He had been preparing to leave the empire as soon as the hunting festival ended, only to receive a letter from his father instructing him to remain there until the engagement.
"What engagement?!" Rihaan growled, throwing the parchment to the ground.
He had already prepared his luggage, ready to board the ship and leave this chilling land for good. And now, he was once again held back here.
Frustrated, he strode down the stairs, slipping into his black coat. He needed to visit Soren—right now.
Once outside, he found a pair of guards standing at the gate—men he didn’t know personally but easily recognized. They were from his own kingdom.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded, crossing his arms.
"The king instructed us to keep an eye on you, Your Highness, so that you wouldn’t leave the empire..." one of the knights answered, bowing deeply, while the others mirrored his gesture.
Rihaan let out a long, exhausted sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. He hadn’t told anyone about the mansion he had bought in the empire years ago when he came to study. So how did his father find out?
Just then, a face came to mind. His gaze shifted toward the butler, who immediately flinched.
"Oh, you little snitch," he muttered, clicking his tongue.
"I-I apologize, Your Royal Highness!..." The man dropped to his knees at once, bowing until his forehead touched the ground.
Rihaan, however, showed no interest in the apology.
"I’m not trying to run away. I’m going to visit the Imperial Crown Prince."
The knights exchanged hesitant glances before one of them dared to speak.
"But... Do you have an appointment, Your Highness? You know the Imperial Crown Prince—"
"Appointment, what?" Rihaan snapped. "I’m his fiancé!"
Without another word, he climbed into the carriage—alone, refusing even the knights’ assistance.
"And don’t follow me!" he ordered, slamming the door shut.
The knights let out a deep sigh. They surely heard from the king that the Crown Prince didn’t want this marriage but seeing him now, he couldn’t help but wonder if the information they received was even accurate. After all, who would visit their fiancé they don’t like early in the morning?
"He is rather unromantic." One of them whispered.
"Why do you say that?" Another knight asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I mean... He should have brought a gift for the Imperial Crown Prince, don’t you think?"
"... True." The soldier nodded.
The coachman yanked the reins, and the carriage rolled down the paved road toward the palace.
When the carriage stopped before the grand palace gates, the imperial guards immediately blocked the way.
Rihaan exhaled deeply, leaning to peek through the window.
"Why are you blocking the path?" he demanded.
"Do you have an appointment, Your Highness? We have strict orders from the Emperor not to let anyone apart from the imperial family or government officials enter or exit."
"Appointment?" Rihaan’s lips curved into a cold smile. "I’m here to meet with the Imperial Crown Prince."
"His Highness is in a meeting," one of the guards replied firmly.
Rihaan’s smile deepened, his brows raising in amusement.
"Oh? Then tell him his future husband demands to see him."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances—none of them wanted to defy the prince of another nation. In the end, one of them hurried inside.
When he reached the audience hall, the soldier knocked thrice before a faint "Come in" echoed from within. The heavy doors opened, and he stepped inside, bowing low.
"I apologize for the interruption, Your Highness."
Soren sat at the center of the room, one arm resting lazily on the couch’s armrest. Several ministers turned toward the intruder, their conversation halting.
"If you know, speak quickly," Soren said.
The soldier swallowed.
"Crown Prince Rihaan has come to see you."
Soren furrowed his eyebrows, dumbfounded.
Why is he here?
Wasn’t he supposed to leave today?
"Well, it cannot be helped," one of the ministers said with a forced laugh, trying to ease the rising tension in the air.
The sweet scent of Soren’s pheromones had turned sharp—almost suffocating. Perhaps it was the elf blood in his veins that made his emotions so volatile, even when his face stayed composed.
"Right," another minister added awkwardly.
They had been discussing Duke Danman’s punishment—Zayden would likely want him dead. But that could wait. Crown Prince Rihaan had chosen the worst time to appear.
Soren rose from his seat with a thud. "We will resume tomorrow morning," he said, rubbing his temples.
The ministers bowed as he left the room.
Moments later, Soren appeared at the palace entrance, his expression unreadable as ever. Rihaan had already stepped out of his carriage, waiting with arms crossed, confidence radiating off him. He had known Soren would come.
"You could’ve written a letter," Soren said quietly.
"And let you think I accepted this ridiculous relationship?" Rihaan’s voice was soft but sharp, his smile taunting. "Shall we head inside? You wouldn’t want the whole empire to know how our relationship really is."
Exhaling, Soren gestured for the guard to open the gates. Without waiting for his fiancée, he turned on his heel and started back toward the palace.
Rihaan followed after him, his boots sinking deep into the snow-covered path.
"Do you not clean the roads here? It’s so uncomfortable to walk," he complained, brushing snow off the edge of his coat.
Soren didn’t answer. His jaw tightened, a faint grimace flickering across his face.
Why does he always have to complain like a child?
Every word that came out of Rihaan’s mouth pricked at his nerves. It irritated him—no, it infuriated him.
"You could at least answer me," Rihaan said, pacing to catch up with Soren.
"And tell you what? No—actually, why are you still here? Weren’t you saying you would leave today?" Soren scoffed in disbelief.
"What do you mean? I received a letter from my father telling me to stay here until the engagement."
Soren’s eyes widened, surprised.
"Don’t look at me like that." Rihan mocked.
"Like what?"
"Like you had no idea."
"I really had no clue," Soren admitted.
Rihaan raised an eyebrow, doubtful of his words.
"I don’t believe you."
"That would, unfortunately, not be my problem but yours."