Irene was well-aware of how the prince was like since before she had stepped into the palace. Troy was arrogant, snobbish, and a nuisance to deal with. She was tempted to sink her blade into the back of his neck and be done with it, but out of sheer goodness, she decided not to.

She carefully put the tray she was holding on the table that separated her with the prince, who was still draped across the couch. He was presenting himself in a vulnerable position, which meant he just didn’t care anymore, or he was just unaware of her presence.

“How do you prefer your tea, Your Highness?” She asked, setting the cups and pouring the steaming tea inside. The aroma of jasmine enveloped the room, and she felt herself calming just from the scent.

“… Not too sweet.”

Ah, Irene thought, so he was just sulking. Touche. “Are two cubes enough?”

He finally sat up and met her eyes. He looked rather haggard, with his blonde hair messy and sticking out in all directions. His tunic from yesterday was crumpled and wrinkled.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He was unusually weak-willed today. Perhaps what happened yesterday really bothered him. Irene held back her tongue and handed over the cup. “Here you go.”

While he was taking small sips of the tea, she glanced at him furtively. Aderia had kept her up to date with the prince’s past, and how the incident from the day before greatly affected him. She hadn’t believed in every single word, considering the fact that she had the worst first impression on the prince.

“I bet they already told you about what happened.” Troy said, putting the cup back on its saucer. He leaned back on the couch, his face still unreadable. “That was a long time ago. I never thought it would come back to haunt me.”

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“Your past doesn’t make up your present.” Irene stated firmly, clenching her hands tightly. “Are you trying to make use of what happened in the past to justify your current actions?”

“No.”

The answer startled the princess, who was immediately lost for words. Troy seemed sincere with his reply, with his eyes just looking… sad. “I’m not giving an excuse. I’m fully aware that I’m an imperfect ruler. I just never came to terms with what I’m lacking, until I saw you yesterday.”

Irene stood up, smoothening the rumpled skirt of her dress. She glided across the room, and settled by the closed windows to the balcony. There was an itch inside her heart, and it was troubling her. “I vouched for the little boy, you saw me, and all of a sudden you had the gall to turn over a new leaf? Preposterous.”

“Maybe. It didn’t change the fact that I see now what you meant from before. How I lack understanding of the people. I failed to overcome my past, and from that I failed to overcome my weaknesses.” The couch he was sitting on creaked, and she kept silent as he joined her by her side. “I was scared if I would get tossed aside again and let the ministers do as they please without saying anything back.”

“Even with your blind obedience, revolution is growing in every corner of the city.”

“I’m a foolish man, Irene, not ignorant. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“… Excuse me?”

Irene stared at the prince next to her, as if she was seeing him for the first time. She never gave any particular attention to his appearance before, but the light streaming in had highlighted the dark circles under his eyes, and how sunken his cheeks were.

He was exhausted. Terribly.

Irene took a step back, then dropped her gaze on the documents upon documents stacked on top of his desk. She stepped closer to take a better look, and when the prince didn’t protest, she pulled out a piece of paper.

It was signed by the leader of the revolutionary army.

A treaty that stated the rebels would storm in by next month and claimed the palace.

“… You betrayed your own country.” She said, throwing the paper at him in anger. “You couldn’t afford to take care of it, and this is how you settle it? By giving it up?”

“Sometimes the best option is to surrender. I admire your intelligence and your wits, Irene, but I apologize. Your presence is unneeded. I fully intent on letting this country run by them.”

Before she could say anything else, the door to the office was slammed open. She spent a second regretting to bring her dagger, and then Aderia had her pinned against the ground. She struggled to break free, but she was an assassin—she was no match against a soldier who was properly trained.

“Sorry ‘bout this, princess.” Aderia said in her usual cheery voice, not the slightest bit apologetic.

“You have my gratitude for snapping the prince out of it. However, this only serves to realize his ultimate goal even more.” Brandon bowed politely. “We cannot take the brunt of your country taking over ours, Your Highness. Please forgive us.”

The last thing Irene saw before a sharp pain knocked her out was the prince opening the windows and letting the sunlight in.