The heavy palace doors groaned as Isla slipped inside, hoping to make it back to her chambers unnoticed. But the moment she stepped into the grand, dimly lit entrance hall, she froze.
The King and Queen were standing dead center in the foyer, their postures rigid, their expressions dark and unreadable.
The usual warmth of the palace felt completely drained, replaced by an oppressive, heavy silence.
Isla's heart plummeted. 'Oh no,' she thought, her breath catching in her throat as a wave of cold panic washed over her. 'They know.'
"Mom? Dad?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "What happened? Why are you both staring at me like that?"
The King took a slow, heavy step forward. His booming voice, usually so jovial, was startlingly low and dangerous. "Where exactly have you been until this late hour, Isla?"
"I... I..." Isla stammered, panic seizing her chest. "Actually, I was just—"
"And do remember," the King interrupted sharply, his voice rising in volume, "that lying is entirely beneath our royal dignity.
Do not attempt to deceive me. Tell me the absolute truth! Where did you go?!"
His shout echoed off the marble walls, making Isla flinch.
"Actually, Dad... I... I went to see Dorian," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper.
"Dorian?" The King's brow furrowed in a thunderous scowl. "Is that the foolish commoner boy from the academy?"
"Y-yes," Isla nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, it is him. He was bitten by a highly venomous snake yesterday. His life was in terrible danger, and everyone said he was going to die, so I just... I had to go check on him."
"He is a commoner!" the King roared, his face flushing with absolute fury. "And we are royals! There is a massive, impenetrable wall between us and them, do you understand me? They are nothing more than insignificant insects to us! Whether they live or die, it is absolutely none of our concern!"
"But he is a human being!" Isla screamed back, the pent-up frustration and empathy finally exploding out of her.
The entire entrance hall plunged into a profound, suffocated silence. Every single guard, maid, and servant in the room gasped, their eyes wide with shock.
In all her years living in the palace, Princess Isla had never once raised her voice in anger, and she had certainly never dared to yell at her own parents.
The Queen stepped forward, her face a mask of elegant fury. "Isla! Behave yourself this instant! He is your father, and more importantly, he is the King of this great Elephant Kingdom! You will not speak to him with such profound disrespect!"
The fiery adrenaline drained from Isla as quickly as it had surged. The reality of what she had just done crashed down on her.
"I am... I am so sorry, Mom," she whispered, her head dropping in deep shame. "I truly didn't mean to be rude, but I just—"
"Hahahahaha!"
A sudden, booming, chest-deep roar of laughter shattered the tense atmosphere.
Everyone in the hall, including Isla, snapped their heads up in complete shock.
The King was throwing his head back, laughing so hard that his massive belly shook. The furious scowl was completely gone, replaced by a radiant, immensely proud smile.
"Dad?" Isla asked, utterly bewildered. "Why on earth are you laughing?"
"Because, my little pooped princess," the King chuckled, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye, "I was merely testing you."
"A... a test?"
Isla blinked, her confusion deepening.
"What kind of test?"
"I needed to see if you truly possessed the heart and the courage to one day become the Queen of this kingdom," the King explained, his voice softening with immense pride. "And you, my brilliant daughter, passed with absolute flying colors.
A kingdom can only be truly strong, safe, and prosperous when its ruler views every single citizen—royal or commoner—as equals who deserve compassion. The fact that you fought for that boy proved you have the soul of a true leader. I am so incredibly proud of you, my Princess."
Relief washed over Isla like a warm wave, and she let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Thank you so much, Father."
"Oh, do not thank me," the King smiled, gesturing toward the shadowed archway leading to the drawing room. "You should be thanking him."
Out of the shadows stepped a figure that made Isla's blood run instantly cold.
Lucier.
'What is this absolute bastard doing in my house?!' she shrieked internally, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. 'Why did he tell my father that I went to see Dorian? Was he trying to get me in trouble? Was this a trap?!'
On the other side of the room, Prince Lucier was currently battling his own internal crisis.
He stood there completely shell-shocked. This had not been his plan at all! He had purposefully snitched on Isla, fully expecting the strict, traditional King to punish her severely, perhaps even lock her in the dungeon for mingling with a filthy commoner.
Instead, the King had just praised her as a brilliant future ruler! His entire vindictive plot had completely backfired.
"Where have you two wandered off to in your minds?" the King asked jovially, noticing their tense, silent staring contest. "Isla, allow me to properly introduce you.
This is Prince Lucier of our neighboring Tiger Kingdom.
And Lucier, this is my wonderful little pooped princess."
"What?!" Lucier blinked, snapping out of his shock. "A... pooped princess?"
Suddenly, a cruel, highly amused smirk spread across his face, and he burst into loud, obnoxious laughter. "Pooped? Seriously? That is your royal title?"
Isla's face burned with a mixture of embarrassment and pure rage.
"You listen to me," she hissed, pointing a threatening finger at him. "Only my father is allowed to call me that ridiculous name! Absolutely no one else!"
"Oh, really?" Lucier mocked, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "But King, pray tell, why exactly is her nickname the 'pooped princess'?"
Everyone in the room chuckled, the tension completely broken.
"Because," the Queen smiled warmly, stepping forward, "when she was just a little baby, she would poop constantly.
The slightest little thing would set her stomach off."
"Oh, I see," Lucier drawled, his arrogant blue eyes locking onto Isla's furious ones. "And tell me, Your Majesties... does she also happen to vomit constantly?"
"Vomit?" The King and Queen exchanged a deeply confused look. "No, certainly not.
She has an iron stomach now. Why on earth would you ask such a strange question, Prince?"
"Oh, no reason," Lucier smiled smoothly, spinning the cliché red rose between his fingers. "I just figured that perhaps whenever she intensely dislikes a person, her natural defense mechanism is to violently vomit all over them."
"Prince Lucier, please, let us leave these silly topics behind," the Queen intervened graciously. "You must be exhausted from your travels. You should go and get some rest in your quarters."
"Oh, certainly. Why not?" Lucier smiled, bringing the rose up to take a deep, dramatic sniff before turning toward the grand staircase.
"Wait," Isla interrupted, her voice sharp with sudden panic. "Get some rest in his quarters? What does that mean? He is going to stay here? In our palace?! No way!"
"Yes, of course he is," the King said, nodding matter-of-factly. "He will be living with us for the foreseeable future, at least until his studies at the academy are complete. His father is one of my oldest, dearest friends, and our kingdoms are close allies. Offering him a room is the absolute least we can do."
"Please, Prince Lucier, go and rest," the Queen added politely.
As Lucier walked up the stairs, he paused and looked back down at Isla. A dark, incredibly smug smirk stretched across his face, a silent promise of endless torment.
"But Father!" Isla protested desperately, stepping forward.
"No! I have objections!"
"No more objections tonight, Isla," the King sighed, waving a dismissive hand. "We are all exhausted, and it is far too late to argue.
We will discuss this tomorrow."
"But Mom—!"
"Ah, I really must get some rest, my dear," the Queen yawned delicately, turning away. "We will speak of this in the morning."
Isla stood alone in the grand hall, her mouth hanging open in utter disbelief.
'Have they completely lost their minds?!' she screamed internally, clutching her hair in frustration. 'Who in their right mind happily invites their own daughter's destined murderer to live in their house as an honored guest?! Seriously, every single person in this timeline is an absolute, unquestionable stupid!'
She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the raging storm in her chest. But as she stared up at the empty staircase where Lucier had vanished, her panic slowly began to morph into something else.
Something far colder, and much more dangerous.
A slow, wicked, delightfully villainous smirk crept onto her face.
'Well... maybe this isn't so bad after all,' she thought, her eyes glinting with a dark, calculating light. 'Now that this bastard is living under my roof, I will have every opportunity in the world to exact my revenge. Through my sharp words, my brilliant modern mind, or my secret magic... I am going to make his life an absolute, living hell.'