~.~.~.~
My name is Elianna Bernstein, the daughter of a noble family graced with the marquess rank in the Sauslind Kingdom. But my titles don’t stop there, for I have another attached to my name that other noble ladies do not. I’m the fiancée of Sauslind’s Crown Prince, Prince Christopher.
Four years ago, at the age of fourteen, I left the remote countryside to step into the radiant capital and make my debut into high society. It was then, overwhelmed by the dazzling noble ladies and their daughters, that I was summoned (for some reason) to stand beside Prince Christopher as his betrothed.
While the Bernstein family did hold the rank of marquess, our political weight put us below the bottom rungs of the earl families. If you’re wondering why the crown prince would select the daughter of such a family as his bride-to-be, well...unfortunately, it wasn’t for the kind of heart-pounding romance that might excite the ladies of the world. Nor was it my blinding beauty or anything so fanciful that might appear in the dreams of a starry-eyed maiden.
No, I had faded blonde hair with slight curls and similarly dull gray eyes. My features were praised as adorable by my family but earned me disgraceful nicknames from others. I was simply a plain Jane, nothing particularly desirable about me. Prince Christopher was my complete opposite, with hair that shone like sunlight, eyes like a cloudless blue sky, prominent, stunning facial features, and a presence that lit up whatever room he entered.
So why was someone like me chosen for a position—so coveted by other marriageable noble ladies—as the crown prince’s fiancée? Well, simply because it was convenient. Our house wasn’t aligned with any of the political factions of the court, nor did we count any troublesome people of influence among our relatives. Plus, my father and brother didn’t have any interest in power (though in a way, that might disqualify them as nobles of the court). Since I didn’t hold affections for any particular individual either, I was selected as a way of reestablishing balance in a court whose political factions were vying for supremacy.
When we first met each other, Prince Christopher had glistened brilliantly as he said, “Lady Elianna, you need only stay by my side and read your books.”
My family was famous for producing a long line of book-lovers. One of our ancestors had opened a regional library in our territory and made it widely available for public access. The vast, colorful assortment of rare tomes that it contained, collected by generations of marquesses, was said to rival that of the royal library’s selection. The Bernstein family was full of eccentrics that would take a good book over having three meals a day.
I was no exception. I’d been buried in books ever since I learned to read. Where other ladies preferred dresses and jewels, I liked novel books. This had earned me a nickname that any normal girl might lament as shameful—not the more endearing alternative, “bookworm,” but rather, “Bibliophile Princess.”
Bibliophile Princess I may be, but even I knew the prince’s proposal was bizarre. For a moment I misunderstood and got the absurd idea he was selecting me to read books aloud to him. When I tilted my head in confusion, the prince went on to cite the advantages for the Bernstein family in the impending factional conflict and power struggle, presenting his demands as a business deal.
“To be perfectly frank,” he said, “if I don’t decide on a bride quickly, my mother and others around me will become insufferable.” Then he went on, “So what will it be, Lady Elianna? Now that you have made your societal debut and are of marriageable age, you won’t be able to avoid your obligations as a noble. You could settle with some other noble’s son, be forced to oversee his household affairs, all the while being dragged into the noble ladies’ social gatherings. However, wouldn’t you prefer to stay by my side and live life just reading books?”
“...Haah.”
I could more easily imagine the mental exhaustion I’d face as the betrothed of the crown prince before me than I could the hardships of being a future nobleman’s wife. Just to be clear, I realize that reaction might come off as rude toward our country’s handsome heir-to-be, but those of the Bernstein family were equally dispassionate toward anything that wasn’t a book. By that standard, it was a rather normal response from me.
Prince Christopher offered a charming smile. “If you become my fiancée, you’ll be able to turn down those engagement parties and dance parties, increasing your available reading time.” Then he amended, “Of course, you will still have to attend public events and events hosted by the royal family.”
Regardless of my opinion, there was no way a puny house such as mine could reject a request from the crown. Even someone as ignorant of the world such as I knew that his proposal was unprecedented. Basically, he was offering me, a simple noble lady, a loveless transaction.
“...I appreciate the kind offer. I was concerned for the hardships that would eventually befall me and felt melancholy over the loss of reading time I would face.”
The prince grinned, his next words like the seductive whisperings of the devil. “Besides, once you have the title of my betrothed to add to your name, you will be free to enter the royal archives, where you’ll be able to peruse and borrow to your heart’s content.”
Printed words flowed through the veins of the Bernstein family. As the daughter of said house, there was no way I wouldn’t jump at such a tempting prospect.
The royal archive, as its name implied, differed from the royal library. Access was limited to only those within the royal palace, and it held the crown’s personal, prized collection. A holy land for any book-lover.
That was the reason my father and brother—who’d sooner lock themselves away in our territory and live comfortably as custodians of the regional library, immersed in books—reluctantly worked inside the royal palace. I’d always listened eagerly as they told me about the crown’s collection of rare tomes. Now I would be able to see them for myself, touch them myself, and have access to an unexplored world. There was no greater bliss than that for a book-lover.
Prince Christopher offered a dazzling smile of his own when he saw my face beaming with joy, eyes alight. “Then our engagement is decided. I’ll be free from the nuisance of searching for a bride, and you’ll be free from your shackles as a noble lady. And in exchange for burdening you with the duty of being my betrothed, I’ll make absolutely sure your free time remains uninterrupted.”
For the first time, my heart pounded the same way it did when I touched a brand new book.
The prince was true to his word. After our engagement was announced, he ensured I could read my books freely, unburdened by my new position. I was skeptical from the outset, particularly in the beginning when the queen and her entourage incessantly invited me to their tea parties, the court ladies hounded me with their questions, and the high-ranking nobles yanked me this way and that with their expectations. Fortunately, the prince and his associates quickly (and cleverly) put an end to all that.
I’d spent the ensuing four years free from incident as the prince’s betrothed in name only, never really appearing in front of others. But now his true intentions were beginning to become clear to me. It matched the whispers going around as of late as well. Whispers that said the Bibliophile Princess was indeed a fake fiancée, and that the reason the prince still hadn’t gone through with an official marriage despite my coming of age was because, now that the political power struggle had calmed, he could finally welcome his true love to court—the real princess he’d longed for.