Chapter 4

Veyna turns on her heel, deciding that whatever this is, she wants no part of it. Ignoring the prince entirely, she strides past him without even a nod.

“Oh my? You’re just going to walk away? Leaving a royal prince hanging like this, Miss Veyna?” Henry’s voice drips with mock disappointment.

She rolls her eyes. Here we go again.

“I have far more important matters to deal with than listening to whatever nonsense you’re about to spit out of your mouth,” she said flatly, not even bothering to look at him.

And that is the truth. She had neither the time nor the patience for Henry De Varethorne.

She has disliked him from the very moment they met. During their academy years, he had made it his personal mission to get in her way at every opportunity. If there was a competition, he would enter just to challenge her. If she made a brilliant remark in class, he’d have a snide comeback ready. He was an insufferable, two-faced menace who somehow always managed to irritate her beyond reason.

And the most ridiculous part?

He once had the audacity to propose to her. Propose.

Of course, she wasn’t insane enough to accept. A lifetime spent married to that jerk? Absolutely not.

But ever since that rejection, Henry had made it a point to cross paths with her just to remind her of it.

“Oh, Veyna,” he’d sigh dramatically whenever he saw her. “Still unmarried? You could have been a princess by now.”

If murder weren’t a crime, she would have thrown him into the nearest river ages ago.

Among the three princes, Henry De Varethorne is the golden boy, the eldest, the one everyone admires. The wise, promising young man, the so-called ideal future ruler. A man of dignity, intelligence, and grace.

At least, that’s what the public believes.

Veyna knows better.

Henry is anything but dignified when he’s tormenting her for fun. Behind his princely facade is a smug, insufferable menace with an obnoxious habit of getting in her way.

And compared to his brothers? Well, the royal family certainly has its fair share of variety.

Edric De Varethorne, the second prince is nothing short of a nightmare. A man with a reputation so vile it makes seasoned nobles shudder. He is ruthless, cruel, and utterly merciless. A true tyrant in every sense of the word. If Henry is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Edric is just the wolf.

Then there’s Aaron De Varethorne, the third prince. The complete opposite of his brothers. Kind, gentle, and maybe a little too naive. It’s no wonder the most sought-after lady in high society, Evelyne, has fallen for him so hard. But now that Veyna thinks about it, Aaron has never once expressed any desire to take the throne.

Three princes. Three vastly different personalities. And somehow, she keeps getting stuck dealing with this one.

“Miss Veyna, are you even listening?”

Veyna blinks, snapping out of her thoughts.

She has completely tuned Henry out. Not that she feels bad about it. Serves him right.

"I wasn’t listening. Sorry, not sorry," Veyna says with a smug expression, perfectly mirroring the arrogant energy Henry always radiates.

Henry gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest as if she has just gravely wounded him. "Really? I’m hurt."

"Yeah." Veyna flashes him the fakest, most insincere smile she can muster. "Keep hurting."

Henry’s vein twitches on his forehead.

This woman…

Veyna chuckles, thoroughly amused by his reaction.

Henry takes a deep breath, schooling his expression into one of princely composure. He’s not about to lose to her. Not again.

"You know," he says smoothly, "you missed a very good opportunity by rejecting me. I’ll take the throne one day, and you could’ve been queen. My queen."

Veyna tilts her head thoughtfully before flipping her silver hair over her shoulder, as if considering his words.

"Your Highness, I’m going to lie now," she says with a sweet smile. "You’re a kind, handsome, and good man."

Henry smirks, satisfied until the delayed realization hits him like a brick.

His smile falters. His eyes narrow.

"Wait a minute—"

"Moreover," Veyna continues, completely ignoring him, "if I had to choose between you, a parrot, and a handsome bodyguard…" She pauses, tapping her chin in mock thought. "I think I’d choose the parrot."

Henry arches an eyebrow, his smirk returning. "A bird?"

"Yeah," Veyna says flatly. "At least it would only say things I actually want to hear. Not some bullshit."

Henry stands there, completely stunned.

Bam, WASTED.

That comeback was unexpected. And worse, unbeatable.

For once, he has no retort. No witty remark. Just the bitter taste of defeat.

Veyna, thoroughly enjoying the sight of his dumbfounded expression, bursts into laughter. With an almost mocking kind of fondness, she reaches out and taps his chest.

"Hope we’ll never see each other again, Your Royal Highness~" she sings, her voice dripping with amusement.

Then, without waiting for a response, she turns on her heel and walks away, waving lazily over her shoulder—without even looking back.

Henry watches her go, his eye twitching slightly.

That woman…

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