7

Three days later found Daimon and his father coming back to Grecia. The summit was a total failure. Romania were still being the stubborn morons they were, and gods above was it irritating. The two, along with their guards, found their way back home; annoyed and tired.

When they arrived at the castle and asked where the women of the house were, they were told that they were in the Queen’s Rose Garden, and with a guest too. When they heard that, they both blinked in surprise, before they gave themselves a baffled look. The Rose Garden was the special place where the woman – especially the Miraene – go to cool down in times of pressure, or when they wanted to be left only. As it was small in size – it was a garden in a garden, strictly comprising of different types of roses – they all took care of it by themselves. It was surprising that they were having guests in it.

They headed for the garden, still clothed in their regal, royal clothes. When they arrived at the entrance, they were shocked still by the person who sat in the middle of the Queen and Princesses.

Herada Armstrong, the love interest of Daimon, was seated on the grass carpeted floor, making elegant rose crowns with his mother and sisters. She wore a white gown that has a slit on the right, showing her toned, luscious amber thigh, which has a gold band on it. Her mid-back, pitch black hair was down, covering her slightly exposed bosoms a little, and it flowed down her back. Her well sculptured face was set in a blank stoic mask and had strands of hair fanning it. By her side, on the floor, sat a green colored laurel crown; most possibly hers and that she had to remove to place the blue and red rose crown that sat on her head.

Herada suddenly went still before she slowly raised her head up, looking at their direction. The woman stared at them with cold, calculating grey-jade eyes; her face in her ever impressive stoic face.

King Dhimitrios felt a cold shiver go down his spine at her stare. It’s like the woman was staring deep into the darkest pit of his soul; viewing all his dirty secrets. He threw a surreptitious glance at his son and he couldn’t help but wonder why of all people, it’s her that he chose to be in love with.

Of all the aristocratic young Ladies of Athenian, his had to choose the one who wouldn’t sit and take nonsense from anyone. From what he had heard and seen, not even her father could stop her when she’s on a war part. He just hoped that Daimon is ready to receive hell if he perchance slight her in the future.

The Queen and her daughters soon took note of Herada’s lack of movement. They looked at her, blinking – Miraene and Moragan – or frowning – Meraena – in confusion, before they turned to the direction her eyes were trained on.

“Father! Brother!” Mera exclaimed in excitement. She dropped her unfinished crown none too gently, jumping up and practically flew to her father. The Emperor managed to catch her, staggering a little at the force of her hug.

“Hello, dear daughter.” He smiled down at her, getting a happy grin from her.

“Welcome home, father.” Mora said with an apathetic tone, walking calmly over to him and offered a small curtsy. Unlike her sister, she’s not the type to show emotion or behave uncouth, or better yet, do something as simple as hugging. She was as apathetic, stoic and cold as ice. It’s no wonder she and Herada got along swimmingly. “Brother.” Mora gave a curt nod at Daimon, who nodded back in greeting.

“Welcome back, Husband.” Miraene said with a dip of her head, a small smile on her lips. “My Lord, may I introduce to you Herada Armstrong.”

Herada, who stood with her arms behind her back, walked forward. She placed a hand on her chest and gave a small bow. “Good day, Your Majesty. Your Highness.”

Her tone was so cold that Dhimitrios just gave a curt nod, his lips quirked in a tight smile.

Taking in a deep breath, Daimon walked forward. “Tis a pleasure to see you again, Lady Herada.” He said with a small bow of his own. He stood up straight and took her hand in his. He placed a small kiss on the back of her palm, giving her a flirtatious smile. “The Fates’ must truly have smiled at our previous meeting.”

Herada gave a grunt like hum, arching an unimpressed brow at him. In the background, his family reacted differently.

The Queen heaved a silent sigh, shaking her head in disappointment; the King bit his lip in order to stop himself from bursting out into laughter at his son’s horrible attempt at flirting; Mora gave the back of his head a flat, unimpressed stare; while Mora silently face palmed.

Herada slowly removed her hand from Daimon’s, giving a curt nod at him. She took one or two steps away from him, and turned her head to the Queen.

“I thank you for the wonderful afternoon, Your Grace. Princesses. But unfortunately, I have to take my leave. I have important businesses I have to see to.”

Miraene batted her hand dismissively, a small smile on her lips. “No worries, Lady Herada. Until next time then.”

With one last small bow at the royal family, Herada made her way out of the garden. She majestically walked out of the palace and into the carriage still waiting for her. With a simple command at couch-man, she made her way back home.

Back in the garden, Daimon couldn’t help but heave a sigh. Once again, Herada ignored him, and didn’t hesitate to leave immediately he showed his face. It was as if his presence irritated or disgusted her.

“Don’t worry, big brother.” Mora patted his back before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Seeing as he was WAY taller than her, it was comical as she almost stood on her toes. “We’ll help you woe the woman of your dreams.” She said with a smirk.

“And pray tell, why do you all, especially you Mora, want to assist me?” He inquired with an incredulous tone, freeing himself from her light hold and stared down into her eyes.

Mora shrugged. “I like her. Herada that is.”

Her family, even her mother blinked in surprise at her statement.

“You… you like her?” Mera echoed with an incredulous expression. “Since when do like people?”

“Just because I hate your entire being and guts, Meraena, does not mean I have the same feeling for a tiny percent of others.” Mora said with a cold tone.

Mera pressed her lips into a thin line, giving her elder sister a hurt look. Miraene looked at her first daughter with furrowed brows. Dhimitrios gave his two daughters a worried look, before meeting eyes with his wife.

“Not only is she of great personality,” Mora continued, “she’s of great knowledge. She will be a great wife, as she is a great warrior. We must not let this opportunity pass us by.” While she spoke, her mother was nodding along with her words.

Well, Daimon was officially dumbfounded. Mora, his sister MORA, actually liked someone other than their mother and books?

“As much as it pains me to agree with Moragan, she is right.” Mera said with a sigh. “She would be a… good future Queen for the Empire. Besides, you’re clearly enamored with her. We will help you out.”

Daimon’s jaw slightly dropped. By the gods… did- did Mera just agree with Mora?

“Who are you, and what have you done with my sisters?” Daimon said with narrowed eyes.

Mora rolled her eyes at him before giving him an unimpressed look, a brow cocked; while Mera scoffed, folding her arms and turning her face to the side.

“Do you want our help or not, Daimon?” Queen Miraene asked, arching a brow at him.

Daimon held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender. It’s too early (or too late?) to be ripped apart by these three women.

“So…” Daimon folded his arms, giving the three of them a wide smile. “Where do we begin?”