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13.51% Steal The Prince's Heart / Chapter 4: Too Much To Know

Kapitel 4: Too Much To Know

Noticing Frederick's intention to speak up, Myra turns her back to him and strolls off, no real direction in her mind. Deciding that it's awkward for a lady to not know her own home, she takes it as her responsibility to explore her family's mansion.

Myra eyes dart around, watching the walls with her careful eye, noting suspicious details, wherever they may be out in the open. Her head briefly throbs at the memory of breakfast, reminding her that there should be something she's searching for, something she's not exactly sure of. As far as she's concerned, her home is as generic as it can get to a mansion.

Truthfully, she's found it difficult throughout the morning to withhold her excitement, for the sake of not embarrassing herself and to also focus on more relevant matters on hand.

Along the way, growing overly-conscious of Frederick's tailing, she whips around on her heel. Raising an eyebrow at him cynically, she tries to dismiss Frederick so she can spend the time on her own, who only ignores her request saying that he "needs to protect her". It's at this point that she learns that her words likely won't get taken seriously without force, or sucking up to the Duke, which is far too terrifying of a step at this moment.

Myra, averting her mind back to the interiors of her home which still feels foreign, admires the rich design in the wallpaper, the sheer detail in the pillars holding up the walls. The Ruskin mansion, by rumour, is the largest and the most luxurious mansion in all of Fleurette, envied by other noble families that yearn for their level of comfort. Outside the mansion is an obsidian statue of Hades surrounded by rose shrubs. It exists in a form akin to a heavenly blessing.

The pathway leading out to pink-tinted gates is made of chiseled stone, cushioned by trimmed bushery. Leading out to the back of the mansion is a massive garden as well, decorated to enamor anyone who is fortunate enough to step foot in it. Sheltered by strong, tall-growing trees, Myra strolls under the shade of the canopies, jaw tickled by a gentle wind.

"This place feels so familiar to me, I wonder why," Myra lets out in a breathy voice. A feeling of fondness tugs at her heartstrings as she pauses in a spot giving her an almost perfect view of the garden. It's almost like she's used to this, to recognising this exact marble tile as compared to the other identical ones. Frederick cracks a knowing smile at this, pausing a distance away from her as the young lady wanders along the path of trimmed grass.

"It was designed to match the artists' representation of the Garden of Proserpine," he explains. "You were fond of this place since your birth and often asked to come here during your free time or when you were awfully stressed."

"Must explain it. It seems like my family's fond of Hades' mythology," she hums, leaning down to pluck a rose from the bush. She lifts it to her eye-level, scrutinizing it with cold eyes, twirling it with the bare touch of her fingers. Her gaze falls to a protruding thorn and curiously, gently, she runs her finger over it. It doesn't prick her finger the first time she tries.

Turning back to Frederick, she discards the rose, letting it waft to the ground. Not sparing one more thought to it, she thinks of visiting her siblings instead.

"Mind telling me where my brothers and sisters are? Other than Mariene, I've spoken to her already. I don't remember a lot about the rest of them."

"Is that so?" Frederick checks. "I'm afraid you won't be able to meet with young master Cole as he is preparing for an urgent trip to the far-west of Fleurette to check on one of the military territories. Lady Roseann… typically spends her time wherever her emotions take her. Her room is simply a corridor down from yours and I can have you meet her if you wish."

"I am the… third-born daughter of the family, correct?" Myra narrows her eyes in thought as her head throbs lightly. She softens her voice in surprise, wondering where the information is returning from. Frederick confirms this indifferently.

Myra follows in Frederick's steps, looking forward to meeting Roseann who, so far, seems as if she isn't the most fond of Myra's return or presence at the very least. Her interest is the curious kind, eager to see whether her sister belittles her or invites her formally, though she doesn't plan on intentionally getting on her sister's nerves, as far as that may get her with her nature.

"Jalen spends most of his time at the stables so you might only find him once evening falls. Marine, on the other hand, spends hours in the front garden doing her sketches when she's not busy with tuition," Frederick continues to ramble, which Myra has only half-heartedly listened to. On the way, Myra pauses in her tracks upon seeing one of the closed doors open slowly.

From it, emerges Cole, clad in a formal military uniform made with wool stained burgundy. It complements his dark orange, almost ginger hair and fierce expression. Myra stands frozen in his presence until he angles his head towards her, eyes widening in surprise.

A certain look flashes over his eyes when he sees his younger sister, something different from normal brotherly affection. It's more cold, selfish—so much so that Myra has to narrow her eyes.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Myra," he makes a warm expression of joy, striding towards her promptly.

Reaching out a hand to caress her face, to which Myra almost flinches, Cole mutters gently, "Apologies that I was unable to speak much to you this morning. I've been dispatched to take care of an unexpected problem that emerged in one of our camps. Will you be well? Did you come to see me yourself?"

"It's nothing important," Myra reassures. "I only came for a chat. I've been struggling to remember my circumstances from before I fell unconscious. Doctor Aren mentioned I was fine but it's odd as to why I can't recall too much."

Cole frowns at this, his eyes laced with worry. Releasing her, he takes a step back and lowers his head to adjust the glove on his hand. "Hm… I will return as soon as I can. Try not to fight too much with Roseann. I've asked her beforehand to accompany you to the, ahem," Cole makes a face of distaste here, "tea party. I'm sure Jalen will listen if you speak to him, that brat holds something against me whenever I ask him for a favour."

"I see, then. Have a safe trip, brother," Myra curtseys.

Cole nods, ruffling her hair affectionately as he passes her. His back faced to her, he cascades down the hall, carrying an immense ego with him similar to the Duke himself, and he comments once instead of 'goodbye', "Try your best to retrieve the previous sharpness you used to have. Humility isn't a respectable quality in the Ruskin family."

Myra stands dumbfounded, goosebumps prickling against the surface of her skin at the roar of his voice.

Frederick knocks on the entrance of a room two doors down and informs Myra, "Lady Roseann is in her room. She told you to enter promptly and does not want to be kept waiting any further, miss," he interjects amongst the muted sounds of Myra's ears.

A shiver running down her spine, she peels her gaze of Cole's distancing silhouette and scurries to Roseann's bedroom door left ajar.

"It's odd of you to drop by, Myra," Roseann turns her head from the window. Her silk curtains have been tucked to the sides of the glass door leading out to the balcony, allowing sunlight to penetrate through the decorated glass. It bathes Roseann's silhouette in an array of colours, painting her with ethereality. "I wonder where you get the courage from, or perhaps you've always been so calculative?" she glares.

"Unfortunately, I don't remember too much about what my life was like before I passed out," Myra comments simply, picking up a fountain pen from Roseann's table. She twirls it with her fingers expertly, sauntering around the room calmly.

Though she's in the presence of her older sister, she finds herself washed over by an unprecedented calmness and confidence. Though her memories are now scattered, it may be that her affections haven't changed.

"Likewise, I don't recall what it was like with you. That could change," Myra folds her arms, raising her chin. Roseann clenches her jaw, aggressively flipping her fan shut as pulls a strained grin onto her face. The skin around her eyes crinkle and suddenly, the room is cold.


AUTORENGEDANKEN
mirxkewl mirxkewl

"You can fly even higher." | Make sure to support this book and my first novel with powerstones and collections!

Kapitel 5: History Which Divides Us

"Don't trust that I'll be teasing you less just because you're awake. If anything, I'll be teasing you more for the time that I couldn't speak to you," Roseann responds with a smirk, a mischievous chuckle escaping her throat. "Is there anything you want to know?" she relents, lowering her fan from her face.

Myra purses her lips in thought. "I don't know. Can I know about the five noble families in Fleurette? Also, I was told something about a tea party at the Bougainvillea's home. I was wondering if I could get any information on them." Roseann's face falls at this request.

"God, you should've asked Cole about this kind of thing," she groans, flouncing forward and dramatically collapsing onto her bed with a thud.

"It's not like I could trust Jalen or Mariene with this information," Myra shrugs. Roseann admits her defeat as she turns her head away obstinately, patting the seat next to her on the bed.

Myra, eyes brightening with hope, skips over to the place with a jump in her step, taking a seat beside her sister eagerly. The previous edge she has in her voice ebbs away at Roseann's gradual gentleness but still, she maintains a reasonable distance between them.

"I'm going to go over this once, okay? That's all you're going to get from me," Roseann wags a finger to her face but even with her harsh tone, there is no bite to her words.

Under a lamp on her dresser, she gingerly pulls out an old sheet of paper, worn out with time. She spreads it against the bed, facing it towards Myra's side. Myra furrows her eyebrows, faintly recognising the map and the labelled locations. She pays close attention to Roseann's words.

"The Ruskin Mansion is located to the west of Fleurette. We own all the land around this area as well as the far south. Father's men are deployed across several plots of the land we own for our protection and to prepare for unprecedented circumstances," Roseann explains, dragging her finger along the massive map, highlighting the territory owned by their family.

Myra's eyes widen with surprise, though really, she shouldn't be knowing that her family has the most power and authority over Fluerette's kingdoms.

"The Bougainvillea mansion is somewhere… there," Roseann points towards the south, near a surrounding town.

"The other two aren't quite relevant to our family, if I have to be honest," Roseann drags her finger to the other side of the map. "The Orchid and Hibiscus are strong allies of each other and jointly own most of the land near the east. Their territories are divided by a river between each other, linked by a bridge which they built with equal resources, all that sappy nonsense," Roseann explains, voice monotonous and slightly bored.

Myra points at a wide spread of buildings towards northern Fleurette, curiosity piqued, "Which family owns that part?"

"Ah, that's where the royal family lives," Roseann hums nonchalantly. "We have tense relations with the Florence blood, it's a generational thing. I heard that the prince is looking for a bride soon, not that it matters very much to me nor the rest of us."

"Why?" Myra questions innocently and Roseann deadpans.

"We are an independent family which does not need to get our names mixed with the likes of other families. Now is a sensitive period for our family as we approach the summer solstice and you should consider knocking some common sense into your brain before the rest of them think you've become stupid," Roseann advises. Slapping the map close and folding it along the creases, Roseann rudely tosses the paper away and waves her hand dismissively. "If you come back here with stupid requests, I'll shoo you away."

"Does our family entertain violence?" Myra stands, looking pointedly at her older sister. Roseann lifts her fan to her face, closing her eyes.

"I don't respond to foolish questions," she replies. "You should know the message which is carved on our family's emblem."

Myra nods and turns on her heel, not wanting to say anything embarrassing. On her way out, as she places her hand on the handle of the door, Roseann announces loudly, "All is fair in love and war. The motto of our family."

The door closes itself behind her with an unexpected thud and once again, Myra finds herself back-pressed against it, trying to articulate her thoughts.

"I need to sleep, I'm exhausted," Myra laments but Frederick frowns, quickening his pace to catch up to her.

"Unfortunately, you can't sleep before it's evening. Your father doesn't allow it. Instead, I can provide you with tea to energise you and lead you to the library where you can study for the day. If necessary, I can inform you on your weekly itinerary," Frederick rambles as a matter-of-factly, counting off the information on his fingers.

Myra, pursing her lips in disappointment, pauses, expecting him to lead her the right way through to the library. Understanding her intentions, he leads her through the halls to the mansion's library.

"I'll leave you here to spend the day but feel free to let any of the maids know if you need anything," Frederick bows, excusing himself from the room. Myra turns on her heel slowly, eyes darting around the length of the library.

She scrunches her nose at the faint smell of old paper and stagnant dust, the permanent smell that remains in an academic room. It's empty at this point of time, with books left scattered on a spruce table in the center of the room. On it, there is spilled ink and a feather quill, telling Myra there should've been someone who spent their hours here before her.

Averting her gaze from it, Myra strolls to a cabinet much smaller than the rest, one that she could carry in her arms if she tried. It's stacked on another bookshelf about thrice its size, at eye-level height. With a diamond nettered pattern, it carries a selection of scrolls.

Myra, curious, gingerly picks one out of the selection, accidentally releasing a cloud of dust in the air. Waving her hand in front of her nose, she tumbles back, scrunching her nose in disgust. Raising her gaze, her eyes fall on a seven-feet long wall portrait of the Duke and a woman she doesn't recall seeing.

Unrolling the scroll, Myra frowns at the cursive writing on it. Trying her hardest to decipher it, she reads under her breath, the account of a royal official.

'On the winter solstice, the to-be Duchess of the Ruskin family is found dead before her marriage to the royal prince…' Myra's eyes widen at the scandal, eyes reading faster and faster, remanding for more information on the situation.

'Footsteps led into the forest and were no longer found…' it reads, providing only known information and no speculations on who it may have been.

Plucking scrolls off the holder, Myra scutters to a circle table next to the window, laying them out. "I need to make sense of my circumstances," she mutters to herself determinedly, skipping over to the other side of the room to sort through the books she needs.

Running her finger along the spines of the hardcover volumes stacked in an organised manner. Politics, economics, administration… Myra finally finds one on history. Clutching it to her chest, she returns to her seat, plopping down on it over-excitedly.

Unrolling another scroll, she presses her palm against it to keep it unrolled, using the other hand to flip open the book. On the first page is a map similar to the one Roseann showed, with minor differences in the symbols.

Following it reads information on the details of the Ruskin family and origins, seemingly important things Myra wonders if she'll need to memorise about herself.

"Can't I get information the easy way if I just told them that I've lost my memories?" her head shoots up in realisation, only realisation that the probable outcome is being ignored.

According to the scriptures, the Ruskin family has always been the merciful of the bunch. For all that historians can note, they haven't always been the richest or those with the most power.

They used to have strong ties with the other clans, especially the royal family due to the friendly relationship between the King and the Duke at the time. Myra leans in towards the scroll, squinting her eyes to understand the illegible handwriting.

At some point, however… it seemed as if there was a conflict… the death of a Duchess at the hands of a rivalling clan.

Myra flicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, frustrated. "There isn't enough information!" she demands to herself. "It's impossible for me to know where I came from either, darn it," she curses.

Sometimes it's like she's permanently stuck in a mind that doesn't fit her body, that the words that leave her mouth barely feel right.


AUTORENGEDANKEN
mirxkewl mirxkewl

"You can fly even higher." | Make sure to support this book and my first novel with powerstones and collections!

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