The palace gleamed brighter than usual. Tapestries were hung, chandeliers polished, and the scent of roses filled the air. Queen Elyandra had spared no effort, Valoria’s ambassadors had arrived, and with them, their daughter, Princess Diana.
Andrew stood at the edge of the grand hall, his mantle heavy on his shoulders. He had been summoned, not asked. His mother’s voice carried across the chamber, firm and expectant.
— Andrew, come. You must greet Princess Diana properly.
He obeyed, though his heart resisted.
Princess Diana stepped forward, her gown shimmering like moonlight. She was beautiful, undeniably so, her hair a cascade of golden curls, her eyes bright with curiosity. She bowed gracefully.
— Your Highness. It is an honor to meet you.
Andrew forced a smile.
— The honor is mine, Princess.
For days, the queen arranged their meetings. Walks in the gardens, meals in the banquet hall, lessons in diplomacy. Everywhere Andrew turned, Diana was there, her presence carefully orchestrated.
One afternoon, as they strolled beneath the palace roses, Diana spoke softly.
— You seem… distant, Andrew. Do you not enjoy my company?
Andrew hesitated, then sighed.
— It is not you, Diana. You are kind, and gracious. But my heart… it is elsewhere.
Her brow furrowed, though her voice remained gentle.
— Elsewhere? With whom?
Andrew looked away, the weight of secrecy pressing on him.
— Someone who sees me not as a prince, but simply as Andrew.
Diana studied him, her expression thoughtful.
— Then she must be extraordinary. Few people see beyond the crown.
At dinner, Queen Elyandra watched them closely, her eyes sharp.
— You two seem quiet, she remarked. Surely there is much to speak of. Diana, tell Andrew of Valoria’s gardens. He should know what beauty awaits him there.
Diana smiled politely, though she glanced at Andrew with a flicker of sympathy.
— Our gardens are vast, filled with lilies and fountains. But beauty means little if one’s heart is not at peace.
The queen’s lips tightened.
— Peace comes from duty, child. And duty will bind you both, in time.
Andrew’s jaw clenched, but he remained silent.
Later, in the library, Diana approached him again.
— Your mother wishes for us to spend time together. I cannot refuse her. But I see the sadness in your eyes, Andrew. Tell me what do you truly want?
He closed his book, meeting her gaze.
— I want freedom. To choose whom I love. To walk a path not written by treaties and crowns.
Diana’s voice softened.
— Then you are braver than most princes. Many accept their fate without question.
Andrew shook his head.
— Bravery? Or foolishness? Perhaps both. But I cannot betray my heart.
She leaned closer, her tone almost conspiratorial.
— Then keep your secret well. I will not betray you. But know this your mother will not rest until she binds you to me.
Days passed, each one heavier than the last. Andrew fulfilled his duties, walking beside Diana, listening to her stories, smiling when expected. Yet inside, bitterness grew. Every laugh felt hollow, every gesture rehearsed.
One evening, as they sat by the fountain, Diana spoke again.
— Andrew, I may be the queen’s choice, but I am not blind. You look at me with courtesy, not affection. Whoever she is… she must mean much to you.
Andrew’s voice trembled.
— She does. More than I can say. With her, time feels alive. Here, it feels… trapped.
Diana’s eyes softened with compassion.
— Then hold on to that feeling. Even if the crown tries to take it from you. Perhaps one day, you will find a way to keep both, duty and love.
Andrew looked at her, surprised.
— You speak as though you understand.
She smiled faintly.
— Because I do. I too have someone I care for, far from these halls. But like you, I am bound by expectation. We are not so different, Andrew.
That night, Andrew returned to his chambers, his heart heavy. The palace clocks ticked steadily, but their rhythm felt cruel. He thought of Anabella, of her laughter, of the promise he had made.
Yet now, another presence filled his days, Diana, beautiful and kind, yet a reminder of chains he could not escape.
In the shadows of the palace, Queen Elyandra whispered to her governess:
— He resists, but time will bend him. He cannot defy the crown forever.
But Andrew, staring out his window toward the city, whispered to himself:
— I will not let time erase her. Not Anabella. Not us.
The clocks ticked on, steady yet uncertain, as if the kingdom itself held its breath.