Chapter 23 : Beneath the Petals, Beneath the Veil
Chapter 23
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Bright blue eyes fluttered shut, then slowly revealed themselves once more—glacial, deliberate, as if heavy with purpose.
“I have something you need to protect.”
His breath deepened, and though his voice held a calmness, there was an edge beneath it—cold enough to stir a ripple of dread in me.
“It’s true,” he continued, “that all spatial restrictions are lifted the moment you become the Duchess of this household.”
I couldn’t even muster a nod. My body had gone stiff, wrapped in apprehension.
“But,” he added, eyes fixed on mine, “I hope you refrain from setting foot in the basement.”
“The west wing’s basement?” I asked cautiously.
Johannes gave a slow nod.
Why only the basement?
And just like that, the shadows of every macabre tale I’d ever heard surged forward in my imagination—stories passed in whispers, in firelight, in warnings. Bluebeard. The locked door. The blood.
I narrowed my eyes.
“…You do realize how suspicious that sounds, don’t you? Is there something down there I’m not meant to see?”
My voice dropped an octave.
“A hidden corpse? A deranged prisoner?”
The corners of Johannes’ mouth twitched. The mask of ice cracked. Then—surprisingly—he laughed.
“My wife-to-be certainly has a vivid imagination. Is that how you see me?”
It was a genuine laugh. One I hadn’t seen before.
“Well,” I shrugged, “you’re someone who always gets what he wants. After all, you married me, didn’t you?”
Johannes arched an eyebrow but did not refute the claim. A quiet acceptance, perhaps.
“Just tell me why, then. Why can’t I go in?”
“No particular reason. It’s just dark, dusty, filled with important archives. No sunlight. Nothing more.”
A mundane excuse, cloaked in grandeur. Still, something inside me remained unconvinced.
“And you’re sure there’s no other reason?”
“None,” he said with finality.
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And then—
“It’s been a while, Johannes.”
A mellow, low voice sliced through the air behind me.
I turned.
A tall man strode toward us, clad in a sharply tailored charcoal suit. His pale blond hair slicked back to reveal delicate, aristocratic features. He bore an uncanny resemblance to Johannes—but where Johannes was ice, this man was fog, sad and shifting.
And Johannes… his entire expression shifted. A rare crack in the glacial composure.
“So it seems.”
His voice was icier than I’d ever heard it.
“I see no harm in attending the wedding of my only cousin,” the man replied smoothly.
Cousin?
“I never imagined we’d meet again—especially not like this.”
He was mocking. No doubt about it. His words were cloaked in civility, but each syllable dripped with hidden thorns.
“Johannes Schulz, once believed to have no interest in women at all, is finally marrying.”
His eyes slid to me, and a grin curled across his face. Instinctively, I stepped closer to Johannes.
The man continued, utterly unfazed.
“So those rumors were false, then? The ones claiming you preferred men? I never believed them, of course.”
His words were poison. Beautifully delivered.
“What a tragic loss it would’ve been—to see the Schultz line end after only four generations.”
Johannes opened his mouth as if to reply—but stopped. His eyes flicked toward me, and he swallowed his retort.
“Do you still misunderstand me so deeply?”
“I’m afraid I have little time to dedicate to thoughts of you.”
The man laughed. A dry, bitter sound.
“Still merciless, I see. That hasn’t changed. But I suppose if your personality is intact, then everything else is as it should be.”
With casual cruelty, he tapped Johannes once on the chest with his index finger, then gestured to the top of his head.
I blinked, unsettled by the heaviness in the air.
Finally, the man turned to me.
“Forgive my late introduction. Congratulations on your marriage. I am Edward Windsor.”
My breath caught.
Windsor.
No citizen of Docilia would fail to recognize that name.
A prince.
Before I could speak, he addressed me again.
“You seem uncomfortable.”
Had I been frowning? I hadn’t noticed.
“Oh—no. I’m sorry. I was late in introducing myself. Then, Your Highne—”
“No need for formalities,” Johannes interrupted curtly.
Edward, unbothered, simply smiled and continued as if reading from a script.
“I’m attending today not as royalty, but as the Chief of Police in Barden. Treat me accordingly.”
So refined. So diplomatic. But beneath it all… who knew what truly stirred in him?
He continued with a glint in his eye.
“It suits you, Johannes.”
Johannes tilted his head, unamused.
“No need for hostility. Truly.”
“What do you want, Edward?”
“To offer an apology, of sorts. The begonia—those flowers at your wedding—were chosen solely by His Majesty.”
“Begonia,” Johannes echoed, expression unreadable.
Edward’s eyes flickered, barely perceptible.
“Prince Windsor’s gardens are quite famous in Docilia,” Johannes added flatly.
Ah.
So he knew. Of course he did.
“Yes, well… It’s true the flowers came from my garden, but—”
Edward’s voice turned theatrical.
“I, a man drowning in police work, still chose to represent a royal family you loathe. A gesture of goodwill. Yet you remain so cruel.”
“When will this narcissism of yours be cured?” Johannes said dryly, eyebrow arched.
Edward grinned.
“I merely wished to see what kind of woman could ensnare Johannes Schulz. We are family, after all.”
“In name only,” Johannes muttered.
“Harsh,” Edward replied with a chuckle, stepping closer to me.
His eyes searched mine—those stormy gray eyes, dense with secrets.
Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back.
“You exceeded expectations. I understand now.”
Whatever flicker of smugness was on his face disappeared when Johannes spoke next:
“Now that your curiosity is satisfied, I believe your personal errand here is complete.”
Edward laughed.
“You still have a gift for ushering people out without ever asking them to leave.”
I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me.
He was, in a word—infuriating.
Polished on the outside, but lined with thorns.
A prince through and through.
“Princess?”
“…Yes?”
“Why the glare? Were you just cursing me in your head?”
I raised a brow, unsure how to respond.
“Ha?”
Edward leaned slightly forward, scrutinizing me.
Then smiled.
“Thought so.”
I must learn to manage my expressions.
After all, he was royalty.
One wrong gesture, one poorly timed thought, and I could bring trouble—not only to myself but to Johannes.
Even knowing that… I couldn’t quite hide my irritation.
Blame the cold.
As I struggled to compose my face, Edward gave a theatrical sigh.
“Don’t look so heartbroken. I know I’m insufferable.”
Adjusting his cravat with flourish, he added with a gaze that pierced through me:
“You have very… unusual eyes.”
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