"No, I don't want to see the Crown Prince. Why is he even here?" Dahlia muttered in irritation.
"Your Highness, refusing to see the Crown Prince isn't wise," Nylie, her trusted lady-in-waiting, advised gently, though her tone carried a note of caution.
"I know," Dahlia admitted, but the frustration in her voice didn't fade. "But he makes me sick." She paused, her gaze hardening as she glanced at the door. "Just tell him I'm sleeping."
Nylie hesitated. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but I told His Highness I would ask you first before sending him away," she said, her voice quiet but firm, knowing the delicate balance they walked with the Crown Prince.
Dahlia groaned, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Agh! Fine," she muttered, sliding off the edge of the bed, her bare feet hitting the cold floor. "I don't understand what more he has to say to me. He's already punished me severely—what else does he want?" She began to mumble to herself, anger bubbling beneath the surface.
