Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 193: Mansions Prince Charming.

Chapter 193: Mansions Prince Charming.

Afternoon.

Lena’s, Marketplace.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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In the bustling marketplace, under the warm hues of the midday sun, Conan who had his chestnut brown hair gelled all the way back giving him a clean edgy look, navigated through the maze of stalls and vendors with purposeful strides.

His tailored jacket, a rich navy blue, complemented the earthy tones of his hair, while his confident demeanor drew glances from passersby. He offered smiles to those who acknowledged him and left the fawning misses to fend for their hearts.

As he strolled, his keen eyes scanned the vibrant array of goods on display, until they settled upon a quaint flower cart adorned with a riot of colors.

A gentle breeze ruffled his hair as he approached, his gaze fixated on a delicate blossom, its petals a soft blush pink.

With a practiced hand, he selected the perfect bloom, its fragrance sweet and intoxicating.

With the flower delicately clasped in his grasp, he continued his journey through the marketplace, his destination clear in his mind.

Soon, he arrived at a small shop adorned with an inviting display of plush pillows in an assortment of patterns and fabrics.

The tinkling of a bell announced his arrival as he stepped inside.

He smiled, his heart doing a movement he didn’t know humans could survive without being diagnosed of an illness.

"I desire a pillow" a gruff voice cut through the bustling market noise to the owner of the shop.

"How many pieces and what texture and colour would you want?" Helena asked from her slightly bent position from inside the shop without confirming who the customer was.

"Whatever would get you to glance at me, milady" Conan let out after a clear of his throat.

"Oh" she gasped before swirving to meet the customers gaze and as her ocean blue eyes met his face, her heart roared complimenting her widened eyes.

"Conan!" she squealed before her face reddened at her excited out burst.

It was just sir obnoxious, her mind chided but she ignored it and gave him her biggest and most comfortabl smile as she

Conan looked slightly towards the sky and down to her as he thought.

There she was, the object of his affection, her smile as warm and welcoming as the sunlit glow filtering through the shop window.

She greeted him with a cheerful hello, her eyes sparkling with genuine delight.

"What are those?" she asked primly pointing at his wrist and what he was holding.

"Flowers" he deadpanned.

With a flourish, he presented her with the flower, a silent gesture of his burgeoning affection.

"For you" he added when he caught the reddening of her cheeks.

She accepted it with a soft laugh, her fingers brushing against his as she admired the gift.

In that fleeting moment, their eyes met, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. "Come, sit, I have tea" she invited him inside.

He shook his head. "Thank you but I have to go, I shall be back to take you home"

"Do not let my presence stop you from continuing your work" he advised with a laugh.

She chuckled lightly. "I shall not, do not forget to come back"

"I cannot forget, one must always come back home" he assured her with words poets struggled to write.

As she turned to tend to her shop, he lingered in the doorway, the image of her smile etched in his mind.

And so, amidst the bustling marketplace, amidst the vibrant colors and lively chatter, a connection blossomed, one as tender and hopeful as the flower he had given her.

And as he left the shop, his heart light with the promise of new beginnings, she glanced at the road watching his broad shkulders as his string legs carried him away.

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Dear Critic,

I should never call myself a gossip but this is Critic Arley and we have a lot of that to do.

So, I would ask?

Why Is the lord and lady of our dear old city back this early?

Have they perhaps become a rebellious bunch and had to be asked away? They could have run away too because there they had to be more noble than they were accustomed to.

One thing I am sure of is that they are back.

Home to us, Let us celebrate or hide? Whatever way you have chosen to live of Prince Theodore. Remember the realest of threats now exists within us.

Oh, and you, with those pretty hazel orbs, if you are reading this, I am sorry you had to see that.

The finest of eyes should only see peace.

Also, have any of you gossip mongers heard?

Rumour has it Lady Theodore is to start a new business and they are to be magic.

Everyone deserves a touch of magic.

.

Yours Welcoming,

Muckraker.

*

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*

Morning.

Kitchen, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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"She called him a prince," Dorothy squealed.

"Because he is" Joyous fawned, as she read the Muckraker’s papers from over Dorothy’s shoulders.

"Lady Theodore must feel so nice" Dorothy moaned, her ears reddening as she felt jealous of her lady.

Joyous waved it off. "We live in a mansion with a prince" she whisper-squealed.

Dorothy as if just realising faced Joyous abruptly. "He could be our prince charming" she suggested.

"Silly, if we are caught, Lady Theodore would not be the one to issue a punishment but Lord Theodore himself" Joyous countered with a laugh.

"He is a prince and we-" a voice that startled the girls cut Dorothy off. "What are you gossiping about?" he asked. The girls turned urgently before rolling their eyes.

Gabriel.

It was only Gabriel.

"That question alone instigates you as a gossip monger" Joyous retorted immediately moving towards the hot pot.

"The muckraker is corrupting our girls" the boy said disgruntled.

Joyous rolled her eyes. "The muckraker merely writes the truth, sometimes a brute but decent"

Dorothy perked up. "A brute?"

"You think she is male?" Gabriel asked suspiciously.

"Why does the gossip have to be a woman?"

"Because women kiss and tell" Gabriel retorted cockily while Joyous eyes him disturbingly.

A sound from the entrance through the mansion drew their attention. "I heard you talking about our girls, boy you, I am sure have never kissed before" she jumped into a topic.

Gabriel flustered tried to explain. "Miss Helena, I..." he trailed off when made a shush sign.

"Tell me then, do you know the art of kissing, poetically it is the most beautiful form of showing affection, keeping the lips in a sync of-" she trailed off to a loud clear of throat

Dreading the results she took a while to look behind her and confirm who it was, and wgeb she finally did, the embarrassment wasn’t worth the knowledge she was passing onto the young lads and lasses.

"Conan" she gasped, her cheeks reddening.

He had come back to her shop to pick her up as promised yesterday and nothing had made her happier, he had come to her with another flower and she couldn’t say another thing but thank you, the ride home was silent, comfortable perhaps to him but she wished they’d talked about what eas happening.

"A cup of water?" Conan asked

"Yes, of course" she answered quickly but because of the situation she forgot to move an inch.

A clear of throat again made her meet his eyes so he cocked his brow towards her back, with confusion she glanced back.

"Oh" she breathed before letting out a nervous chuckle as she moved away for Dorothy to hand the knight a cup of water.

Conan with a smile left the kitchen, he was happy he still had some sort of effect on her.

"I shall leave now" Helena announced a moment late, rushing out of the kitchen, she had been excited they were holding her papers but their opinions can wait, she needed to save herself.

"Thank you for the lessons Miss Helena!" Gabriels husky voice followed her retreating figure.

"Poetry!" She yelled back as she rushed up the stairs.