display.

"I now present to you the royal family's heirloom," Butler Stan presented a golden button to Prince Julian, "If you may..."

The kingdom of Grendella has a century-old tradition of men giving the first button of their shirt to the girl they fancy. This gesture symbolizes their love and loyalty. Even the first king of Grendella honored this tradition and the golden button he'd given his queen then became the royal family's heirloom ever since.

"Since you admire this button so much," Prince Julian nicked his first button from a mirror. The intricate patterns weren't to his liking, in all honesty. "You can have it."

"Your Highness! This is not something to joke about!" The butler bowed and so did the chambermaids. "It is a must that you give this button to the girl you fancy!"

The butler's eyes turned dreamy as he waltzed across the room. "If you find a girl who makes your heart race, and whose beauty shames the heavens in your eyes, she'd be more than worthy to keep this as a token of your love!"

Julian shook his head as Butler Stan went on his long list of wishful thinking.

To him, all of Butler Stan's fantasies were impossible. With his soaring standards, no girl would meet such conditions in this lifetime.

What's a beauty that shames the cosmos when he never liked the skies, anyway? Besides, his irrational disinterest in romance even had rumors circulating in the palace, questioning his sexuality.

The possibility of someone making his heart race was zero.

"If no one fits those descriptions," Butler Stan said, "Your Highness might as well consider the woman Queen Beatrice chooses--"

"Save your words."

Julian knew what was coming.

Ever since he was young, everyone close to him had pitted him with the Crown Princess of Leighnia. He'd never met her, nor has he heard her name, but he understood everyone's intentions.

If he were to marry this unknown princess, the two kingdoms would finally reunite. But that would make him a mindless chess piece trapped in a loveless political marriage.

It was not something he'd tolerate.

"I'd rather marry an outlaw than be with that whiny princess."

The butler gasped, his widened eyes relaying surprise. "Your Highness! The Crown Princess of Leighnia is nothing like that--"

Julian tapped him on the shoulders. "I know your thoughts, and I'm just as grateful to them as you are."

He didn't need to be reminded of how Queen Genevieve, or Lady Genevieve, saved his life thirteen years ago. Call him ungrateful, but his gut feeling told him this woman held great principles. She would never appreciate it if Julian were to marry her daughter out of indebtedness.

"But marriage centers on love, not gratitude." he said. "Now, spare me a minute to breathe before I pay my respect to anyone."

Prince Julian stepped onto the balcony, and all the attendants behind him resigned. He needed to be alone in his thoughts before facing the crowd, and the balcony had always provided him with the peace he sought.

However, this night was different.

A large crow as dark as the night sky flew overhead, and its screech made him flinch. Before he could react, the bird swooped down and stole a button from his shirt.

"Hey!" Julian exclaimed, glaring at the bird as it flew away.

He looked down at his suit and to his worst luck, realized the bird had taken his family heirloom.

"Impertinence!" he clenched his fist while cursing the crow, "All these buttons, and it just had to take the very first one? Great!"

He ran out of the room while keeping a tight grip on his collar to conceal the disappearance of the button from its first mourner--Butler Stan.

"Prince Julian," the butler greeted him, "How was tonight's air--"

"I-I want to stroll the garden," he lied, cutting the old butler off before rushing out.

Prince Julian never imagined the gravity of losing his family's heirloom until now. Losing that button would be the cause of his mother's sadness, Butler Stan's hysteria, and his father's disappointment. He had to retrieve it at all cost.

The prince zoomed through hallways and stairways, ignoring countless curtsies and bows from ladies and gentlemen.

When he reached the garden, he had to catch his breath. Twice.

"Impossible," his favorite word sought a comeback.

His gaze went up and down an old wisteria tree by the pond, momentarily distracting him from his crisis. With its flowers in full bloom, they out-plumed the purple drapes on his mother's chambers. But this tree never bloomed in years!

"The curse... has been lifted?" he murmured to himself.

Rumors had it that their kingdom was cursed years ago, and every wisteria tree close to its proximity stopped blooming. Not that Julian believed in fairytales but tonight, it was as if the curse had been lifted right before his eyes.

He shook his head and focused on looking for the crow, but was then again met with another distraction.

"What's this?" A sweet voice resounded from behind the wisteria tree. It sounded like a girl talking to someone else. "You have a gift for me?"

Out of curiosity, Julian followed the voice. He was hoping to see a palace maid who can help him in his pursuit, but instead, he was met with a beautiful stranger.

Perhaps, it was the moonlight's spell, but he could swear this girl was glowing like an angel. As the pond captured her reflection, he estimated she's about his age, or younger. Probably twelve or thirteen.

Julian was snapped out of his reverie when a set of dark wings interrupted his wisteria-tinted vision.

The prince realized the girl was talking to the crow that robbed him of his family's heirloom. It was perched on her shoulder, and the girl had her palms open to accept the 'gift' from its beak.

[What's this? You have a gift for me?"] he remembered her words.

Without thinking twice, the suspicious prince condemned the beautiful stranger with nothing but speculation as basis. He'd heard countless stories about outlaws training birds and animals to steal jewelry.

He knew better than to let someone's appearance fool him. She was not an angel! She was—

"A bandit!"

. . .