The Prince's Arranged Marriage-Chapter 21: Hate Me

As the car rolled out of Emberlyn, Lucien gazed out at the shifting landscape, his thoughts as restless as the flickering flames that had illuminated the city the night before. Emberlyn had been unlike anywhere they had visited—a place of passion and artistry, of unrestrained energy and ceaseless movement. And in the heart of that fire, he had found something unexpected: a moment of ease with Alexander, unmarred by the weight of their engagement or the bitterness of old wounds. The realization unsettled him. Was he allowing himself to soften? He reminded himself of every reason he resented Alexander, of the cold distance that had always existed between them.

Now, they were bound for Shadowfen, a city built upon a labyrinth of canals, where mist curled over dark waters and lanterns cast wavering golden reflections in their depths. The moment they crossed into its borders, the air grew heavy with the scent of damp earth and the faint, briny tang of the wetlands. Shadowfen was a city of mystery and whispered legends, where ivy-clad stone bridges arched over waterways that snaked through the heart of its ancient streets. Fog rolled in from the marshlands, clinging to the city like an ethereal shroud, muting the colors of the world and making the gas-lit lamps glow like phantom fires.

Lucien let his gaze wander as they passed through the city, the buildings a blend of old-world elegance and creeping nature. Moss clung to worn stone facades, and the architecture seemed half-swallowed by the dense vegetation that surrounded it. The streets bustled with an energy different from Emberlyn's fiery passion—this was a quieter, more enigmatic rhythm, where masked figures wove through the crowds and street performers spun tales of ghosts and long-forgotten kings. The marketplace was alive with hushed conversations, merchants selling charms against ill fortune, and alchemists brewing concoctions that shimmered in the dim light.

"You're staring again," Alexander said, his voice laced with amusement.

Lucien exhaled, dragging his attention back to his companion. "Can you blame me? This place feels like something out of a story."

Alexander nodded. "Shadowfen has always held a certain allure. It thrives on secrets, on the things left unsaid."

Lucien hesitated before speaking again. "I was convinced you would hate this tour."

Alexander raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

Lucien smirked, though the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. "Because I was sure you hated me."

For a moment, Alexander didn't reply, his expression unreadable. Lucien, emboldened by the silence, pressed further. "Did you?" he asked, searching Alexander's face. "Did you hate me?"

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Alexander's gaze flickered—just for a second—but instead of answering, he deftly changed the topic. "Look at that," he said, nodding toward a group of masked performers setting up in the marketplace. "I've heard their act is legendary."

Lucien narrowed his eyes but let it go. The evasion was answer enough.

Their itinerary led them to the city's grand forum, a place where scholars and merchants alike gathered to trade knowledge as much as goods. The air buzzed with conversation—animated debates on politics, philosophy, and the arcane arts interwoven like threads in a tapestry. Lucien found himself drawn into a discussion on the city's ancient history, and to his growing irritation, Alexander once again proved himself an adept conversationalist, effortlessly engaging with the scholars. He listened, arms crossed, as Alexander spoke of the lost kings of Shadowfen and the old myths that wove through the city like the very canals themselves.

Later that evening, as the mist thickened over the canals, they were invited to witness the annual Festival of Veiled Lights. Hundreds of floating lanterns were set adrift upon the water, their glow turning the canals into rivers of gold. Lucien stood at the edge of one such waterway, watching the lanterns bob and drift, their reflections shimmering in the darkness. The hush that fell over the crowd was reverent, the only sounds the gentle lapping of water and the occasional whisper of a wish being sent out into the world.

Alexander stood beside him, silent for a moment before speaking. "If you had to write a wish, what would it be?"

Lucien started to form a thought—an old wish, perhaps, or something new—but hesitated. He wasn't sure he wanted to say it aloud, wasn't sure he even knew what he wanted anymore. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe I don't need one tonight."

Alexander glanced at him, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. "Perhaps that's a wish in itself."

The next morning, they set out for Dawnmere, a city hidden deep within Veridian's forests. Towering trees stretched toward the sky, their canopies forming a natural cathedral where dappled sunlight painted the ground in shifting patterns. The deeper they ventured into the woods, the more the city revealed itself—homes built around an ancient temple dedicated to the kingdom's oldest faith. Pilgrims traveled from across Veridian to seek wisdom and enlightenment, and the city radiated an air of peace and mysticism. Wooden walkways and bridges connected structures seamlessly integrated into the landscape, as if they had always belonged there. Birds flitted between the branches, and the scent of pine and earth filled the air.

As they arrived in the city center, the sight of elegant, vine-covered manors greeted them, their wooden facades merging with the surrounding forest as if grown rather than built. The people here moved with a calm assurance, their lives entwined with the rhythm of the land. Skilled artisans carved intricate sculptures, while monks and scholars offered quiet blessings to those who passed. The marketplace felt almost like an extension of the temple grounds, the stalls made from carved logs, their goods displayed on woven mats of leaves and vines. The hum of quiet conversation, the soft rustling of the wind through the leaves—it was a far cry from the bustling marketplaces of Veridia or the intrigue-laden streets of Shadowfen.

Lucien found himself pausing at a stall displaying small wooden carvings of animals. His fingers traced the polished surface of a fox figurine, something about its craftsmanship stirring a faint nostalgia he couldn't quite place. He had no reason to buy it, yet he did, slipping it into his pocket before moving on.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Alexander remarked, noting Lucien's interest.

Lucien nodded. "It feels... peaceful."

Alexander gave him a knowing look. "Not a word I would have expected you to use."

They spent the afternoon walking the shaded streets, visiting the famed temple where ancient texts and relics were housed, each artifact telling a story of faith and perseverance. Lucien found himself drawn to the quiet reverence of the place, even as he resisted the urge to acknowledge how grounding it felt.

That night, as they stood at the edge of a secluded glade, the prince of Avaloria broke the silence. "If you had asked me months ago, I would have said you hated every moment of this tour."

Lucien smirked. "And now?"

Alexander's expression softened. "Now, I think you might actually be enjoying it."

Lucien hesitated, then met his gaze. "Maybe. But don't get used to it."

A breeze whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves like a hushed conversation. The fireflies flickered—uncertain, fleeting, like the thoughts Lucien refused to name. Alexander's quiet laughter lingered in the night air, and for the first time, Lucien wondered if he had been wrong about him all along. The thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit.