The peaceful rustle of wisteria faded the moment Prince Elias stepped into the garden. Every noblewoman leapt to her feet at once—some nearly knocking over their chairs—desperate to appear composed.
Elias' steps were unhurried, almost lazy, sunlight catching on the gold embroidery of his attire. His gaze swept across the garden before landing on me with unmistakable amusement.
Behind me, Clarisse—still pathetically kneeling—lifted her head.
[Don't pity her.]
Of course.
"Y-Your Highness!" she blurted, blotchy face trembling. "P-Please—Seraphina—she—"
He raised a hand, halting her rambling.
"Crown Princess," he corrected smoothly.
Clarisse froze. "Wh—what?"
He tilted his head. "Address her properly. You may refer to her as Your Highness, the Crown Princess. Anything less is disrespectful to the throne."
Her lips quivered. "Y-Y—Your Highness… Crown Princess… She b-bullied me!"
Elias placed a hand on his chin dramatically. "Hmm. A serious accusation."
My heart dropped.
