The Queen and the Lion - Chapter 19
Lysian lifted her head from Aslan’s shoulder and looked up at him. His sharp nose, the line of his lips, and the firm set of his jaw held a masculine, rugged charm. Though he had shaved early that morning, a light stubble had already begun to grow.
Lysian reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding Aslan’s arm and stroked his chin. She tickled his chin with her fingers as if petting a cat or dog, and Aslan leaned into her touch. Compared to when she had first tickled his chin and he’d flinched and pulled back, he seemed much more accustomed to it. First, she would keep him by her side, and then, little by little, she would make him dependent on her. That way, Aslan would enjoy being by her side. Lysian nodded to herself, pleased with her wise decision.
Lysian and Aslan’s eyes met. Aslan’s eyes flickered with uncertainty.
Lysian was momentarily taken aback. Why was he so uneasy? Was he worried that she would send him back to Heiban? Did he want to leave me that much? Her mind raced with chaotic thoughts. Lysian, who had never been rejected, found Aslan’s behavior displeasing. That’s why she smiled even more sweetly.
“Since the Heiban prince is coming, it’s perfect timing. A marriage alliance wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
Lysian chuckled. As a prince and an envoy, he would have considerable influence in Heiban. With his approval, Aslan would definitely be hers.
Perhaps she should go through with a wedding on this occasion and keep Aslan in Florea permanently. With that thought, Lysian smiled brightly.
However, contrary to her excited thoughts, Aslan’s heart sank at the mention of a marriage alliance.
Lysian had said it purely with Aslan in mind, but Aslan didn’t see it that way. He had already felt uneasy when Lysian had asked about the second prince, and now the topic of a marriage alliance had come up. Did that mean Lysian was going to marry the second prince to form an alliance?
The second prince of Heiban was handsome and capable, and even younger than Aslan. As far as he knew, he was twenty-four. A perfect age for the eighteen-year-old Lysian. For a moment, he imagined Lysian marrying the second prince. Aslan wanted to shout and stop her immediately.
The thought of Lysian marrying another man made his face contort and his heart pound. However, no matter how frustrated he was, Aslan, in his position, couldn’t plead with her or even voice such a wish.
Despite Lysian’s kindness, Aslan objectively viewed his situation as nothing more than a foreign prisoner.
Lysian was the queen of Florea, and the man by her side would be the kingdom’s consort.
Aslan was neither a high-ranking noble of Florea nor even royalty from a foreign land. Although he had risen to a high position due to his swordsmanship, Aslan had been of humble origins in Heiban. Far from being considered for a peace treaty, his social status was so far removed from Lysian’s that he couldn’t even dare to meet her gaze if they weren’t on a battlefield. His status was so low that he couldn’t even be included on the envoy list without an excuse like being a bodyguard.
For someone like him to aspire to the position of consort was absurd.
As Aslan continued to dwell on these thoughts, Lysian’s arm wrapped around his neck, and her lips drew near.
However, Aslan had a different thought this time. Wouldn’t she be just as affectionate with another man? This beautiful flower queen wasn’t mine. A lion of the battlefield only knows how to trample flowers. It is the butterflies and bees of the same flower kingdom that can nurture and propagate flowers, not a lion.
The most he could do was to hover around the flower and watch. Aslan convinced himself again and again.
“Know your place.”
He muttered to himself.
