This Princess is an Extra-Chapter 40: Gift

"Then I shall hope that your wish comes to fulfillment."

"I am pleased to hear that." The subtle smile on his lips deepened making Eli gulp, he was undoubtedly heavenly without even trying and now that smile made him breathtaking.

Just then, the first firework bloomed across the night sky and she snapped her head upwards breaking their eye contact as colors burst and scattered up in the sky picturing a pleasant view. In the midst of the dazzling fireworks she had forgotten to ask for his name, again.

While the Princess and Leo were mesmerized by the fireworks across the sky, the young duke eyes kept going back to look at her every now and then, whom he was finding endearing. Her eyes, which he remembered as sharp and demanding from his very first night in Elarion, looked even brighter in the illuminated light right now.

Meanwhile, far away from the shimmering sky lights, in a tent, Drayce’s golden eyes snapped open.

Inside the night-draped tent, several lanterns flickered softly pushing back the dark in uneven waves. A small iron brazier burned steadily near the center filling the space with comforting heat. The interior was adorned with exquisite furnishing- thick carpets, furs for bedding, table, chairs of the finest quality. An assortment of weapons occupied one corner, while a low table held a scattering of maps, and confidential paperwork in the opposite one.

Near the brazier, a small wooden tray rested atop a folding stand, displaying remnants of a meal. Beside it lay a silver goblet with its base engraved with intricate patterns that held the deep red stain of wine recently sipped. Even the utensils were polished steel exhibiting luxury, even in the middle of a battlefield.

"How is Rhiven?" the master of the tent asked, sitting on the edge of the bed with his bare back turned toward Azazel. His long black hair was gathered in a loose bun, leaving the line of his spine under the bandages, exposed to the warm glow of the lantern light.

"The lord is still unconscious, he did rouse briefly yesterday, and ate a lot then he passed out again." Azazel replied, giving Drayce a moment to smirk, "Few of his ribs are cracked, his left hand finger’s are fractured, and his shoulder was torn out of place. Several lashes across his back were deep enough to scar." He paused, lowering his voice. "But he is stable."

"Your Majesty and the lord were found downriver and were carried past the borders by the Sparrows," the leader of the covert unit added respectfully giving his report to Drayce, who was now looking at the clothes and his belongings that he had used in Elarion placed neatly on the wooden table beside his bed.

Picking up a wooden box placed beside his dagger, he asked calmly, "And what occurred in my absence?" After which he opened the lid and his gaze landed upon a jeweled headpiece he had carried with him in Elarion.

"The camp remains stable, Your Majesty. No unrest has surfaced since your... departure," Azazel reported, as he couldn’t help but wonder taking in the strange sight in front of him, "By the prime minister’s orders, half of the selected troops have already departed for Vortalis. They are to be replaced by the fresh units that had left from Vortalis. They are expected to arrive by tomorrow." his liege, still injured and in need of fresh bandages, was far less concerned with his wounds than he was with idly turning a lady’s jeweled headpiece over in his hands.

W-why is he smiling?

"Is that it?"

"Pardon?" Azazel blinked, the veiled man snapping out of his thoughts.

"The report.....was there anything else?"

"Oh—yes, there just a little bit of information on Prime Minister, brought in by the Sparrows."

"Go on." he still hasn’t lifted his eyes up.

"Prime Minister abruptly halted the expedition and returned to Vortalis," Azazel reported.

"Hmmm...what happened?" he hummed.

Azazel lowered his head. "Regarding that, Your Majesty... we are awaiting further reports." he braced himself, fully expecting a sharp remark at the incomplete update, instead, his head snapped up at once hearing a low chuckle escape from Drayce.

"Returning a lost item to its owner is only proper, isn’t it Azazel?"

What’s wrong with him....?!

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the stillness outside the tent.

"Permission to enter, Your Majesty."

Calmly, as though he possessed all the time in the world, Drayce tucked the jeweled headpiece back into its wooden box. Then he slid it into the bedside drawer before speaking, "Enter."

Azazel, bowed respectfully and stepped aside to take his leave when the tent flap lifted and General Thoren, the big bulky man stepped inside, as Azazel offered a brief nod in greeting as he walked by him.

"Welcome upon your return, Your Majesty," Thoren rumbled, planting a fist over his chest in salute. "A message has arrived from the capital."

Hearing that, Dracye who was still seated on the edge of his bed with his bare back to the general raised one hand. "Give it here."

Thoren stepped forward to the bed and offered the sealed letter with both hands. As Dracye took it, the general’s eyes couldn’t help but flicker toward the bandages wrapped across his liege’s chest. Drayce’s expression were unreadable as he scanned the contents and without a word, he rose from the bed and walked past Thoren towards the iron brazier burning the parchment over it.

"I will depart for the capital at first light," Drayce gave him another command, "Until my return, General, you will assume charge of the encampment."

"As Your Majesty commands," he replied, after which he should have ideally left, but he gawked Drayce mood, who was calmly draping a long robe over his shoulders and was appearing far too relaxed, so he decided to take the risk and asked, "If I may, Your Majesty...?"

Drayce merely cast a single glance over his shoulder that served as a permission to continue.

Having received the silent permission to proceed, Thoren bowed his head before continuing, "Azazel informed us that Your Majesty had gone out for a hunt. When you failed to return, I personally led the search into the surrounding wilderness, scouting every reachable span of land."

"But... there was no trail of you anywhere to be found."

Then he lifted his gaze toward Drayce, who had now seated himself on his seat near the table where various documents lay neatly arranged, idly sifting through them.

"May I ask," Thoren said carefully, "where Your Majesty truly went?"

Silence reigned between them for few moments. Drayce finally raised his eyes to look at Thoren and tilted his head, then said simply "If I told you I went to Elarion.... would you believe me?"

"...Elarion? But that lies within hostile borders. Your Majesty, the Prime Minister expressly forbade any crossing into that realm—" Thoren said only to be interrupted by the Drayce,

"So?" his fingers were casually turning a page of the document before him.

"Then... may I be permitted one further question, Your Majesty?"

"You grew rather bold, General. But know this—whatever you wish to ask, you do not have leave to speak of it to anyone."

"Understood, Sire. This will never leave this tent." he said before asking his question "If I may, Your Majesty... who injured you? If the wretch still draws breath, then I swear, once we take Elarion, I will personally drag him to the dungeons and make him beg for death."

Drayce now looked at him as he slowly put the documents aside. The gracefulness in his movements, and that hint of arrogance were most probably drilled into him from birth. Another pause ensued until his voice once again shattered the silence as he let out a light laugh.

"A golden dove." That was all Thoren received in answer deepening his confusion.

When morning arrived, Drayce departed for his empire and the farther he traveled from Elarion, the more intensely he felt the burn of the wound left by Elinessa upon his chest. The winds only fanned the flames of revenge burning within him, but more than that, claiming the Golden Dove had became his purpose now. Unknowingly, the first spark of war had already been lit, yet Drayce had won the opening battle without ever lifting a blade, simply by returning safely to his lair from their own capital.

Meanwhile, back in Elarion while the palace bustled with tailors, decorators, and maids fussing over wedding arrangements since only ten days remained until Callisto’s wedding, Callisto stood in the dim interior of his chamber, fastening the last button of his shirt. But instead of preparing for the grand ceremony, the Crown Prince himself was preparing to depart somewhere tonight.

As he was leaving the room, his eyes fell upon a ridiculously large chest that had been delivered last night. How could she think to gift me such a hideous thing? he thought, yet a small smile tugged at his lips. He sighed, shaking his head. A note lay atop the chest: