Chapter 12: Camella
Seated on an extravagant bed was a young lady.
Golden, orb-like eyes stared blankly ahead, framed by hair that shimmered almost like sunlight—its waves cascading down her back, loosely held by a braid. A few strands spilled over her forehead, giving her an air of sophisticated beauty. Her face was smooth, pale, and finely sculpted—delicate yet noble. She wore a sleeping gown that veiled the figure she’d grown into over the years, though it did little to hide the allure beneath. What truly drew eyes to her wasn’t just the angelic face, but the aura she exuded—one that had made the prince determined to have her by any means.
The gown, simple in design for indoor wear, clung subtly to her body, the silk hugging too tightly in places where it stretched. The modest cut at the front hinted at the burden she carried on her chest—graceful, restrained, but undeniably present.
Click.
The door opened quietly, but she didn’t shift her gaze from the mirror.
"My lady," the maid’s voice broke the silence, tinged with concern.
Camella hadn’t been the same since the day she woke and learned what had happened to Azalea—how he’d been expelled, how he’d vanished that very day. Since then, she had refused to leave her room, ignoring even her father’s summons. Letters from friends went unanswered. Gifts were left unopened. Even the prince himself, during his personal visit, had been turned away.
"What is it, Valerie?" she asked, her voice drained, her eyes fixed on the large window through which sunlight poured and breathed life into the room.
"Your friends... Lady Isabelle and Maria. They’re here to see you."
The moment she heard those names, something clenched sharply in her chest.
"Send them away," she said without hesitation, her eyes still glued to the window, her expression unreadable.