Chapter 139: What happened at the banquet
From the corner of his eye, Noelle watched as Victor and Oliver slipped out of the banquet hall. Honestly, Oliver shouldn’t even be here, not with the size of his stomach. Meanwhile, Noelle hadn’t even begun to show yet, but he’d already abandoned form-fitting clothing in favor of comfort—a soft, voluminous designer blouse with long sleeves and a pair of slacks. The outfit was understated but elegant, fitting for his reserved presence at the edge of the festivities.
He unconsciously reached for the star-shaped charm on his choker, fingers grazing it as if it might bring him closer to Thorne. He missed him terribly, the ache magnified by the flood of emotions that seemed to shift by the minute. One moment he wanted to cry; the next, he felt overwhelmed with joy. When Thorne finally returned, he mused with a wry smile, he’d make sure his husband suffered. He chuckled inwardly, imagining how he’d "punish" Thorne by demanding endless affection and little luxuries—things he would gladly indulge in without a moment’s hesitation.
Seeing a cluster of nobles approaching, Noelle made a swift decision to avoid conversation. He turned to Doris, his loyal attendant. "Let’s get some air," he murmured, and together they slipped out into the cool night.
As they stepped into the cool night air, Noelle felt a weight lift, breathing in the crispness that instantly soothed him. They moved further into the garden, passing under canopies of leaves that glistened in the moonlight. Ahead, the vast maze of tall, leafy walls stretched out, an elaborate construction that seemed to be a staple in noble households. Noelle couldn’t help but scoff slightly at the excessiveness of it all. Seraphina’s estate had a maze, too—one he had carefully avoided. These elaborate gardens were crafted for gatherings, gossip, and the endless tea parties he so skillfully dodged.
He would participate if Thorne ever asked it of him, of course, but his husband’s authority hardly depended on such connections.
But as he and Doris wandered deeper into the quiet refuge of the garden, a pair of golden eyes watched from afar. Hidden among the columns of the terrace, a certain royal stood, gaze fixed intently on Noelle’s graceful figure.
Noelle closed his eyes briefly, savoring the cool night air and the delicate fragrance of flowers drifting through the garden. But his peace was soon broken by a voice behind him.
"Having you here makes the garden even more beautiful," came the smooth yet slurred voice of the Crown Prince, his words tinged with the unmistakable scent of alcohol.
Noelle turned calmly, his expression neutral, before offering a respectful bow. "I greet your highness," he said evenly, catching Doris doing the same from the corner of his eye.
The prince swayed slightly, his gaze fixed on Noelle with a warmth that bordered on intensity. "No need for formalities," he murmured, stepping closer, eyes raking over Noelle as though assessing him.
The prince’s eyes gleamed with thinly veiled interest as he moved a step closer. "There was an article about you, you know," he said, his tone smooth, with an edge of something more.