17

Adrian was looking at his reflection in the mirror as Isabelle rubbed olive oil on his scars.

He sighed, "I used to be handsome."

She looked at him in the mirror and he raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing," she shook her head.

She placed the lid on and set the oil aside.

"You're going to the main palace, are you aware?"

"No," she said. "Why?"

"I told you Nefertiti was getting married, didn't I? What would you be doing here when you're supposed to be helping her out until then?"

He shook his head at her and walked to the bed. "All you do is sneak out," he muttered.

"When is the wedding?" She asked meekly.

"In a week," he groaned. "You can take Lydia with you. The royal carriage will arrive soon."

"Will you be okay alone?"

He sat up and looked at her with a weird face. After pulling his lips in for a while, he let out an hysterical laughter. Her jaw dropped open. She had never seen him like that. Suppressing his laughter for a while, he snapped his fingers