It might be an inappropriate description for a man with the most splendid background in the Empire, but it was the truth. While continuing his social life, fearing he might be consumed by boredom if things continued this way, Cédric finally fell for the love he had longed for.“Shh. Don’t move.”
To that woman, the princess of a fallen kingdom said to have grown up savagely alongside dragons, feeding on animal blood.
Lavinia de Nordvark.
His cousin, the woman destined to marry the prince of this country.
But such things did not matter.
After all, nothing he truly desired had failed to become his.
“You are right in what you have implicitly suspected, Young Lady. Our meetings were not coincidences. They were all deliberate. I bribed your maid and received reports on your every move. I knew everything—what books you read, where you visit, even what tea you drank in the morning. So, it is impossible that we ran into each other so often.”
Cedric, charging at Lavinia like a bulldozer to woo her, believes that everything will go his way.
Without knowing what she is thinking inside.
And without knowing what he is missing.
“So how can you say that all of this isn’t love?”
The common thread between love and fear is that they swell up inside the heart.
Though it may sound a bit strange, this is love, Lavinia.
