Looking for a Husband to Confine Me - Chapter 25.2
Chapter 25.2
Her expression remained unchanged, perfectly composed. Even more surprising was Haroon Kisha’s indifference to Ray’s remark.
Despite the clear disrespect to a prince, he seemed unfazed. In fact, he appeared to relish her defiance.
As we approached the princes, the faces of their attending knights came into view. I easily spotted Ricardo and exchanged a brief, silent greeting.
Keliard stood beside him, but I ignored him completely, unlike Rettie, who was eager to catch his eye.
As I took the vacant seat opposite Haroon Kisha, the felines sauntered over, sniffing the air.
“Eeek!” Rettie gasped, freezing in place.
Perhaps my time with the snakes had desensitized me; I felt no fear. Surely, they wouldn’t allow dangerous animals to roam freely.
Still, I feigned apprehension, stiffening slightly.
“He-help me…”
Haroon chuckled at Rettie’s trembling voice. “No need to be afraid. They won’t hurt you. They’re very well-trained.”
There were at least ten of these ‘well-trained’ creatures in the room alone, and likely more elsewhere in the mansion.
“They won’t attack unprovoked, so you can relax.” Ray continued, “They only obey the princes, or rather, anyone with Kishan royal blood. And the reason they’re here now is…”
“Because I don’t trust the Lefkind Empire’s knights. I brought my own protection for Bashar and myself.” Haroon interrupted, cutting Ray off.
She remained impassive, unperturbed by his words or his dismissive tone.
“Let them sniff you. They’ll get used to your scent.”
“Ooh, eeek!” Rettie shuddered, pressing closer to me.
“Rettie? Don’t sit so close.”
“J-just a moment. I’m scared…” Unable to push her away while she trembled, I reluctantly allowed her to cling to me.
‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought her.’
Rettie Hazel’s ambition was blatant, even to me. She was seeking a way out of her family’s predicament, and clearly intended to use me to achieve it.
While her fear seemed genuine, knowing her true nature left a bitter taste in my mouth.
‘…Huh?’
My eyes met those of one of the felines circling us. It hesitated, then backed away slowly. I had simply stared back at its intense gaze…
‘What was that reaction?’
The animal’s apparent fear puzzled me. My gaze shifted to Bashar, who had been watching the scene unfold. Before I could offer an awkward smile, he quickly looked away.
‘This is proving difficult.’
Unlike Luke Randy, with whom I already had a connection, or Damian, whose peculiar friendliness had bridged the gap, or Ricardo Div, with whom conversation had flowed easily, Bashar remained distant, our interactions minimal.
“The beasts aside, may I ask why you have handmaidens dressed as dancers, Your Highness?” Ray’s voice, laced with boredom rather than coldness, cut through the air.
The dancers flinched at her gaze, then discreetly retreated. Haroon grinned as soon as she finished speaking. “I’m bored. Like I said, this place is tedious.”
“Even so…”
“I was merely seeking some entertainment while I waited.” Lounging on the sofa, Haroon Kisha’s tone was playful. An unspoken tension hung between them.
Haroon’s gaze, which had been fixed on Ray, shifted to me. “Oh dear, I’ve been terribly rude to my guest. My apologies.”
“Not at all, Your Highness.”
“I invited you today to express my gratitude for saving my brother, Bashar.”
Bashar, his name mentioned, offered a curt nod. “So please, Lady Amelia, relax and enjoy yourself.”
“Thank you.”
“You too, Kewind. Have a seat.”
Haroon’s words sailed past me, landing on Ray Kewind. A faint crease appeared between her brows at the sound of her name.
“I refuse, Your Highness. I’m on duty.”
“Does that mean it would be possible after your shift?”
“It’s impossible outside of duty hours as well.”
Despite Ray’s frosty response, Haroon didn’t seem offended. Ray, too, responded with practiced ease, as if this were a common occurrence. Though she did, of course, furrow her brows almost imperceptibly.
‘Haroon Kisha.’
His way of twisting words, the teasing lightness of his tone, the way he hid his true intentions behind a playful smile—it all reminded me of Damian.
I found myself studying the Kishan prince, thinking he and Damian would likely get along far too well.
Prince Haroon, who had come to the Empire to study alongside Bashar Kisha, was barely clinging to the line of succession. Because of this precarious position, I suspected he might be the one behind the attempt on Bashar’s life using Pazl.
