Page 70 of The White King's Favorite

Despite what she said, hearing her speak to him again brought a wave of relief to Ashen. He nodded faintly, but he knew she really was angry. He had rarely seen her angry before, but Cessilia was almost as scary as her father when she was mad, and he’d rather not do that to her again.

If he had hoped they could talk again, he was mistaken. She pushed him away from her and began to move to walk back inside, keeping her hands wrapped around herself. She visibly didn’t dare to touch his fur cape around her, although she wouldn’t take it off either.

“Cessilia!” he insisted, dying to grab her wrist again and have her stay there.

She stopped her steps, but she was already turned away from him, leaving Ashen to stare at her back again.

“I meant it,” he continued. “I’m sorry. And I’m not mad at you. ...Can we talk? Not here, but...”

Cessilia turned her head, just enough that he could see her eye glaring at him between her drenched locks.

“We’ll t-talk when you’re d-done feeling sorry j-just for yourself.”

Those words took Ashen by surprise, and he didn’t react to it fast enough to prevent her from leaving again. He wanted to call her again and quickly tried to think of something to say.

“Your scales.”

Cessilia stopped again, just a couple of steps away from the door. This time, though, she didn’t look back. Ashen took a deep breath.

“...They weren’t black before. Cece’s scales weren’t dark. ...Cessilia, what happened to your dragon?”

He saw her shoulders quickly rise from her breathing, but it might have been due to the storm and the wind blowing against her body. She was hesitating, but before Cessilia could answer, the door she was trying to get to slowly opened.

Jisel’s appearance cut their conversation short. His mistress stood there, carrying an umbrella and a towel, glancing at the two of them. Despite Cessilia glaring at her, the redhead kept her usual mischievous smile on, unphased. Then, Cessilia directed her glare at Ashen and stormed off, angrily walking past his mistress.

Cessilia walked back into the hall drenched, upset, and very disturbed.

Luckily, another number was going on in the middle of the banquet, and despite the storm raging, no one seemed to notice her but Yassim, who hurried to her from a few steps away, visibly worried.

“My lady!” he whispered. “You’re completely drenched! Are you alright?”

“Cessi, what the heck?” Tessa appeared behind him. “You were outside in that storm?”

For a few seconds, she couldn’t speak, completely disoriented. Her head felt a bit dizzy, and she just shook it, her voice too tight to speak. During that time, Yassim’s eye fell on the fur cloak on her shoulders, and he glanced toward the throne, where the King was also coming back to his seat. Just like the Princess, he was drenched and sat quietly with a sullen expression.

“Yassim, is there a room where we can take a break?” Tessa muttered. “I think Cessi could use a break... and a dry towel or two.”

“No.”

Cessilia pushed her cousin’s hand away and directed her eyes to the center of the banquet hall, where another one of the candidates was bowing to the crowd.

“Yassim, p-please introduce me. I want t-to do my p-performance now.”

“Are you sure, my lady?” Yassim asked, a bit worried. “You’re completely drenched.”

“Yes. N-now.”

Yassim and Tessa exchanged a look, but they could tell the Princess was set on her decision. Not only that, but she was wearing the King’s fur cape he had on previously, and they could roughly guess something had happened between the two. Despite the entertainment provided by another one of the candidates in the middle of the room, it was clear the King’s absence hadn’t gone unnoticed, and now, more glances were going their way, trying to make sense out of the drenched Princess’ short absence. Some were whispering and not even trying to conceal their suspicious stares, even when Tessa glared back. Perhaps it was indeed better for her cousin to take a stance now.

“...Fine,” muttered Tessa. “I was getting bored of this shitshow anyway. We might as well provide the entertainment ourselves...”

Above them, the sounds of thunder got louder, and a few worried glances went to the windows, the rain pelting against the glass. The storm was getting worse outside, and some servants quietly went to check the doors to the balcony, the same ones Cessilia had just come back from, to make sure they would hold. It was clear no one could go outside now.

Nobody in the room would have considered it anyway. Instead, they were all absorbed in the foreigner’s strange appearance, and the way her body slowly moved toward the center of the banquet hall. Despite being drenched, Cessilia had lost none of her beauty, and if anything, the droplets running down her dress made it even shinier. The fur cloak she had kept on was also gathering some attention, with some people glancing the King’s way before going back to her.

Cessilia wasn’t looking at any of them, though. Instead, she had her eyes on the floor, as if she deliberately avoided staring at anyone, and kept walking until she found herself in the center of the room. Only then did she finally raise her head to glance at the audience.

“Introducing Lady Cessilia, Imperial Princess of the Dragon Empire,” said Yassim’s voice behind her, loud enough for all to hear. “First daughter of the War God and Water Goddess.”

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