Rain tapped softly against the window as the steady rhythm filled the silence in Ella's room. She ran her fingers along the window and sighed deeply.
"Mama is busy again…" Ella whispered in the quiet room. She returned to her bed and hugged herself lightly.
Eleanor had been constantly in meetings around the manor, speaking with servants, handling letters, and dealing with whatever invisible responsibilities came, while Richard, their father, was like a ghost whose presence hung in the hallways more than in sight.
Ella felt so small. Her eyes drifted to the door.
'Maybe… I could look around a bit,' Ella thought. She slipped on her soft indoor shoes and padded to the door, turning the old brass handle with care.
Ell stood still at first, unsure of which way to go.
"Right would lead toward the grand staircase… where I can meet someone," Ella whispered, then looked in the opposite direction.
"Left… Left is quieter," Ella nodded as she decided which way to go. She didn't want to talk to anyone at the moment.
Ella turned to the left and strolled, her fingertips brushing along the wall as the cool surface grounded her.
The manor felt endless, corridors twisting and branching like veins of an old tree.
Eventually, Ella reached a corridor with a massive double door.
"Wah!" Ella was in awe. She pressed her ears against the door to see if someone was inside, but she heard nothing. A smile appeared on her lips as she slowly pushed the door open.
Ella's mouth gaped at the view.
The library was enormous, larger than any room she had ever seen. Floor-to-ceiling shelves rose like towering walls, the scent of old parchment and polished wood wrapping around her like a warm shawl.
Light filtered in through tall windows, illuminating dust motes that danced like tiny stars in the still air.
Ella stepped forward, her heartbeat soft but quick.
"Wow, this is amazing!" Ella gasped, her hand over her mouth. She had seen books before, of course, small, simple books, but what was in front of her was heavy, bound in leather, and looked like it was all in high quality.
Ella looked around to see if there was anyone nearby to assist her, but no one was there. She carefully stepped inside further and reached for a shelf, caressing the binds.
Aside from collecting circular items, Ella also fancied reading books and whatever was written on them.
"I want to read all of them," Ella murmured, reading each title with excitement. That was when a particular book caught her attention.
It wasn't the largest book, nor the most ornate. But its spine was in deep blue, marked with a small silver crest of a crown and a single lily underneath.
Ella's hand trembled slightly as she pulled the book from the shelf. She brought it to the nearby table, a round oak table by the window where the rain's music hummed softly.
"The Roses That Bloomed," Ella read the title before opening the cover.
Her breath stilled.
Every page was filled with careful ink strokes as Ella's eyes fell to the first poem.
"A flower blooms though no one sees,
Tender, quiet, soft as a breeze.
If such a bloom the world ignores,
I pray her heart will open doors."
Ella blinked, her fingers slightly traced the words, not touching the ink, just hovering as if it were sacred.
"A flower…" Ella whispered. Something about it echoed inside her chest. Then she turned the page.
"My heart is small, yet full of ache,
Yearning for a dream I cannot wake.
If fate would grant a single chance,
Let us meet beyond a mere glance."
Ella swallowed. Her hands rested gently over her heart. "Oh my, this is beautiful," she muttered. She leaned forward, resting her cheek lightly on the table beside the book.
A gentle smile appeared on Ella's lips, a genuine smile, one that bloomed slowly like the flower in the poem.
Minutes to hours passed by. Ella didn't even realize how long she stayed like that, her cheek resting against the cool, polished wood, the book open before her.
Then, a soft thud of footsteps broke the quietness.
Ella sat up quickly, eyes wide as she looked to the side where the sound was heard.
"Oh? You're here?" Cindy's brow lifted in surprise.
Ella stiffened. "Y-Yes… I was just… reading." Her voice was small.
Cindy's gaze moved to the book on the table. For a moment, her expression changed, softened, but only for a heartbeat.
Then Cindy smiled. "You picked that one."
Ella blinked, confused. "Do you… know this book?"
Cindy stepped closer, her steps light as a feather. "That book was written by the Prince," she stated casually. As though mentioning something ordinary. "The Prince of Rosendale."
The words struck like a bell in Ella's heart.
Ella's breath fluttered. "The… Prince wrote this?" She looked down at the poems written and became suddenly more aware of the letters and every line that held meanings.
"Yes," Cindy nodded. "They say he writes poems when he cannot sleep. Poems about love he wishes he could find." Her voice carried something wistful. "No one has ever truly seen that part of him. Only that book does."
Ella grabbed the book and re-read the poems. "He sounds…." She struggled. "He sounds gentle."
Cindy tilted her head. "He is admired by every noble girl in the region. Some say he writes to a girl he hasn't met yet. Someone he hopes fate will guide him to."
Ella's heart beat hard once. Then again. Her cheeks warmed as she cupped them.
"I… I want to meet him," Ella whispered, almost breathless.
Cindy blinked, startled, then softly laughed. "Oh, Ella," she said gently. "Do you want to marry the Prince?"
Ella didn't answer at first. She stared down at the book once more as she remembered what Anna had warned her, but she wanted to be honest.
"Yes," Ella whispered. "If he is the one who wrote these… then I… I think I love him."