Miralen knocked on the door. "Come in," a deep, commanding voice answered from inside. Miralen slowly turned the doorknob and opened the door. She entered the room and closed it behind her. Then she stood silently, waiting for Zyran to say something.
Zyran was sitting near the fireplace in one of the two beautifully carved wooden chairs, with a wooden table standing between them. He was reading a book. All the windows were closed, and the only light illuminating the room came from the fire burning in the fireplace.
Miralen looked around and frowned.
Is he an emo or something? she thought before looking back at Zyran.
The fire cast a warm, golden glow over him. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his brown eyes shimmered with golden reflections beneath the firelight. He wore a black frock coat over a black vest and a crisp white shirt. He was still wearing a black glove on his right hand, while his other hand remained bare.
Why does he wear a glove on only his right hand? What is he hiding? Or is he just trying to look mysterious? She thought again. Miralen couldn't help feeling both suspicious and weirded out.
Zyran glanced at her. "Are you going to stand there forever? Come and sit," he ordered. Miralen walked over and sat in the chair opposite to him. Zyran closed the book and placed it on the table. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Silence settled between them.
Then Zyran folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "I hope you know why you're here," he reminded her. Miralen nodded. "I know very well, and I hope you know the answer as well," she retorted, meeting his cold gaze.
Zyran raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think your words are going to be acknowledged? You don't get to decide—"
"Yes, I do," Miralen interrupted. Her eyes had grown sharper and colder than before. Zyran looked amused. This was the first time someone had interrupted him in the middle of a sentence.
"This is my life, and I do get to decide what to do and what not to do. You have no right to interfere," she continued, her voice calm but sharp.
"I am your father. Don't forget your place, Delayna. You are just an ordinary woman without me," he warned, his irritation and anger becoming increasingly apparent.
Miralen tilted her head slightly. "Oh, really? I don't think so. Without you, I am still me. I am someone who has self- respect and humanity," she countered.
Zyran smuged and straightened in his chair. "Don't be foolish. You know you're in this position because of me. If I hadn't been there, you wouldn't be standing here. Your humanity and self– respect aren't going to take you anywhere," he reminded her.
Miralen fell silent because deep down she knew he was right. The position Delayna held was all possible because of him. She looked away, simmering with quiet anger and frustration. Losing an argument was one of the things she hated most.
If I say anything right now, I might get myself into trouble. And I'm already caught up in so many problems. Taking unnecessary risks wouldn't be a smart move. I need to calm myself down first.
She slowly drew in a breath and exhaled softly. Zyran watched her in confusion. What is she doing? he wondered. Miralen looked back at him, her expression dead serious.
"I'm still not going to marry Prince Hazen," she finally declared. Zyran's eyes widened in shock and anger. "Do whatever you want. And honestly, it would be foolish of you to keep chasing after me, trying to convince me to marry the prince," she continued firmly.
With that, she stood up and walked toward the door. Zyran's eyes followed her, irritation and anger bubbling inside him. "Where are you going? I didn't tell you to leave!"
Miralen stopped in front of the door and turned back to look at him. Then she smuged, as though challenging him to do something about it. "You don't need to. I'll do whatever I think is right. I'm not going to follow your orders blindly anymore."
She tilted her head slightly. "You've controlled me enough, and now..." She paused. "It's over," she whispered. Miralen opened the door and left, leaving Zyran alone in the warm yet cold room.
Zyran sat motionless for a moment, his eyes still fixed on the door through which she had left. They were wide with rage. He looked down at the book lying on the table before him.
Suddenly, he grabbed it and hurled it across the room in anger before slamming his fists against the table. "You will regret defying my orders, Delayna," he hissed furiously.
———————
Miralen walked through the corridor, her footsteps echoing against the wooden floorboards. Her mind raced with countless thoughts.
I've gotten myself into trouble again. Why can't I just get everything over with quickly? Why is everything getting harder and harder to solve? Once again, she regretted every decision that had led her to this place.
And that old man! Who does he think he is? Just because he's a noble doesn't mean he can control me. Seeing his face annoys me so much. I want to slap him so hard that he flies into the void!
She silently cursed Zyran in her mind as she continued walking.
Finally, Miralen reached Delayna's room and opened the door. She stepped inside and locked it behind her. "Maybe I should just sleep for a while," she mumbled. She walked over to the bed and lay down on the soft mattress, staring up at the ceiling.
"This dress is making me so uncomfortable. I'm going to change into something more comfortable." She murmured. Miralen stood up and walked toward the wardrobe. She opened it and searched through the neatly arranged dresses.
"Why aren't there any trousers?" she muttered in frustration. Then, a moment later realization struck her. "Oh, right. It's the past. Of course, there won't be any trousers for girls here," she muttered again.
After searching a little longer, she found a nightgown and decided to wear it. Once she had changed, she practically dived into bed. Within minutes, she had fallen asleep. Exhaustion took over her body, pulling her into a deep, peaceful slumber.
But she wasn't alone. Someone was standing outside her window on the edge of the wall, watching her through the glass. Miralen hadn't noticed the figure, who was holding an old notebook in their hand. The person cautiously peeked into the room once more and saw Miralen sleeping soundly.
A quiet sigh of relief escaped their lips. Then, without making a sound, the figure jumped down into the courtyard, climbed over the wall surrounding the estate, and landed on the other side.
They immediately ran away, moving as though afraid that Miralen or rather, Delayna might wake up and discover them.
(The end of chapter 24.)