Chapter 805 - 363: Princess Mette

Chapter 805: Chapter 363: Princess Mette

About half an hour later, two Bahamas customs officers in white uniforms boarded the Polaris.

They politely but efficiently checked the three people’s passports and the yacht’s documents.

After confirming that all the information was correct and stamping the entry seal on their cruising permit, the leading officer smiled at Lin Yu’an.

"Welcome to the Bahamas, Captain. You’re now free to move about."

"Thank you."

After the officers left the boat, Mike walked over to the mast and said to Lin Yu’an, "Captain, it’s your turn now."

Lin Yu’an nodded, stepped forward and untied the line of the yellow "Q" quarantine flag that signaled "request," slowly lowering it.

With the quarantine flag coming down, this passage across the Gulf Stream was, in both law and ritual, finally brought to a truly perfect close.

Yet the oppressive air hanging over the dock did not dissipate in the slightest.

Riven kept silently tidying the lines on deck. Every movement looked mechanical and deliberate, and her gaze deliberately avoided the massive black sailboat beside them.

Mike, his face gloomy, took two bottles of beer from the cooler, handed one to Lin Yu’an, then gulped down half of his own, as if trying to drown his irritation in alcohol.

Just then, on the black sailboat named "Asgard," the electric gangway at the stern slowly descended and settled steadily onto the dock.

A woman with an elegant figure and extraordinary bearing stepped out from the cabin.

She looked to be in her forties or so. Time seemed to have favored her, leaving only a few faint smile lines at the corners of her eyes, adding a mature charm.

Her soft, flaxen hair was loosely gathered at the back of her head, revealing a smooth forehead and a long swan neck.

She wore a simply cut white linen dress and was barefoot, without a single piece of glittering jewelry on her body, yet she exuded a kind of inimitable nobility.

Her features were extremely delicate, especially those blue eyes identical to Riven’s. Though age had added a touch of weariness, they were still as clear as the water of a fjord lake.

She simply stood there at the top of the gangway, her gaze crossing more than ten meters, watching the deliberately busy Riven with a tenderness shot through with complexity.

"Sweetheart..." she finally spoke, her voice gentle as an April spring breeze. "Can you come down so we can talk?"

At the familiar term of endearment, Riven’s body suddenly went rigid, and the rope in her hands seemed to turn scalding hot.

She slowly straightened up, turned her head, and met that gentle gaze.

"Princess Mette," she said, her voice icy, deliberately using the other woman’s official title, as if drawing an unbridgeable chasm between them.

The woman addressed as "Princess Mette" was Riven’s mother, now the Crown Princess Consort of Norway, Mette Liv.

A trace of hurt flickered across her face, quickly replaced by a helpless, bitter smile.

She ignored Riven’s coldness and instead turned her gaze to Mike, giving a slight nod, her tone calm and mild:

"Mike, it’s been a long time. You’re still the same, like a piece of old teak hardened by sea water and sun."

Mike set down his beer bottle, leaned against the rail with his arms folded, and looked at her with an extremely complicated expression, one that held both nostalgia and resignation.

"Mette," his voice was low and husky, "you’re still the same too—beautiful, noble, cold."

His tone carried no hatred, only a detached stating of fact.

Princess Mette seemed long accustomed to this "guard dog" posture of his. She sighed, and her gaze returned to Riven.

She softened her stance, a hint of pleading entering her voice. "Riven, don’t be like this. I just... didn’t expect to run into you here."

"I booked a table at Dune Restaurant on Paradise Island for tonight. I just want... just want to have dinner with you and talk properly."

"I don’t want to go." Riven’s reply was crisp and decisive. "My crew and I still have a lot to deal with. We’re very busy."

"Crew?" Only then did Princess Mette properly turn her gaze on Lin Yu’an, who was standing beside Riven.

She took in this unfamiliar East Asian man from head to toe, her eyes full of subtle, restrained scrutiny.

She saw the steady calm in him, and she also saw the tiny movement when Riven said "my crew" and unconsciously leaned half a step towards him.

"And this is?"

"Lin Yu’an, our captain." Riven introduced him simply, her tone carrying a faint, unquestionable protectiveness.

"Captain Lin, hello." Princess Mette gave a polite nod, but her attention clearly wasn’t on Lin Yu’an.

She looked back at Mike, a note of helplessness in her voice. "Mike, can’t you try to talk her around? She only listens to you now."

Mike finally turned to face her, this woman who was both familiar and estranged. "Mette, she’s no longer that five-year-old little girl who needed me to make decisions for her."

"She’s now an outstanding captain. Go or not go—she has the right to decide for herself. You don’t need to ask me, and you shouldn’t be asking me."

Those words not only handed the choice entirely back to Riven, they also made something clear to Mette.

You missed the age when she needed you to make decisions; now, you no longer have that right.

A flicker of pain passed through Princess Mette’s eyes, but she hid it well.

She drew a deep breath, looked at Riven again, and gave a smile so gentle it was almost ingratiating: