Episode 7

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the velvet curtains of the guest room, painting golden streaks across Ariel’s bedspread. But Ariel had no intention of greeting the day. She stood barefoot near the door, ear pressed flat against it, straining to catch any sound from the hallway.

Nothing… no footsteps… She bit her lip. If Carl was lurking somewhere, she’d rather know before stepping out.

A sudden knock on the door made her jump so high her towel slipped off her shoulder. Heart racing, she pressed a hand to her chest. “Who is it?” she whispered, her voice shaky.

“It’s me, Your Highness,” came the gentle voice of a maid.

Ariel exhaled, opened the door a crack, and quickly tugged the maid inside. “Don’t scare me like that!” she hissed, rubbing her temples dramatically. “What’s happening downstairs? Have you seen Carl this morning? Is he… acting strange?”

The maid glanced around nervously, then, realizing Carl wasn’t within earshot, she allowed herself a small grin—something no servant would dare do in Carl’s presence. “Nothing strange, my lady. His Highness went to the office early. Only the Queen is downstairs, and she’s requested to see you.”

Ariel narrowed her eyes. “Carl’s gone?”

“Yes, ma’am. Hours ago.”

“Good. At least I won’t have to face that menace before breakfast.” She straightened her silk robe, smoothed her hair, and added, “Alright, you can go. Tell the Queen I’ll be down once I’m… composed.”

When the maid left, Ariel tiptoed down the stairs like a cat burglar. The marble steps seemed to echo her every move. At the bottom, Queen Magarette was waiting by a long table, teacup in hand.

“Darling,” the Queen said warmly, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is something wrong?”

Ariel forced a laugh that came out more like a squeak. “Wrong? No! Everything is fine. Perfect, even.”

But before she could sit, the front door opened, and Carl strode in, tall and effortless, his navy suit crisp as if the morning commute had polished him instead of wrinkled him. “Forgot my keys,” he said casually, but when his eyes locked on Ariel, his lips curled into a maddeningly smug smile.

Why is he back so soon? Ariel’s thoughts spun. Is he haunting me on purpose? She turned sharply, pretending to admire a vase.

Carl didn’t move. He just stood there grinning like a cat who’d cornered a mouse.

Queen Magarette, watching the silent standoff, arched an eyebrow. “Something tells me you two didn’t spend last night peacefully.”

She beckoned a maid closer and whispered, “What happened between them? When I was on the poolside call last night, I heard them scream.”

The maid hesitated, then said sheepishly, “We… we don’t really know, Your Majesty. Just… some shouting.”

The Queen smirked knowingly. “Oh my poor Ariel,” she said aloud, deliberately loud enough for them to hear.

Carl and Ariel snapped their heads toward her in unison, plastering fake smiles on their faces. “What are you saying, Mom?” they chimed together, their voices strained.

Magarette only sipped her tea, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Carl mumbled something unintelligible and bolted out the door, jangling his recovered keys.

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At Carl’s Office

The headquarters of Zubrel Industries was its usual cathedral of glass and steel, the lobby hushed as always. Employees tended to walk lightly when Carl was around; his reputation for ruthlessness preceded him.

But when he strode in this morning, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. A smile—small, but unmistakable.

“Was… was that a smile?” whispered one receptionist to another.

Even Carl’s personal assistant froze, blinking in shock. Carl didn’t notice. He was replaying memories in his mind: Ariel cuddling him in front of their parents to make him jealous, the towel slipping from her shoulders, the way she had tiptoed like a thief this morning.

By the time he reached his private office, he couldn’t hold it in. He burst out laughing—a big, unguarded laugh that echoed off the glass walls.

His assistant poked his head through the door. “Boss… are you alright?”

Carl straightened instantly, smoothing his tie, his face snapping back into its usual mask of authority. “What do you mean?” he barked. “Get out of my sight, you moron!”

The word moron made him chuckle again, remembering Ariel’s teasing insult. He clamped his lips together but a snicker slipped out anyway. Outside, employees exchanged nervous glances. What is wrong with our boss today?

After Carl stormed out of the house, the sound of the front door slamming echoed through the grand hallway. The maids, who had been standing stiff as statues during his brief visit, finally exhaled in unison.

One of them—Lina, the youngest—peeked around the corner toward the door. “Is he… gone?”

“Gone,” whispered Mariam, clutching the feather duster like a weapon.

The third maid, Elara, grinned wickedly. “Did you see the way he looked at the princess? I thought the chandeliers might shatter from the tension.”

Lina giggled. “Or melt. He was smiling like a lovesick puppy!”

Mariam gasped. “Careful! If His Highness hears you, we’ll all be polishing the palace floors with toothbrushes.”

They all snickered but lowered their voices as Queen Magarette passed by. Once the Queen disappeared into her study, Elara whispered, “I’ll bet you ten gold coins that by next week, they’ll be sneaking kisses behind the royal garden fountain.”

Lina smirked. “Ten gold coins says they’ll be throwing plates at each other first.”

The trio dissolved into laughter, their whispers fading as they returned to their chores—completely unaware that Ariel, tiptoeing back up the stairs, had heard every word.

Ariel paused mid-step, cheeks flushing. Throwing plates? Sneaking kisses? Ugh! She stomped up the stairs, muttering under her breath, “Over my dead body.”

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Back at the Palace

Meanwhile, Ariel had locked herself in the guest room. She sat on the edge of the bed, head gently bumping the wall in mock despair. “Ugh! I feel like dying. The shame is killing me already. How will I ever face him again?”

A soft knock came at the door. “Your Highness? Your food.”

“I don’t want to eat. I want to die,” Ariel moaned theatrically.

The maid slipped inside with a tray, setting it carefully on the vanity. “Don’t be upset, my princess. His Highness can be… brutal. But you will overcome this.”

Ariel’s sniffles stopped. She turned slowly toward the maid, eyes glinting with sudden determination. “Overcome…?” She stood, her posture straightening. “Yes. That’s it. I must not let him win. I must make him surrender.”

She strode to the mirror, smoothing her hair and lifting her chin. Her reflection showed a princess, yes—but also a challenger ready for battle. “Carl, you scoundrel,” she whispered to herself, her lips curling into a sly smile. “I will win.”