The days following the wedding felt like a dream spun from romance. Adrian and Liveta were deep in their honeymoon phase, each moment bathed in golden sunlight as they relished each other's presence and the sweetness of newlywed life.
In the mornings, sunlight filtered through the curtains and spilled over the bed. Adrian would wake to find Liveta resting quietly beside him, her features calm and beautiful like a blooming lily. He would reach out to gently stroke her hair, then lower his head and press a kiss to her forehead. Her lashes would flutter, and soon she would open her eyes and smile at him with soft tenderness.
"Good morning, my love," she would whisper, her voice as gentle as running water.
"Good morning, my princess," Adrian would reply with a smile, his heart full of warmth and joy.
Together they lingered in those tranquil mornings, wrapped in each other's arms. It felt as if nothing could shatter their bliss. They walked through gardens hand in hand, watched the sunset spill over the rooftops, and Adrian would often bring her fresh flowers. Liveta would lean against his shoulder with a smile, nestled into the safety of his embrace.
Banquets, dances, champagne and laughter made every day feel like a celebration. It was as if their marriage began anew with every sunrise.
But in the quiet corners of Adrian's heart, unease was growing. The voice in his dreams had become more frequent, more urgent, filled with sorrow and desperation. He couldn't escape the invisible weight pressing on him each night. Every time he closed his eyes, the voice returned.
"Adrian… help me…"
He tried to dismiss it as simple exhaustion, tried to suppress the restlessness in the morning light. But it was no use.
"Your Highness, your clothes are ready," said Carl, his attendant, breaking the silence with a careful voice. Carl had begun to notice the tension in the prince's brow lately.
Adrian nodded half-heartedly, a flicker of irritation passing over his face. "I know. You may go," he said coolly.
Carl bowed and quietly exited the room. Only when he was alone did he dare exhale. His own brows knit together as he walked away.
The prince had never been an easy master. But Carl had served him long enough to read his moods like a well-worn book. Lately, though, Adrian had become unreadable. Sometimes, even in the middle of a cheerful conversation with the princess, his face would suddenly darken, or he would abruptly cut her off. In the past, Adrian had never paid attention to trivial mistakes. Now, even the smallest errors earned harsh reprimands.
Carl couldn't understand it. He had never felt so anxious in his prince's presence. Adrian seemed… deeply unsettled.
He prayed silently for these days to pass. But perhaps the Virgin hadn't heard him, because things only grew worse.
A crystal wine glass shattered against the floor.
"Adrian, what's wrong? It was just a slight delay in dinner—" Liveta's voice trembled as she tried to speak, only for Adrian to cut her off mid-sentence.
"A slight delay in dinner?" His voice thundered through the room, filled with unfamiliar fury. "Is that how a crown princess behaves?"
Liveta froze. The plate in her hands nearly slipped as she stared at him in shock. She had not expected him to erupt so suddenly.
"I… I just…" Her words faltered, laced with fear and confusion.
Adrian took a deep breath, his pulse racing. The outburst had offered a fleeting sense of release, but now a wave of exhaustion washed over him.
"Forget it. Let's eat," he muttered. His face remained dark as he sat down and ate in silence.
Liveta placed her plate gently on the table. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I know you're tired. Maybe… maybe you should rest for a few days."
"That won't be necessary," Adrian said curtly. He stood and left the dining room without another word, leaving Liveta behind with a heart full of unease.
Days passed. Adrian's mood did not improve. The voice in his dreams haunted him each night, its sorrow slicing deeper into his mind. His temper frayed. He snapped at Liveta over the smallest things, even shoving her away during an argument.
"Are you trying to burn me?" he shouted after a cup of tea spilled across his sleeve. The porcelain crashed to the floor. "You can't even handle something so simple?"
Liveta flinched, her body trembling. Her lips quivered as she whispered, "I'm sorry… I'll make you another—"
"No need," Adrian interrupted impatiently. "Can't you see I'm busy? Don't bother me if it's not important."
Liveta let out a quiet sob. Adrian turned toward the sound and saw the tears welling in her eyes. A pang of guilt gripped his heart. He reached out, wanting to comfort her. But just as his hand neared her, the voice echoed again in his head.
"Adrian… save me…"
His hand stopped in midair. He shut his eyes and exhaled, heavy and strained, like a man gasping for air.
Liveta had seen his hand move toward her. For a moment, hope lit her eyes. But then she watched as he withdrew, silent and distant once more. The light in her gaze dimmed. She wiped away her tears and left the room without a word.
Adrian stared after her, guilt churning inside him. He wanted to call her back, to apologize. But years of pride forged by royal blood kept the words trapped in his throat.