Chapter 7: Whispers of Intrigue

Sonne's expression was unreadable as he gestured towards a cluster of elegantly dressed individuals engaged in lively conversation. Caspian, following his gaze, recognized several prominent merchants and business magnates, their attire a flamboyant display of luxurious fabrics and glittering jewels.

"Actually," Sonne explained, his voice calm and measured, "some merchants, like myself, are invited. The Royal Family recognizes the contributions of all its citizens, not just those with titles." He met Caspian's gaze, a hint of amusement flickering on his eyes. "And since I supply the finest strawberries in Snowfall, I had an invite." he added proudly.

Caspian, momentarily taken aback by Sonne's logic and unwavering confidence, felt a blush creep up his neck. Of course, he's aware that some wealthy and influential individuals are invited to such occasions, despite not being nobles. He is also aware that not all nobles are wealthy and are more than willing to associate themselves with the wealthy ones. His own family had faced financial difficulties in the past, a consequence of his father's generous spirit and penchant for grand gestures that often emptied the royal coffers.

Still, the idea of a simple strawberry merchant, even one as undeniably captivating as Sonne, receiving an invitation to such an exclusive event seemed… improbable. His suspicions, far from being assuaged, intensified.

"Indeed," Caspian conceded, his tone clipped, nodding briefly as he took a brief respite to gather his thoughts. Sonne, despite his seemingly innocuous occupation and disarming charm, was proving to be a formidable opponent in their unspoken game of wits.

He's good, Caspian thought, studying Sonne's relaxed posture, the easy way he blended into the crowd despite his height and commanding presence. Too good.

Caspian was no fool. He had grown up surrounded by courtiers and diplomats, masters of deception and intrigue. He knew how to read people, how to spot a lie in the flicker of an eyelid, a tremor in a voice. And something about Sonne, something beneath the surface of his easy charm and those captivating eyes, set off alarm bells in Caspian's mind.

He decided on a different tactic, one designed to catch Sonne off guard. "Tell me, Sonne," Caspian began, his voice softening slightly, "what is it like? Tending to a strawberry field, I mean." He leaned in conspiratorially, feigning interest. "It must be rather… peaceful."

He watched Sonne's reaction closely, searching for any sign of deception. If Sonne was indeed a spy, his knowledge of strawberry cultivation would likely be limited to hastily memorized facts and figures.

Let's see you talk your way out of this one, Caspian thought, a flicker of triumph sparking in his sapphire eyes as he subtly bit his inner lip.

Sonne’s eyes twinkled with amusement, his gaze holding Caspian’s with an intensity that sent a thrill of excitement through the prince, making his breath hitch. "It’s a personal experience," Sonne mused, his voice a low rumble that seemed to reverberate in the air between them, "different for everyone. Personally, I love being surrounded by strawberries."

He paused, tilting his head slightly, and a slow, captivating smile spread across his lips. "If you want, I can show you around sometime."

The invitation hung in the air, heavy with unspoken possibilities. Caspian, usually so in control, felt his heart quicken at the suggestion. The thought of spending time with Sonne, of walking through rows of ripening strawberries under the summer sun, was surprisingly appealing.

He quickly pushed the image from his mind. Get a grip, Caspian, he scolded himself internally. This Sonne, this handsome, attractive, and suspicious stranger... was clearly playing a game, and Caspian refused to be a pawn in his elaborate charade.

"How… charming." Caspian finally replied, his voice carefully devoid of any hint of his inner turmoil. He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "A tour of your strawberry fields? Is that the best you can offer, Sonne?"

He shifted his feet and crossed his arms, his eyes never leaving Sonne’s face. Caspian was determined to see through Sonne's facade, to uncover the truth hidden beneath those layers of tempting words. He was certain Sonne was hiding something, something far more intriguing than strawberries.

Just a matter of time, Caspian thought, a flicker of determination sparking in his sapphire eyes, before I unravel your secrets.

Sonne puffed his chest out slightly, a hint of pride in his voice. "Of course, my farm is not just any farm. It's located on the border of Snowfall and Eternal Summer." He paused, letting the information sink in. "The climate there is perfect, you see. Just the right balance for growing the finest strawberries you'll ever taste."

Caspian had to stifle a laugh, subtly rolling his eye. The audacity of this man, this "strawberry merchant," to boast about his produce as if it were a rare gem or a priceless work of art. And the location? The border of Snowfall and Eternal Summer! It was a volatile region, rife with political tension and whispered rumors of unrest. What kind of simple strawberry farmer would choose to establish their livelihood in such a precarious location?

"Before you dismiss my strawberries, Your Highness," Sonne continued, leaning in conspiratorially, "at least experience the tour first. Then, you can tell me if my claim is justified."

His words were accompanied by a disarming smile and a look that seemed to see right through Caspian’s practiced mask.

Caspian found himself torn. On the one hand, his instincts screamed at him to back away, to dismiss Sonne as an elaborate charlatan. But there was something about Sonne, something in his unwavering confidence and those captivating eyes, that drew Caspian in, like a moth to a flickering flame.

He shifted again, looking away to gather his thoughts. This Sonne was an enigma, a puzzle he couldn't resist trying to solve. The fact that his every instinct screamed danger only made the challenge more enticing.

Caspian eyed Sonne, who was looking at him with mild amusement, a wave of suspicion washing over him. The border of Snowfall and Eternal Summer was a haven for smugglers, mercenaries, and those with something to hide. It was the last place Prince Caspian, second in line to the throne, should be venturing, especially with a stranger whose true intentions remained a mystery.

"A tempting offer, Sonne." Caspian conceded, his tone laced with a hint of skepticism. "But forgive me if I find your invitation a tad… unconventional."

"Perhaps," Caspian suggested, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone, "you could provide some proof of your… agricultural endeavors. A merchant’s license, perhaps, or a royal seal authorizing your trade across the border?"

Caspian knew he was being overly cautious, even bordering on rude. But something about Sonne, with his too-charming smile and those unnervingly perceptive eyes, set his instincts on high alert. A simple strawberry farmer wouldn't be so comfortable in a room full of nobles and dignitaries, wouldn't meet his gaze with such unwavering confidence.

He's hiding something, Caspian thought, his grip tightening imperceptibly on his crossed arm. And I won't rest until I find out what it is.

A low chuckle rumbled in Sonne's chest, drawing Caspian's gaze to the way the sound seemed to vibrate through the air around them. "Proof? Of course, Your Highness." Sonne shook his head, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as if he found Caspian's suspicions more amusing than insulting.

With a deliberate move that showcased the smooth lines of his form beneath the simple black fabric, Sonne reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and retrieved a worn leather wallet. It was plain, devoid of any ostentatious embellishments, yet it spoke of quality, of a quiet prosperity that belied his supposed profession.

"I apologize for the state of my photo," Sonne said, handing Caspian a small card. "I'm afraid I wasn't quite prepared for a portrait session when it was taken."

Caspian took the offered identification, his brow furrowing as he examined it. The card identified Sonne as a registered merchant within the Kingdom of Snowfall, authorized to trade his goods within the realm. And then he saw the photo.

It depicted Sonne, hair slightly more tousled than its current impeccable style, staring directly at the camera with a smoldering intensity that sent an unexpected jolt through Caspian, making him gulp subtly. His lips were curved in a half-smile, playful yet undeniably alluring, as if he were trying to charm the photographer. The name printed beneath the image read: Sonne Dial.

Caspian fought to maintain his composure, schooling his features into an impassive mask. The photo, the name, everything about Sonne screamed contradiction. He was a puzzle box, each layer revealing another layer of intrigue. Was he truly a simple strawberry farmer, content with his lot in life? Or was this all an elaborate facade, a carefully crafted persona designed to lull unsuspecting souls into a false sense of security?

"Sonne Dial," Caspian echoed aloud, testing the way the name felt on his tongue. A slow, dangerous smile spread across the prince's face. It was almost too perfect, too… on the nose. "Sonne Dial… like 'sundial'?" he mused, his voice laced with a playful, yet slightly menacing, lilt. "How… intriguing."

Sonne, for his part, merely blinked, his expression a picture of perfect innocence. "Is there something amusing about my name, Your Highness?" he inquired, tilting his head slightly. If he caught the wordplay, he didn't let on.

Caspian's gaze narrowed. The longer he interacted with Sonne Dial, the more convinced he became that this "strawberry merchant" was playing an elaborate game. But to what end? And what was his true purpose in attending his brother's engagement gala?

"Not at all, Master Dial," Caspian purred, handing the identification card back to Sonne with slow grace. He would have his advisors look into this "Sonne Dial," see if such a person even existed beyond the flimsy evidence of this card. "It's… memorable, to say the least."

The music swelled, signaling the start of a new dance. Couples began to swirl across the ballroom floor, their laughter and conversation a soft murmur in the grand hall.

"May I have the honor of this dance, Your Highness?" Sonne suddenly whispered softly, his voice like a gentle breeze on the winter evening. He extended his hand towards Caspian with a slow, graceful motion, as if the very stars had aligned to bring them together in this magical moment.

The music suddenly seemed muted in the slow-motion moment. Caspian hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to decline, to put as much distance between himself and this enigmatic stranger as possible. But another part of him, a part that thrived on intrigue and relished a good challenge, urged him to accept.

He glanced at Sonne's outstretched hand, a magnetic pull drawing his eyes to the graceful gesture, a silent invitation to a world beyond the ballroom. The man was an enigma, a puzzle Caspian couldn't resist trying to solve.

Just one dance, Caspian promised himself as he surrendered to the moment, his fingers lingering as they met Sonne's, accepting the invitation. A spark ignited in his chest, promising something more than a simple waltz. What could possibly go wrong?