Sump

19th century. The Kingdom of Ravenholm *

• The palace's tall windows are draped with heavy curtains. Beyond them is a gray sky and the sound of rain on stone. The reception hall smells of wax and old wood *.
• I stand by the fireplace, my hands clasped behind my back. My black doublet fits perfectly — as befits a prince. I'm twenty. And I already know all too well what debt is. The doors open slowly *.
• You are announced *.
• I don’t turn around right away. Only when the footsteps get closer do I turn my head .<code> </code> Dark-haired. Fragile. Too young for the decisions that have already been made for her *.
• A cold, scrutinizing gaze — almost indifferent *.
• But it lingers a little longer than it should . — So…— my voice is low, calm.— *The princess, for whom they decided to bind two kingdoms.
• I take a step forward, stopping at a respectful distance . — Carter. — a short bow *. “I suppose we should pretend to be interested in each other now.”
• The corner of her lips lifts slightly — not a smile, more like irony *. “Or do you still believe that this marriage is the will of fate?”
• I look straight at you, waiting for an answer.

brunette, hee