ROYAL CONTEST

11| CHAPTER ELEVEN

CROWN PRINCE OWEN'S POV

As I continued getting ready for dinner, I couldn't help but wonder why Justin does that. It's not like he would suddenly become Crown Prince overnight since he isn't even the second in line for the throne.

His constant provocations, his attempts to undermine me—it was as if he believed that through sheer force of will, he could change the immutable order of succession.

As the only child of the Emperor and Empress, I was the automatic heir, with my nephew being second in line. Justin's place in the hierarchy was far removed from any real claim to the crown, and yet he continued his relentless pursuit of influence and power.

The complexities of our royal family were compounded by Clara who was raised as my sister. Though not biologically related, the bond we shared was forged through years of shared experiences and mutual respect.

If not for the strict imperial rules, Clara would have been the Crown Princess. She was a few months older than me, and my parents had always treated her as their own, with all the love and responsibility that entailed.

Her intelligence, grace, and capability made her a natural leader, and I often thought that she would have been an excellent ruler. But tradition dictated otherwise, and so the mantle of the crown fell to me.

"Your Highness, dinner will be served in ten minutes," the maidservant announced, breaking my reverie. I nodded, acknowledging the message, and turned my attention back to preparing for the evening. Once ready, I made my way to the dining hall, the familiar yet overwhelming sight of the grand table and the multitude of guests greeting me.

Despite the opulence, I doubted I would ever get used to dining with over twenty people every night. The formality, the constant scrutiny, the unspoken expectations—it was all part of the role I was born into, yet it often felt suffocating.

As I entered the hall, I noticed the girls were already seated, their conversations halting as they saw me. By some stroke of luck, Alyssa was seated beside my chair. The sight of her there, so close and yet so distant, stirred a mix of emotions within me. The other girls quickly rose from their seats to greet me, their movements a synchronized display of etiquette and deference.

"I told you guys that you don't need to formally greet me every time you see me. We are going to be spending a lot of time together during the duration of this competition, and I'm afraid you will end up getting tired of all the formalities. Have a seat," I said, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Despite my casual tone, the ladies responded in unison, their voices a well-rehearsed chorus of "Thank you, Your Highness." It was clear they had practised this, perhaps under the guidance of their families or etiquette instructors. The formality of it all was stifling, a reminder of the rigid expectations placed upon us by tradition.

Not long after, my father entered the room with my aunt, Clara, and Justin in tow. The ladies quickly rose again to greet them, their movements synchronized and elegant. After they had greeted my family, I did the same, following the protocol that had been drilled into me since childhood.

My father's teachings echoed in my mind: every single word that comes from a crown prince's mouth is important. It was a lesson I took to heart, knowing that my words carried weight and could shape perceptions and decisions.

"Jason, I haven't seen you in months, and when you come back, you don't even come to greet your aunt. Silly boy, you have made me come here instead," my aunt chided, her tone a mix of reprimand and affection. Her presence was a vibrant one, always full of energy and warmth.

I smiled, remembering how she could be both formidable and loving. "Visiting the First Princess of the Harrington Empire is a great deal. Even I, the Crown Prince, have to make arrangements and set an appointment. I get tired just thinking about all that, and by the time I decide to visit, I realize I can always see my aunt some other time. My apologies, Your Highness," I replied, my words tinged with playful respect.

She laughed, a sound that lightened the atmosphere. "Oh, you charmer," she said, taking her seat. The room seemed to breathe easier with her laughter, and I was grateful for her ability to dispel tension.

Before we could begin eating, a small figure dashed into the room. "Scott Jr., the first imperial grandson, greets His Majesty, the First Princess, the Crown Prince, Mother, the Fifth Prince, and all our royal guests," he announced, his voice high and clear. The pride of our family, Junior was the second in line for the throne, and his presence always drew smiles. The ladies, including Alyssa, beamed at him, charmed by his youthful enthusiasm.

As was his habit, Junior went to his mother first, receiving her affectionate embrace before making his way to sit next to me. Throughout dinner, I noticed him stealing glances at Alyssa, his curiosity evident. It was endearing to see, and I couldn't help but wonder what he made of her.

The meal progressed with the usual formalities, conversations ebbing and flowing around the table. I engaged when required, but my thoughts were never far from Alyssa. Her presence beside me was a constant reminder of the conversation we needed to have, and the honesty I needed to show. She participated in the polite chatter, but I could sense her unease, a subtle tension that underscored her every movement.

ALYSSA'S POV

The gentle hum of laughter and conversation filled the grand dining hall, but my attention was fixated on the young prince sitting across the table. There was an innocence in his gaze that made my heart swell with affection, even though I was acutely aware of my limited expertise with children.

Yet, something about him made me reconsider my hasty decision to return home. I had always found solace in the simplicity of children's company, but the young prince's presence stirred a new, unfamiliar longing within me—a desire to linger, to share more moments, to watch him grow.

Each time our eyes met, I made sure to flash him a warm smile, and his delighted response was immediate and heartwarming. His mother, Princess Clara, noticed our silent exchange, her eyes darting between her son and me with a mixture of curiosity and approval. I couldn't help but wonder if the princess sensed the same inexplicable connection I felt.

As the evening progressed and the grand feast drew to a close, I excused myself and made my way back to my quarters. Lost in my thoughts, I was abruptly brought back to reality by a gentle tug on my skirt. Instinctively, I knew who it was before I even turned around. The young prince stood there, his eyes wide with mischief and curiosity. My heart skipped a beat, a smile spreading across my face as I met his gaze.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think that you have a crush on me," I teased, my tone light and playful. The prince didn't respond immediately. Instead, he studied me with an intensity that seemed beyond his years, his silence stretching into a moment that felt both comforting and unnerving.

"Why are you looking at me like that? I didn't do anything wrong, did I?" My attempt to break the silence seemed to snap him out of his thoughts. His lips curved into a shy smile as he finally spoke.

"You are beautiful." His words, simple yet profound, took me by surprise. I had encountered many children, but none as straightforward and earnest as this young prince. His bravery and candid nature were a testament to his royal upbringing, and I felt a deep sense of admiration for him.

"Thank you, Your Highness. But tell me, why are you following me?" My curiosity was piqued. The prince had a mischievous glint in his eye, and I sensed there was more to his actions than mere curiosity.

"You are going to be my aunt very soon. I think it's okay for me to get to know you." His declaration left me momentarily speechless. Aunt? Who had told him such a thing? I racked my brain, trying to recall any conversation that might have hinted at such a development.

The idea was both intriguing and bewildering, and I couldn't help but wonder what had led the little boy to this conclusion. His earnest expression and the innocence in his eyes made me smile, but it also raised a whirlwind of questions in my mind.

"Junior, behave." The voice cut through the moment, sending a shiver down my spine. There was no need to look for the source; I already knew it belonged to the Crown Prince. His voice always had that effect on me, a combination of authority and something more personal, something that made my heart race.

"Your Highness," I greeted him, managing a polite bow despite the swirling emotions inside me.

I had intended to leave, to escape the intensity of his gaze, but he suddenly grabbed my hand, catching me off guard. I barely had time to react, my pulse quickening as his touch sent electric jolts up my arm. The little prince had vanished, slipping away unnoticed, leaving the Crown Prince and me alone, closer to each other than I had ever imagined possible.

There was something about him that I hadn't realized before, an inexplicable magnetism that drew me to him in a way that defied logic. It was impossible to feel so connected to someone I had only known for a few days, yet here I was, utterly captivated.

"Your—" I began, trying to ask the question swirling in my mind, but he cut me off. His hands were suddenly on my shoulders, pushing me gently but firmly against the wall. Before I could process what was happening, his lips crashed into mine.

I was frozen, a statue of shock and surprise. My mind screamed at me to move, to respond, but my body was paralyzed. This was supposed to be a beautiful, exhilarating experience, but my inability to react made it feel like a wasted moment. I had ruined my very first kiss, and the frustration of it burned inside me.

When he realized I wasn't responding, he pulled back, searching my eyes for a sign, for some indication of my feelings. His eyes, I noticed, were molten gold for a fleeting moment before they returned to their usual colour. It should have scared me, but it didn't.

There is something about his eyes that draws me to him, an allure that is both enigmatic and irresistible. Even now, as we stand so close, his eyes hold me captive, their depths swirling with unspoken emotions and secrets.

They are a perfect storm of mystery and allure, shifting colours like a kaleidoscope, each colour revealing a different facet of his soul. I am mesmerized by their beauty, unable to tear my gaze away.

It's as if those eyes hold the key to a world I am desperate to explore, a world where the Crown Prince and I are more than just acquaintances or people forced to follow traditions. This inexplicable connection is what drives me to kiss him back, to press my lips to his with a fervour that surprises even me.

The rational part of my mind screams that he is practically a stranger, someone I barely know. But there is a deeper, more primal instinct at play, urging me to close the gap between us, to bridge the distance with a kiss that speaks volumes.

His lips are warm and demanding, coaxing a response from me that is both immediate and intense. I am lost in the sensation, in the way his kiss makes the world around us fade into insignificance. The palace disappears, leaving only the two of us suspended in this moment of raw, unfiltered emotion.

A fleeting thought crosses my mind, a flash of awareness that we are standing out in the open, where anyone could stumble upon us. The risk only adds to the thrill, heightening my senses and making the kiss feel even more forbidden, more exhilarating.

The idea that someone could walk in and see us, locked in this intimate embrace, should terrify me. Yet, it doesn't. Instead, it fuels the fire between us, making the kiss all the more passionate and reckless. I am intoxicated by the danger, by the possibility of discovery. It adds a layer of excitement that I hadn't anticipated, making my heart pound harder and my breath come faster.

As his hands travel down my back, pulling me closer, I can feel every contour of his body pressed against mine. The reality of his touch, the solidity of his presence, anchors me even as my mind reels from the intensity of our connection.

There is something undeniable about this moment, something that transcends logic and reason. I kiss him with everything I have, pouring all my confusion, longing, and desire into the act.