180: Polite people in the carriage

Polite people in the carriage

Music Recommendation: Tea Later - Nathan Barr

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Raylen was washing the blood from his hands when the head servant entered the room. She informed him, 

"Master Raylen, the princess was looking for you."

Grabbing a cloth, he used it to wipe his hands dry before turning to look at her, and remarked, "Sounds very unlike the princess to look for me. Was the room or the food not to her taste?" 

"It wasn't about that. She wanted to know why you asked her to be ready tomorrow," Lauren replied, watching her master pick up his cigar and extinguish it in an ashtray. "Also, I believe she may be attempting to summon someone."

Raylen's grim gaze met the curious eyes of the maid before he ordered, 

"Clean this table and throw the bones to the hound. Have the other one set up before I return," and stepped out of the room. His black shoes made a clicking sound against the white marble floor as he strode towards Emily's room. Upon reaching her door, he turned the doorknob and entered the room. His perfectly arched eyebrows lifted in response to the brightness, and he remarked, 

"Are you trying to manifest the sun in here?" 

Emily was in the process of lighting the last candle when his voice startled her, and her hand moved forward, causing her to accidentally burn herself instead of the candle's wick. She winced in pain before turning around to meet his eyes. She said, 

"In Versailles, it is considered basic manners to knock before entering a room, especially when it belongs to a woman."

"In the Storm Kingdom, we have locks in place to prevent anyone from entering a room. You should try using them; we wouldn't want any unwanted intruders entering unannounced," Raylen responded, turning to look at the door. 

"Thank you for the reminder," Emily said, before muttering, "You are lucky I wasn't in the middle of undressing when you barged in, or I would have reported it." She caught a subtle smile on the archdemon's face in response to her words. 

"I have no interest in undeveloped children. I prefer them ripened, so there's nothing for you to fret about," Raylen responded. "And your brother is the last thing I want to tackle."

Emily took a deep breath, realising that the more she reacted, the more pleasure he took at her expense. One would think remaining silent would be sufficient to divert this chaotic man, but it was the way he regarded her with smugness that caused a vein to visibly pop on her forehead. She then said, 

"Do you have to be so…"

"Rude?" 

"I don't think that is enough to cover it," Emily retorted, turning away from him and resuming lighting the last candle before carefully setting it on the stand. 

"Wasn't that what you wanted, Princess?" Raylen asked her in a soothing tone. "Raw, unfiltered honesty, when I warned you. I thought you would be pleased." 

Emily cursed herself for unwittingly digging a grave for herself with it. However, in her defence, she had met numerous gentlemen who had been accommodating and well-mannered, unlike this one. Normally, when she expressed her displeasure, people adjusted their behaviour accordingly and stopped. Yet, in Raylen's case, it was almost as if he had discovered a source of amusement in her discomfort. 

She recalled the words he had spoken to her in the past. 

'For someone who doesn't like flattery, you sure smile a lot, even though you don't mean it,' Raylen said courteously. 

'I smile out of politeness, whereas you tend to embellish things with deceitful words,' Emily replied, and she attempted to disengage from the conversation by turning on her heel. 

'I must disagree with you,' Raylen interjected, halting her departure. 'My words don't harm anyone, yet they seem to bother you. There's nothing wrong with offering a few words of encouragement when they're needed. If my words are deceitful, your smile is too. In some ways, we are alike. You hadn't realised it, had you?'

Emily was on the verge of speaking when she paused, staring at him with a hint of incredulity before offering him a polite smile, saying,

'Forgive me. I stand corrected; I was wrong, and you are right.' However, by that point, Raylen had already found a spot to dig and figuratively bury her in, something he found agreeable. 

There was a twinkle in his eyes, and perhaps Emily should have considered running away at that moment. He remarked, 'Your life is short; you shouldn't be so uptight. Most princesses are, so don't take offence.'

Emily couldn't believe that she was now staying under his roof. She had secretly hoped that her younger brothers would emulate her eldest brother, a gentleman with strong moral values, rather than turn out like the Storm Prince. 

She realised that Raylen wasn't dressed as she had frequently seen him in the past or when he had come to collect her. He wore brown trousers and a white full-sleeved shirt, with the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows. The suspenders dangled loosely below his waist and at the sides.

Due to the number of candles burning in the room, she caught sight of smudges on his clothing. She asked him, "Were you painting?" 

Raylen quickly glanced down at his clothes before his eyes met hers, wondering if she was giving him the benefit of the doubt. He replied, "Sure." He then shifted his attention back to the candles and asked, "What's the deal with all these candles? If you are attempting any kind of summoning, it isn't going to work." 

"I am not trying to summon anything," Emily responded to him, realising she should have waited for their conversation to finish before lighting all the candles. "I just prefer my room to be well-lit."

"Sure," Raylen replied as if he accepted her explanation, though his watchful eyes told a different story, revealing a lingering suspicion. Despite the existence of a peace treaty between their respective kingdoms, he didn't completely trust or believe her. Both kingdoms were ruled by archdemons, and demons were never to be trusted. 

"You wanted me to be ready tomorrow morning. Why?" Emily asked him. 

"You are in the Storm Kingdom now, and if you are attending the gathering, you will need suitable attire and not what you typically wear in your homeland," Raylen explained to her, and Emily couldn't help but be impressed by his thoughtfulness. Here she was, cursing him for no rea— "We wouldn't want an odd duckling attracting unnecessary attention when we are trying to find you a suitable husband."

Emily brushed off the last part of his words as if she hadn't heard him and asked, "Why did you say earlier if I attempted to summon something, it wouldn't work?" 

The smile on Raylen's face faded slightly as if he were trying to read her. He explained, "That's because I have placed invisible barriers and markings, which make it impossible for anyone to be summoned or to apparate here without my explicit permission."

His words caused her to frown. Was that what happened when Migdre abruptly vanished from her sight? It seemed like this demon ran a tight ship here, wanting to keep everything under his control, Emily contemplated. 

"I believe that was all you wished to discuss?" Raylen questioned her, and she responded by giving him a nod. 

"Yes. That was all."

"Wonderful. I will meet you at the entrance at ten, then," Raylen responded, and Emily saw his eyes sweep across her room before he added, "Goodnight, Princess."

"Goodnight, King Raylen," Emily replied with a polite bow. 

As Raylen started to exit the room, Emily followed him to the door, and once he stepped out, she secured the lock and made her way to her bed. She let out a relaxed sigh, revelling in the solitude of her own space and company. And with Raylen gone, she could hear the faint sound of the rumbling of clouds in the sky outside. When her gaze shifted to the heavens, she observed the faraway clouds lighting from within. 

Emily took shelter in her bed, pulling the quilt snugly around her as she sat reading a book until her eyelids grew heavy in the presence of the still-burning candles, their wax slowly melting away. When the wicks touched the candle bases, they extinguished one after another, ushering in darkness along with dreams for the princess. 

In her dream, Emily found herself running through the heart of the forest. The soles of her feet were wounded and bleeding from the thorns she stepped on as she ran, and she could hear footsteps following her from behind. But no matter how fast she fled, the lurking shadows eventually closed in and seized her.

"…!" Emily gasped, her eyes snapping open to a new day in the Storm Kingdom. And even though she knew it had been just a dream, she could still feel her heart racing and throbbing in her ears. 

"Princess Emily, you are awake. Good morning to you," Julia greeted her, drawing the curtains wide open to let light flood in before inquiring, "Would you like to drink something before your bath?" 

"I think I will bathe first."

"I will prepare the bath right away," Julia stated before walking to the bathtub. "Did you sleep well, milady? The weather was quite cold, wasn't it?" She wore a warm smile. Now that they were away from the Blackthorn Palace and her mother's scrutinising gaze, the maid spoke a little bit more freely than usual. 

"It was colder than what we are accustomed to," Emily hummed, pushing the blanket aside and placing her feet on the fur mat. She added, "I hope your bed was cosy and you had a warm blanket."

"It was, milady. It has been a while since I slept that well," her maid responded. "King Raylen is truly generous, isn't he? He had the head maid ensure I was taken care of. So kind of him," she praised, and Emily merely hummed in response. 

"But the man named Westley," Julia whispered, lowering her volume. "He scares me. He stares without blinking, and for a moment last night, I mistook him for a statue."

"They are all demons here," Emily responded, and the maid frowned, her lips tightening. 

"But people back in Versailles don't act that way," the maid said. 

"It is probably because the demons here are pureblooded demons. Not the ones born in this realm, but born in the underworld," Emily explained to her maid, who appeared frightened upon hearing this information. She had noticed the subtle differences between the residents of this castle and those from her home, and she wasn't sure whether it was due to cultural differences or their inherent nature. 

When it was time for breakfast, Emily didn't shy away by staying in her room, even though she had no company in the dining room aside from the maids. She took a seat and finished her meal before making her way to the castle entrance. 

"Princess Emily, Master awaits you in the carriage," Westley said as he appeared before her at the entrance. The man was lean with a gaunt appearance, and had eerie, gloomy eyes that stared without blinking. 

Emily was escorted to the awaiting carriage, its door already open. Soon, she stepped inside the vehicle and found herself face to face with Raylen. He didn't utter a word but only stared at her, which made her wonder whether she had unintentionally said something she wasn't supposed to the previous night. Had something affected his mood? 

She was living under his roof, and the least she could do was express gratitude and display the courtesy her mother had instilled in her. 

"Morning greetings to you, King Raylen," Emily greeted him politely with a bow. 

"Morning greetings to you too." Raylen's words sounded clipped, and when she turned to look at the closing door, he added, "Your precious maid will ride at the back with my precious servant."1

Emily discerned the slight shift in the carriage's balance originating from the rear, prompting her to take a seat beside him. She felt his eyes on her, or more precisely, on the dress she was wearing, before turning to look ahead. 

"Start the carriage," Raylen ordered the coachman, who promptly set the four horses and the attached carriage in motion. 

"Where are we going?" Emily inquired, wondering if she would have the opportunity to explore the various parts of the Storm Kingdom. 

"Bramsfield. It is a place most ladies around here visit for shopping. You will find plenty of seamstresses there, along with their ready-made dresses, if you want to buy any," Raylen replied, with his legs crossed one over the other. 

"And what about you?" Emily inquired cautiously, as if she were still gauging his current mood. 

"Me? I am an old-fashioned demon who has his own personal tailor. Are you thinking of dressing me up, Princess?" Raylen playfully teased her with a chuckle. He noticed her shoulders relax, and then asked, "How is your hand? You burnt it yesterday."

"It was just a tiny flame. Nothing to worry about," Emily replied, hiding the hand in question behind the other. 

"Glad to know. I thought you might want to report it to your brother," Raylen stated with a straight face, though the mirth in his eyes was evident, prompting Emily to shift her gaze to the scenery outside the window. She said, 

"I would like to pay a visit to my uncle and aunt this week. May I borrow the carriage for that?" 

"Let Westley know when you wish to go, and it will be arranged," Raylen replied to her request. He watched her gaze at the sky and remarked, "Always so polite." 

Emily returned her gaze to him and said, "I could say the same."

"I believe our politeness stems from different motives," Raylen remarked, a faint curl forming at one corner of his lips. 

The rest of the ride passed in silence, allowing Emily to take in a closer view of the fresh scenery. It took more than forty minutes before they finally arrived at the town named Bramsfield. As the carriage slowed down, Emily noticed some of the onlookers casting curious glances at the fanciful carriage, and she questioned, 

"May I ask something without causing offence?" 

"You don't have to request permission to ask. What do you want to know?" Raylen asked her. 

Emily hesitated for a moment before inquiring, "How do people here perceive you?" 

"A very odd question to pose to a king," Raylen remarked, and though he didn't appear offended, his eyes narrowed subtly. "Your question will be answered soon."

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