Looking for a Husband to Confine Me - Chapter 25.1
Chapter 25.1
I shook my head, trying to dispel the lingering feelings about Rettie.
Knights patrolled the mansion’s corridors, their vigilance palpable.
“Is it wise to allow outsiders in, so soon after… that incident?” I asked, trailing behind Ray. The attempted poisoning, the servant’s escape—it all felt too precarious to welcome strangers.
The princes’ mansion was heavily guarded, a fortress of watchful knights.
“It’s alright. You are the prince’s guest, his savior, in a way.”
“The person they should be thanking is Sir Damian, not me…”
I was merely there by chance; it was Damian who detected the poison. My presence was purely coincidental, a fact I tried to convey subtly.
“Damian dared to keep the princes waiting. He doesn’t deserve their gratitude.” The voice speaking of Damian was frigid.
“Some people have all the luck.” Rettie Hazel’s voice, almost a murmur, reached me as Ray led us through the mansion.
Rettie, initially captivated by the exotic architecture, seemed to have regained her composure.
“Luck that landed you in a place you don’t belong, wouldn’t you say?”
“Rettie.” At her barbed comment, I softly uttered her name. “Unless you want to leave right now, keep your mouth shut and follow.” I made sure to add, ‘I never gave you permission to speak freely.’
Rettie’s jaw tightened, her expression hardening. Yet, given our surroundings, she couldn’t easily unleash her anger.
We finally reached a reception room deep within the mansion. The room where the Kishan princes awaited us exuded a distinctly different atmosphere from any other reception room designed for guests.
‘This is less a reception room and more…’
Yes, considering its location within the mansion and the aura emanating from the door, it felt more like the entrance to a ballroom.
The interior confirmed this impression. The moment we entered, after announcing our arrival, sunlight flooded my vision, forcing me to squint.
“You’ve finally arrived.” The familiar deep voice—Haroon Kisha.
I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the brightness. As the room came into focus, I was taken aback.
“Wh-what is this?” Rettie, standing behind me, seemed equally astonished, her gasp echoing my own unspoken question.
“His Highness, Prince Haroon, has… unique tastes. He decorated the reception room himself. First-time visitors are often surprised.” Ray explained calmly, as if this reaction was commonplace.
Her words rang true. The vastness of the room, more ballroom than reception room, was bewildering.
Lush greenery filled the space, half indoors, half open to the elements. The open area was a carefully crafted natural landscape of trees, shrubs, flowers, and a pond. At the boundary between inside and out, I spotted shimmering magic stones.
Magic tools, powered by the stones, likely regulated the sunlight and prevented rain from entering the open area.
It must have cost a fortune. Such extravagant spending was almost obscene.
“I almost fell asleep waiting.” Haroon Kisha’s voice drew my attention to the center of the room.
Luxurious, exotic fabrics draped from the ceiling, creating a shaded area over a plush sofa where Haroon Kisha lounged.
“Your Highness, this is Lady Amelia.”
“Your Highness.”
At Ray’s introduction, two pairs of golden eyes turned towards me. Darker skin than the people of the Lefkind Empire, jet-black hair—the brothers exuded an exotic aura.
I offered a formal greeting. Around Haroon, large felines prowled, and Kishan dancers, clad in their kingdom’s distinctive attire, stood nearby.
Ray frowned at the sight. To Haroon’s right sat Bashar Kisha, silent.
At the previous ball, Haroon’s hair had been short, while Bashar’s long hair had been loosely tied back. Today, both sported long hair.
‘Are they wearing wigs?’ I wondered, gazing at Haroon’s dark hair cascading over his shoulder.
“And my apologies for the delay, Your Highness.”
Despite arriving early, I offered a polite apology in response to Haroon’s comment.
Ray, however, intervened, shaking her head. “There’s no need for you to apologize. He sits there idle most of the time anyway.”
…What? Is it really okay to speak to a prince that way? I glanced at Ray Kewind, bewildered.
