Witch's Daughter And The Devil's Son

On the seventh day, after the conference concluded, Cian made his way to have a meal with the royal family of Othinia. He was personally escorted by the first Prince of Othinia, Crown Prince Reuben Nefertiti.

Arriving at the main palace, Cian was greeted by the entire Nefertiti family. Memories flooded back to him as he stepped into the grand royal palace where he had played as a child, under the reign of his grandfather, Niobe's father. Back then, he had been treated like a treasure by everyone here as Niobe, his mother, doted on him.

These childhood connections had proven invaluable during his current mission.

As they entered the King's palace, Cian was met by the King and Queen, along with the King's other two sons.

"Greetings, Your Majesty, King and Queen," Cian greeted them with a polite bow.

"Prince Cian, it's our pleasure to have you here. Please, take a seat," the King said with a warm smile, gesturing towards a chair. "I trust you've been well looked after by the royal family."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Cian replied, taking his seat.

"You should still address me as your uncle, just as you did in the past when you were a child," the King suggested kindly.

Cian responded with a polite smile. "I dare not, Your Majesty, as your status is that of a King."

"That doesn't matter. We are family, after all," the King insisted.

Cian understood the King's intentions – to maintain their familial bond with coming prospectus of marriage, but he had no such plan yet.

While he harbored no ill feelings towards the King, who had treated him well in the past and was Niobe's cousin, he couldn't easily disregard the difference in their positions.

"I will try," Cian simply replied, and then the King said, "Though you have not visited here often in the last decade, you must still remember my other sons."

"I do," Cian affirmed, glancing at the other two sons and offering them a polite nod, which they reciprocated.

The King turned to his wife. "Where is Ayira?"

"She will arrive here soon," she answered, signaling to her attendant, who promptly left to convey the message.

'Ayira?' Cian repeated in his mind. 'Seems like a Princess of Othinia.'

The King's aide informed them that arrangements had been made, and everyone proceeded to the grand dining room. A magnificent rectangular dining table dominated the center of the room, adorned with a stunning chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

The entire room was adorned in the opulent style of Othinian architecture, characterized by the abundance of gold, a reflection of the Othinians' fondness for the precious metal deeply ingrained in their culture.

The King took his place at the head of the table, with the Queen seated to his left and one prince beside her. Cian sat opposite them, flanked by Crown Prince Reuben and the youngest prince, Nicolas.

Just as everyone was seated, a newcomer entered the dining room. Cian, engaged in conversation with Reuben, caught the soft jingling sound of bells adorning jewelry.

"Apologies, Father, for being late," a sweet voice echoed through the dining room.

Cian wished to catch a glimpse of the familiar voice's owner, but his view was obstructed by Prince Reuben and Nicolas sitting beside him. It wouldn't be appropriate to lean forward or back to get a better look.

"It's alright, Ayira," the king said with a gentle smile. "Have a seat."

"Thank you, Father," came the reply. A beautiful woman, dressed in traditional Othinian royal attire, approached.

With the soft jingle of her jewelry, Cian finally spotted her as she made her way to the chair. His blue eyes widened in surprise.

As she settled into the seat beside her mother, Ayira's gaze met the eyes of the unfamiliar figure seated opposite her. It felt as though the ground had shifted beneath her feet. Though his eyes betrayed his surprise at seeing her, his demeanor remained composed, prompting her to gather herself as well.

When two thieves found themselves together, even by accident, an unspoken agreement to remain calm and conceal their true nature prevailed.

"Ayira, allow me to introduce you to our guest," the King began. "This is Prince Cian Ilven of Abetha." He turned to Cian. "And she is my daughter, Princess Ayira."

With a practiced calm, they exchanged polite nods of greeting, as if they were meeting for the first time.

"We shall begin," the King announced, signaling the start of the meal, as the servants had already served the food.

Cian's mind grappled with the incredulous coincidence he was experiencing. The ordinary noblewoman with a windmill, the courageous leader of that mysterious group, and now this well mannered and obedient princess of Othinia – they were one and the same. How many identities did this Princess truly possess?

Meanwhile, Ayira did her best to calm herself. She had more to hide under the rug than this prince, and she hoped he would keep his mouth shut – a belief she held firmly, based on their last encounter. She knew him to be a man of morals, not one to blabber indiscreetly.

"Prince Cian, when you last visited my family with your mother, Ayira was just a few years old. I remember she had just started talking," the King remarked. "So you must not have any memories of her."

Cian nodded, acknowledging the King's observation. Indeed, he had no recollection of the princess. "Later, I was preoccupied with studying and training, so I couldn't visit here often. However, I did come to Othinia to pay my respects to the previous King before his passing."

"At that time, we couldn't meet as I was busy attending to the kingdom's affairs that my uncle had entrusted to me before he passed away," the King explained.

"I am aware of it," Cian replied.

Ayira stole a glance at Cian, noticing how different he looked from their encounter in the forest. Now, he exuded the unmistakable aura of a prince, and even in ordinary clothes, his regal bearing was evident.

Simultaneously, Cian's gaze met hers, leaving her to wonder what thoughts were swirling in his mind. To him, she looked like an entirely different person. In the forest, she had been clad in dark clothes, wrapped from head to toe, exuding a readiness to fight, far from any semblance of womanly charm. Now, she was the epitome of feminine allure, a sight that was impossible to ignore.

Her deep brown hair was styled in a long braid, adorned with tiny accessories. From head to toe, she was adorned with delicate Othinian-style jewelry, her clothes elegant and beautiful. She still wore those silk thread bangles on her delicate wrists, the same ones that had caught his attention when he first saw her. There was not a trace of wilderness about her now.

"Prince Cian, as you are here after so long, how about Ayira gives you a tour of the palace to help refresh your memories?" the Queen suggested. "My sons are still occupied with the guests who are here for the summit."

Cian glanced at the Queen. "As long as Princess Ayira wouldn't mind," he added, turning his gaze towards her.

The Queen chuckled softly. "Of course, she wouldn't mind," she said, looking at her daughter. "You'll have to show the Prince around."

"Yes, Mother," Ayira replied politely, assuming the role of the perfect obedient daughter.

Cian couldn't help but wonder if she was truly the same woman he had encountered before. She seemed adept at adapting to any situation.

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