ROYAL CONTEST

12| CHAPTER TWELVE

CROWN PRINCE OWEN'S POV

The moment hung in the air, thick with the weight of my impulsive actions. I would be lying if I said I knew what came over me. All I knew was that in that fleeting instant, I wanted to kiss her, to feel her lips against mine, to bridge the chasm of tension that had been building between us.

And so, I did. My lips met hers in a desperate, impassioned gesture, a collision of longing and confusion. But disappointment washed over me when she remained still, unresponsive, her lips soft but unmoving. The rejection stung, a sharp contrast to the warmth I had hoped for.

I wanted to apologize, to explain that I hadn't meant to act so recklessly when suddenly, her lips found mine in a startling turn of events. The kiss was tender yet fervent, and for a moment, everything else faded into insignificance.

It was just the two of us, lost in this unexpected connection. I know the colour of my eyes changed because I could feel the change, a telltale sign of my inner turmoil, but to my surprise, it didn't scare her. She didn't flinch or pull away, meeting my gaze with an unwavering intensity that only deepened the enigma of her presence.

"I'm sorry, I got carried away," she murmured, her voice a mere whisper as she tried to retreat. But I wasn't ready to let her go, not yet. I reached out and pulled her back, gently yet firmly pinning her against the wall.

"Shouldn't I be the one to apologize? I kissed you first, remember?" My words were met with silence as she averted her gaze, her eyes fixated on the ground as if it held some hidden secret. It was infuriatingly endearing, the way she avoided my eyes, the flush of colour creeping up her cheeks.

"Miss Ntuli, we just kissed, and the first word that came out of your mouth is 'sorry'? Do you regret kissing me, perhaps?" I tried to keep my voice steady, to mask the vulnerability lurking beneath my bravado.

"It's not that. It's just..." Her hesitation was palpable, each word a struggle to break free.

"Just what? I caught you off guard, or maybe I took advantage of you?" The questions tumbled out, more insistent than I intended, driven by the need to understand her silence.

"No. It's not like that. What I wanted to say was..." She trailed off, her blush deepening, making her look irresistibly cute. I waited, my patience strained, for her to gather the courage to continue. "That was my first kiss."

The revelation hit me like a jolt, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. So that was the reason for her reluctance, her avoidance. She didn't want to admit that I was the first man who had ever kissed her.

A mix of emotions surged within me—surprise, guilt, and a burgeoning protectiveness. I wanted to reassure her, to tell her that her first kiss was something I would treasure.

The words tumbled out of my mouth almost before I realized what I was saying. "I will have you know that that was also my first kiss. I'm not blushing though and I'm not afraid to admit it in case you're wondering." Her reaction was a mix of confusion and disbelief, her brows furrowing as she processed my confession.

"Huh?" The simple, incredulous sound escaped her lips, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of amusement mixed with a twinge of vulnerability.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Is it so hard for you to accept that the Crown Prince of Harrington has never kissed a girl before?" I asked, the edge in my voice betraying the defensiveness I felt.

Her eyes widened slightly as if she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. "Alyssa," I continued, my tone softening, "I am not like everybody else you have met in your life. I know what is expected of me as a prince, and I don't want to disappoint people."

The words felt heavy, laden with the weight of my responsibilities and the silent pressures that had been my constant companions since birth.

"I am not good with girls," I admitted, a rueful smile playing on my lips. "But I do know that you have expectations and that you can't control who you fall in love with, just like us men." Her expression shifted, a mixture of curiosity and disbelief.

To people who didn't know me or those who knew nothing about the intricate dynamics of the Harrington Empire, it was indeed hard to believe that the Crown Prince had never dated, and had never experienced the simple, yet profound connection of romantic intimacy.

"Why does everybody think that I'm always lying?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

"Your Highness, do you really want an answer to that?" When I didn't immediately respond, she continued, her words tumbling out with a mix of earnestness and exasperation. "You obviously know how good-looking you are, and we are not blind."

Her bluntness caught me off guard, and I found myself hanging on to every word. "You have everything a woman wants in a man. With your looks, you can get any girl you want without effort, and I know you also know that too. So, to answer your question, yes, it is hard to believe that you have never kissed a girl in your life. You don't look like the type of guy who would wait for marriage to kiss a girl."

The sincerity and directness of her words made me burst into laughter. It was a deep, genuine laugh, one that I hadn't experienced in a long time. It also felt good to know that she had just complimented me, albeit in a roundabout way.

I've been told countless times that I am good-looking, but hearing it from Alyssa carried a weight and significance that I couldn't quite explain. Her opinion mattered more to me than she could ever imagine.

"Why are you laughing? I just spoke the truth," she said, her confusion palpable.

"I'm really sorry," I said, struggling to regain my composure. "It's just that what you just said is something I've heard before. You are not the only one who thinks that I'm not the type of guy who would wait for marriage before kissing a girl." I paused, letting the amusement settle. "It wasn't funny before, but now it is. If you had said that a few minutes ago, I would have thought of it the same way. But now it's different."

I took a step closer, my gaze locked onto hers. "I already kissed you, but we're not married yet. I guess I am not the type of guy who would wait for marriage after all."

Alyssa stood there, silent, her expression a mixture of bewilderment and contemplation. She didn't say anything, and I could see the wheels turning in her mind, trying to process everything that had just transpired. As I approached her again, hoping to bridge the gap between us, she suddenly turned and left, her retreat swift and determined.

I stood there, caught in the web of my own indecision. Should I follow her, try to explain myself further, or give her the space she clearly needed? The uncertainty gnawed at me.

The echo of our conversation lingered in the air. I replayed the moment in my mind, dissecting her words, and her expressions, trying to understand her perspective. Alyssa was unlike anyone I had ever met. She was honest to a fault, unafraid to speak her mind, and it was both refreshing and daunting.

My father's voice echoed in my mind. "A prince must always be composed, decisive, and unwavering." But how could I apply that same rigid doctrine to matters of the heart? How could I navigate this new, bewildering landscape where every step felt uncertain and every decision fraught with consequence?

In the end, I decided to give her the space she needed. I would wait, patiently, for the right moment to approach her again, to explain myself and, perhaps, to continue the conversation we had started. Alyssa was not someone to be rushed or cornered; she deserved the time and respect to process things in her own way.

After a few minutes of standing there in the empty corridor, feeling the weight of everything that had just happened, I decided to retreat to my chambers. The walk back was a blur, my mind consumed with thoughts of the kiss, the sensation of her lips against mine, the surprise and warmth that followed.

It was a bewildering realization—today, I had kissed someone for the first time, and it had felt incredible. There was no regret, only an overwhelming desire for more. The memory of that kiss lingered, haunting me in the most delightful way.

In the solitude of my room, I paced back and forth, the echo of my footsteps the only sound. I couldn't shake the thought of her, the way she had looked at me, the way she had kissed me back. It felt as though something within me had shifted, a dormant part of myself awakening to the possibility of a deeper connection.

On the contrary, instead of feeling content with what had happened, I found myself yearning for more. I wanted to kiss her again, to be near her, to understand the emotions swirling within her just as they did within me. The intensity of my feelings startled me. Was it possible to feel so deeply about someone after just one kiss?

Being alone in my chambers felt wrong, almost suffocating. The walls seemed to close in, the silence too loud, amplifying the absence of her presence. It was irrational, I knew. A prince shouldn't feel this way over a single kiss. I had responsibilities, duties, and a future already mapped out for me. And yet, I couldn't help but wish that she was here with me, filling the space with her presence, her voice, her warmth.

But then there was the lingering uncertainty—how did she feel about all this? The way she had kissed me back had felt so right, so natural, as if it was meant to be. But then she had run away, leaving me standing there, confused and yearning.

Did she regret it? Was she frightened by the suddenness of it all, or perhaps overwhelmed by the same feelings that now consumed me? I replayed the scene in my mind, trying to decipher her reaction and her thoughts.

The possibility that she might regret what had happened gnawed at me. It was a thought I couldn't bear. I didn't want her to feel ashamed or confused. More than anything, I wanted her to understand that the kiss meant something to me, something profound and real.

But how could I convey that to her without pushing her away further? The balance between expressing my feelings and respecting her space was delicate, and I was terrified of tipping it the wrong way.

I sank into the chair by the window, looking out at the sprawling gardens below, the moonlight casting a silvery glow over the landscape. The beauty of the night felt hollow without her to share it with.

"Uncle, can I come in?" Junior stood at the door, his small frame barely silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway. I nodded, still lost in my thoughts, and he came rushing in with the exuberance only a child could muster.

"What brings you here? Shouldn't you be with your mother?" I asked, trying to shift my focus away from the whirlwind of emotions and back to the present. He climbed onto the chair next to mine, his youthful energy a stark contrast to my own brooding.

"I wanted to see my aunt. I thought you were with her," he replied innocently.

"Your aunt?" I repeated, momentarily confused.

"Yes, the one you were with earlier. I saw you kissing, and I-" My eyes widened in alarm, and I quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, silencing him.

"Did you have to say that out loud? What if others hear you?" I hissed, my heart racing at the thought of our moment being exposed.

Junior looked at me with wide, innocent eyes, clearly not understanding the gravity of the situation. "So what? I didn't know it was a secret. You were kissing in public, and I am sure someone else except me saw you."

His words hit me like a cold splash of water. He was right. I had been reckless, driven by an overwhelming need to connect with Alyssa at that moment. The consequences hadn't even crossed my mind. I removed my hand from his mouth, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Well, that is true," I admitted, feeling a mix of regret and resolve. "I was reckless." I shouldn't have done that in public, even though I wanted to kiss her so badly. The realization weighed on me. I didn't have a problem with others knowing that I had made my choice, but I also did not want to bring any trouble to Alyssa.

This was a competition, after all. Everyone involved wanted to win, to secure their place in the royal court. If word got out that I had kissed Alyssa, it would undoubtedly paint a target on her back. The other contestants would see her as a threat, and they would stop at nothing to eliminate her from the competition. The thought of her being hurt because of my impulsiveness was unbearable.

Junior's innocent gaze remained fixed on me, unaware of the intricate web of politics and intrigue that surrounded the court. "Why is it a problem, Uncle? Don't you like her?"

"I do like her, Junior," I said, my voice softening. "But sometimes, things aren't as simple as they seem. There are people who might not be happy about it, and they could try to cause trouble for her. I have to be careful."

He nodded, his youthful mind trying to grasp the complexities of adult concerns. "Okay, Uncle. But you should be happy. If she makes you happy, then it will be okay."

His simple wisdom touched me. "Thank you, Junior. You're right. I should be happy. But I also need to make sure that she's safe.

"She's pretty and I know she is a good person. I want her to be my aunt. She would make a good crown princess and I know she will treat me well." Junior's words echoed in the quiet room, a testament to his pure-hearted perspective. He looked up at me with earnest eyes, filled with a child's unfiltered hope. "Can you choose her when the competition is over? That would make me really happy."

I couldn't believe that he was the one saying all that. He's usually quiet, observing the world around him with a thoughtful demeanour that seemed almost out of place for someone so young.

I had always been used to seeing him like that, a small, silent figure who absorbed everything with a wisdom beyond his years.

But here he was, speaking with a clarity and conviction that startled me.