ROYAL CONTEST

3| CHAPTER THREE

CROWN PRINCE OWEN'S POV

The grand hallways of Harrington Palace were filled with a buzz of anticipation. The ladies had arrived, each representing the most esteemed families of the realm, each a potential future empress. I stood in my room, surrounded by a sea of discarded garments, the weight of expectations pressing down on me. Since dawn, I had been trying to find the perfect outfit, but each attempt seemed to fall short. Nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed enough.

I've never met these ladies. I knew nothing of their tastes or preferences. What if I chose something too ostentatious? Or worse, too plain? The thought of making a misstep gnawed at me, and an involuntary curse slipped from my lips. "Damn it!" I muttered under my breath, the frustration boiling over.

What if I make a fool of myself? First impressions are everything, or so they say. I wanted to make one that would linger in their minds, something that spoke of confidence and charm, yet my inexperience loomed like a shadow, whispering that it might all be in vain.

I should’ve sought some assistance, perhaps from one of the palace aides who seemed to have an endless reserve of fashion wisdom. But no, that would be humiliating! A prince, asking for help on what to wear? It was unthinkable.

The very idea filled me with a strange mixture of shame and stubborn pride. My father would never forgive such a display of weakness. "A prince should know," he often said, his stern voice echoing in my mind. "A prince should never need to ask."

The thought of my father’s reaction if he found out was enough to make me shudder. His disappointment would be palpable, his reprimands sharp. It wasn't that I personally had any qualms about seeking advice—far from it.

But my father’s disdain for any sign of dependence had been drilled into me from a young age. Asking for help was a sign of weakness, and weakness was something I could not afford.

Over the years, I had learned to heed his words, to tread carefully around his expectations. It had helped maintain a semblance of peace between us, but our relationship was far from perfect.

Our interactions were often strained, a delicate dance of duty and unspoken resentments. There was a part of me that longed for a closer bond, something more genuine. Yet, I knew better than to hope for too much.

I arrived at the royal hall after finally selecting what to wear. The vast, ornate space, usually reserved for grand family functions and gatherings, was now the stage for my introduction to the ladies.

Its opulence seemed to mock my inner turmoil, the gilded decorations and elaborate chandeliers a stark contrast to the chaos in my mind. I was determined to meet and get to know each of these ladies, to find a connection that could possibly shape the future of our empire.

As I entered, I immediately noticed my parents, already present and clearly displeased with my tardiness. Their stern faces reminded me of the importance of punctuality, a lesson I had seemingly forgotten in my struggle with clothing. I glanced at the wall-mounted clock and felt a jolt of shock—twenty minutes late. This was unheard of for me, mostly because I have always been someone who prided himself on his punctuality.

Why hadn’t I checked the time while I was in my room? My heart pounded with a mix of anxiety and relief as I realized the ladies had not yet arrived. The only ones present were my mother, father, and two cousins.

"Crown Prince Owen Harrington greets the Emperor and Empress of Harrington Empire. My apologies for being late, it will not happen again. I did not mean any disrespect." I performed the formal greeting of our empire and bowed my head in apology, feeling the weight of their scrutiny.

"You don't need to apologize. You're my son, and since I know you, I know you will never be late unless there's a reason. You can rise; it's embarrassing for a crown prince to be bowing his head. Even for his parents," my father responded, his tone unexpectedly gentle.

"Thank you, Father," I replied, straightening up, a mixture of relief and embarrassment flooding through me. My mother smiled at me, her eyes holding a hint of understanding.

"It is very hard to see the Crown Prince of Harrington these days. I, Clara Harrington, the second princess of Harrington Empire, greet His Highness, the heir apparent to the throne of our land."

Clara's voice, smooth and practised, carried a hint of playful reproach. Her greeting was formal, yet there was an underlying familiarity in her eyes. I nodded slightly, acknowledging her with a courteous dip of my head. Clara had always been the more poised of my cousins, her demeanour perfectly tailored for court life.

Turning to my other cousin, I met the steady gaze of Justin. "The fifth prince of Harrington Empire, Justin Harrington, greets the Crown Prince of our empire." His tone was respectful, his posture rigid with the formality of our station. Again, I bowed my head slightly in return, feeling the weight of their expectations and the role I had to play.

Taking my seat next to my parents, I couldn't help but reflect on the constancy of this position. From childhood, no matter the occasion, I had always been at their side. It was a place of privilege and responsibility, the only one allowed to sit beside them and voice my thoughts during discussions.

My father had always emphasized the importance of this, a training ground for the future ruler of the empire. "It is how it's supposed to be," he would say, his voice imbued with the gravity of tradition. "It is for you to learn how to handle the empire's matters."

The doors to the royal hall opened, and the ladies began to file in, their long dresses sweeping the floor in a synchronized dance of elegance. Each one moved with the grace and poise befitting their station, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and formality. I watched them, my mind already working to form first impressions, to discern their characters from their demeanour and attire.

Then she walked in, the last of the group, dressed in a white tank top and short black tights. Her appearance was a stark contrast to the others, her attire breaking the unspoken rules of courtly decorum. I barely had time to register her outfit before something else struck me—her scent. It was intoxicating, a blend of something floral and fresh, a fragrance that seemed to wrap around me, drawing my attention away from everything else.

At that moment, the anxiety and turmoil of the day seemed to recede, replaced by a burgeoning curiosity. Who was she? Why was she dressed so differently? And why did her presence affect me so profoundly?

I'm not sure what happened to me when I saw her, but it was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. It felt as though a part of me, long dormant and forgotten, had suddenly awoken. My senses were heightened, every nerve alert and alive. Even my animals, those primal instincts that I kept carefully in check, stirred with a desire I hadn't felt in all these years of my life.

They wanted her, and I wasn't going to lie to myself—I wanted her just as badly, if not more. Her scent was intoxicating, a blend of something fresh and wild that overshadowed every other scent in the hall, even that of my parents, which had always been the strongest to me. It was as though she had woven a spell, drawing me in and holding me captive.

My mother’s voice cut through my reverie, sharp and questioning. "Owen?" she called, her tone tinged with concern. I whispered an apology, forcing myself to turn away from the girl who had captured my attention so completely. My father, ever the picture of authority, requested that the ladies introduce themselves. Yet, their words barely registered in my mind.

My thoughts were consumed by her. I had never been in love before, never felt this overwhelming pull towards another person. If this wasn’t love, then I didn't know what it was. It was as if every fibre of my being was drawn to her, an unexplainable connection that defied reason and logic.

As the introductions proceeded, I knew with a startling clarity that I didn’t need any competition to help me decide who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I already knew. No matter how long this competition would last, no matter the trials and tests that lay ahead, my heart had already chosen. It would always be her, and no one else.

I glanced at her again, this time trying to take in more details—the way she held herself, the expression on her face, the subtle movements that set her apart from the others. Each observation only deepened my conviction.

She was different, and in that difference, I found something I had been unknowingly searching for. The challenge now was to navigate the path that lay ahead, to prove not only to her but to everyone, including my father, that this choice was the right one.

When it was her turn to speak, I found myself standing up from my seat, almost as if drawn by an invisible force and making my way to where she stood. Being this close to her, I could hear her breathing, quick and uneven. I couldn't tell if it was due to nerves or fear, but it made her seem even more real, more human.

"You must bow your head when the crown prince of this empire is in front of you! How dare you stand there like you're in front of your parents," Justin snapped, his voice sharp with authority. I didn't want to argue with him today, so I raised my hand to dismiss his reprimand.

"What's your name?" I asked, my voice softer, seeking to put her at ease. She looked at me, her eyes wide with surprise.

"My name is Alyssa Ntuli, but I use both my mother's and father's last names, so it is Alyssa Montgomery-Ntuli. My greetings to you, Your Highness." Her accent was unfamiliar, confirming she was not from here. Her beauty was mesmerizing, but calling her beautiful felt like an understatement. She was the most stunning girl I had ever seen.

"You're welcome to Harrington Empire, Alyssa. I must say, you have a beautiful name." Her heartbeat quickened again, and she looked down at her feet, saying nothing.

"Where are your manners? The prince just complimented you!" Justin interjected, his tone harsh.

"Who asked you to speak?! I am the one doing the talking and I don't appreciate being interrupted by you. I am still the crown prince of this empire in case you have forgotten. Not you, Justin," I snapped, my voice firm. Justin's face turned red, and he bowed his head.

"My apologies, Your Highness."

"Let this be the last time you open your mouth while I'm still talking. Whoever disrespects me disrespects me, not you. I know how to deal with it myself. Only I have the right to tell them what's right and what's wrong. Get that into your head."

"Yes, Your Highness," Justin replied, his voice subdued.

Turning back to the assembled ladies, I gave them a small smile.

"Ladies, today you'll be joining His Majesty, me, and my son for dinner. Princess Clara will show you where the dining hall is." They all bowed their heads in respect to the Empress and followed Clara out of the hall.

As I was about to leave, my mother called out to me. "Owen, a word please." Her voice was gentle, yet I knew she had something important to say. I walked over to her, my heart still pounding from the encounter with Alyssa.

"Yes, Mother?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Mother? Is there something wrong?" I asked, noting the serious expression on her face.

"Not entirely, but if I don't say anything, then I'm afraid this is going to continue," she replied, her voice calm but firm.

"I'm lost," I admitted, genuinely confused by her concern.

"I don't like the way you spoke to your cousin in front of strangers. He is a prince of this land, and even though he is inferior to you, you shouldn't undermine him in front of outsiders."

My father interjected, asking the exact question that was on my mind. "So what you're saying is that my son must allow Justin to walk over his head?"

I hated making people feel inferior, but I also had my limits. As the future emperor of this empire, I needed to make it clear that I would not tolerate disrespect. "Don't get me wrong, Your Majesty," my mother responded quickly. "I'm not saying he should let Justin undermine him, but he should've at least waited until those girls left before saying what he said to him. How do you think those girls will treat Justin after what happened? They will treat him with no respect, and we won't be able to do anything about it."

"He should've thought about that before talking while I was still talking. What you're saying doesn't make sense, Mother," I countered, feeling a surge of frustration. "You're saying that I shouldn't undermine him in front of outsiders, but you don't understand that if I just stood there and did nothing or maybe waited until those girls left, that would mean that I had allowed him to undermine me and my authority in front of those same girls.

"It doesn't matter how you want to put it, but I do know that I would rather undermine him than allow him to undermine me. I have had enough of Justin! He needs to be reminded that there is only one crown prince of Harrington Empire, and that is me, not him."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my emotions. "I thought you knew me, Mother. You know I wouldn't just talk to someone like that unless there is a reason behind it. Justin was provoking me, and I gave him what he deserved. I'm not going to apologize for that. I will still do the same if I get the chance. Excuse me."

"You can go," my father said, his voice a mixture of support and understanding. I thanked him and left, my appetite gone but knowing I had to join the dinner to avoid further disrespect.

"I think everybody saw that you're interested in her. I don't blame you, though; she's beautiful, and I like her brown skin," Clara's voice interrupted my thoughts.

I turned to see her leaning casually against a pillar. Where had she come from? And why wasn't she with our guests? "Aren't you supposed to be in the dining hall?" I asked.

"It's boring. Those ladies aren't saying anything, and I think they're afraid of saying something in front of me. Everybody knows that I'm the only person who is close to you," she replied with a playful smile.

"Don't flatter yourself," I said, though I couldn't help but smirk.

"It's the truth, though. I'm kidding. I just thought they weren't comfortable with me being there, so I gave them space. Now that you're here, I can go back."

Clara had always been a free spirit. Her love for travelling meant she rarely came home. As children, we had been inseparable, talking and playing endlessly. But things changed as we grew up. She had her first boyfriend at fifteen, and I remembered how we kept it a secret, unsure of how our parents would react.

She would sneak out to see him, and I would cover for her. I still recall the day she came back in tears because he had cheated on her. I had comforted her, and though she eventually got over it, the pain had left a mark.

I thought she wouldn’t date again for a long time, but two years later, when she was seventeen, she met Scott. They fell in love at first sight, and she wouldn’t stop talking about him. It was cute, seeing her so happy and in love.

She made me want to fall in love because I wanted to feel what she felt, but I knew I couldn't, even if I wanted to. I remember how I wished I were also a girl because then I could fall in love with any guy I wanted, not just one of the twenty girls my father had chosen for me.

"What are you thinking? You seem to be miles away from here," Clara's voice pulled me back to the present.

"Nothing much. I was just thinking about how things were when we were younger," I replied with a nostalgic smile.

"Everything was so simple at that time. Remember when we broke Justin's father's vase?" Clara asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"How can I forget?!" I laughed, recalling the incident vividly. I thought my uncle was going to bury us alive. We wanted to hide it, but before we could, Justin saw us and told his dad.

My father had tried to smooth things over, offering to pay for the vase or have an exact copy made, but my uncle had surprised us all by saying it was okay because the vase was a fake. The original had been broken years before by my aunt, the first princess of Harrington. I was so relieved when I found out.

"I was so happy when I found out," I continued, shaking my head at the memory. "We thought we were done for."

Clara giggled, a sound that brought back the carefree days of our childhood. "We had some good times, didn't we?"

"Yeah, we did," I agreed, feeling a warmth spread through me. "Those were the days when everything felt simpler, and the biggest worry we had was getting caught for our mischief."

As we reminisced, I noticed Alyssa watching us from across the room. Our eyes met, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The connection I felt towards her was undeniable.

Clara must have noticed the direction of my gaze because she nudged me playfully. "Looks like someone has caught your eye."

I couldn't help but smile, feeling a mix of excitement and uncertainty. "I guess."