#cfwc

As the dance ended, she turned from Neville with a sharp, rigid movement that felt like a physical tearing of her own muscles. Her feet moved across the marble, but she felt as though she were wading through deep, suffocating water. The air in the ballroom—previously a mixture of expensive perfume and floral elegance—now tasted metallic, like blood in her throat. Every beat of the orchestra, every trill of the violins, sounded like a mockery, a soundtrack to her own undoing.

She didn't dare look back at the dance floor. If she looked at Neville, or anyone else for that matter, they would see her broken heart written all over her face. She knew the mask would fracture. She knew the tears that were stinging behind her eyes, hot and insistent, would spill over, and she would stand exposed in the middle of this vault of hollow splendour for the entire court to witness. Instead, she focused on a point in the distance—a heavy set of glass paned double doors leading to the terrace—and forced one foot in front of the other, each step a battle to keep her knees from buckling.

Behind her, Neville Vancouer stood unmoved, a jagged silhouette in the swirling crowd. He didn't follow her; not yet. Instead, he took a slow, calculated sip from a champagne flute he had plucked from a passing server, the crystal rim clinking softly against his teeth. A smirk, thin and bloodless, touched his lips as he watched the rigid line of her shoulders, the way she held her head with a defiance that was rapidly losing its foundation.

He felt a hum of triumph in his chest—a cold, oily satisfaction. He had seen the exact moment his words had punctured her, the split second where her eyes had gone vacant and then dark with a misery so profound it almost made his skin prickle with excitement.

He didn't care about the truth. The fact that Drake Walker spent his days working himself to exhaustion at the Château, his nights in a farmhouse likely pining away for her in silence, didn't matter. His words about the chambermaids were a blunt instrument, and he had wielded it perfectly. He took pleasure in the dissonance of it—that he could conjure such devastation in a royal princess within a few sentences, woven like poison into a dance.

Stable filth, he thought, his eyes tracking her retreat. He despised the very idea that she had ever looked at a servant with longing, let alone loved one. It was an insult to the station he coveted, to the royal bloodline he was determined to entwine with his own. But if she was truly in love with Drake Walker, if the man was a distraction to the princess, then Neville would simply have to be a greater one.

He adjusted his cuffs, his movements precise and feline, as he watched her reach the edge of the dance floor. She disappeared into the press of moving bodies, and he felt his heartbeat steady, rhythmic and predatory. She was wounded now. And Neville knew a wounded animal was always easier to track, easier to corner, and infinitely easier to catch. He wouldn't rush. He had the entire evening, the entire season. He had the leverage of her own heart.

He allowed himself a slow, lingering look at the space where she had been, savouring the scent of her perfume that still hung in the air—a ghost of her presence. Then, he turned back to the crowd, his face settling into a mask of polite, aristocratic boredom, biding his time until he would follow her.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Neville didn't flinch; he simply shifted his gaze, his expression smoothing into a practiced, easy charm.

"What was all that about?" The voice asked, dripping with the same bored, callous curiosity that Neville himself cultivated. Neville turned, his smile broadening into something genuine for the first time that evening.

"Lord Tariq," Neville said, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial register. "It’s been a long time, my friend."

The two men shook hands, a firm, calculated grip. Neville leaned in, his eyes gleaming with the anticipation of sharing his new, delicious secret.

"You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” he whispered, his smirk deepening. “I have so much to tell you."

*****

The gilded double doors of the ballroom loomed ahead like a mirage, but the distance between them felt infinite. Emilia’s chest heaved, her breathing shallow and frantic as she tried to navigate the sea of spinning silk and hollow laughter. Neville’s words echoed in her mind, a relentless, oily loop: making quite an impression on some of the chamber maids... the help should stick with the help.

It explained everything. The empty mail tray. The months of agonizing silence. While she had been rotting in her gilded cage, crying herself to sleep, Drake had simply moved on. He was smiling at other women. Touching them.

The heat of the room was suddenly volcanic, choking her. Tears blurred her vision, turning the massive crystal chandeliers into dizzying streaks of blinding light. Blinded by the moisture sting in her eyes, she stumbled forward, her heavy skirts twisting around her ankles.

She braced for a fall, but instead, she collided with a solid chest and arms which instantly caught her by the shoulders, steadying her.

"Em?"

Emilia gasped, looking up through a watery veil into the warm, familiar eyes of Bertrand. He looked immaculate in his House Beaumont dress suit, but his expression was creased with instant, genuine worry.

"Em, what's wrong? Has something happened?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low, protective murmur.

"I... I can't..." Emilia’s voice cracked. A hot tear finally spilled over, tracking down her carefully painted cheek. She cast a panicked, desperate look around the crowded foyer, terrified that some gossiping noble or her father’s watchful eyes would see her mask crumble.

Bertrand didn't hesitate. His grip on her arm tightened gently. "Come on," he whispered.

He guided her swiftly through the heavy gilded doors and out onto the sprawling stone terrace. The moment the heavy doors shut behind them, muffling the discordant swell of the orchestra, the biting autumn air hit Emilia’s skin. She shivered, but it was an immense relief against the suffocating, perfume-choked heat of the ballroom.

Bertrand led her to a shadowed alcove near the limestone balustrade, away from the glass doors. He turned to her, his face soft with concern. "Tell me what’s happened, Em."

The dam broke. Emilia buried her face in Bertrand’s shoulder, her frame shaking with silent, ragged sobs as he wrapped his arms around her, gently rubbing her back in a slow, soothing rhythm.

"It’s Drake," she choked out, her words muffled against his suit. "I still haven't heard from him, Bert. Not a single word. And Neville... Neville just told me that Drake has been popular with the chambermaids at Château Lumière. He's been seeing other women. I... I love him so much, Bertrand, and it’s killing me."

Bertrand let out a long, heavy sigh. He didn't pull away; he just kept his hand steady on her back, absorbing her grief. "Em... look at me."

Emilia pulled back slightly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, utterly uncaring of what it did to her taupe eyeshadow. She looked up at him, her chest still hitching.

"Drake loves you," Bertrand said, his voice quiet but incredibly firm. "I’m sure of it. Neville Vancouer is cruel, and he is highly calculating. I do not believe for a single second that what he told you is the truth."

"Then why would he say it?" she whispered, her voice raw. "How could he even know to make up such a specific lie?"

"Because he wants you, Em," Bertrand explained, a shadow of disgust crossing his features. "You know he’s been trying to win your hand, to secure the Vancouer line’s claim to the Crown, for years. And I am certain this is just his sick way of getting under your skin, of making you feel weak and isolated."

"But he doesn't know about Drake and me," Emilia protested, shaking her head. 

Bertrand offered a small, sad smile. "I wouldn't be so sure, Em. He was at the Derby, wasn't he? I’m sure he saw you and Drake together there. He would have seen the way you looked at each other. A blind man could have seen how you felt." He paused, his eyes softening with memory. "I saw it myself that very night, the night I met him. When I took him into the stable office at Applewood to speak with him... do you know what he told me?"

Emilia blinked back fresh tears. "What?"

"He told me that he would give his life for you to be happy," Bertrand said softly. "He was willing to have his own life utterly destroyed if it meant you could thrive. He didn't care about the consequences to himself, only to you."

"I would be happy if he were just with me," she sobbed, her fingers gripping Bertrand’s sleeve.

"I know, Em. I know." Bertrand squeezed her shoulder. "He loves you. But... you must understand something. While Drake loves you with everything he has, he might be keeping his distance for you. He might be realizing that your relationship... that it could destroy the Crown, and destroy you in the process. Maybe he is trying to do what he thinks is the honourable thing. Letting you go, no matter how much he destroys his own heart to do it. But that does not mean he doesn't love you."

"No, no..." Emilia shook her head, a desperate, stubborn fire flaring in her chest. "I don't want him to let go. I don't care about the Crown. I want him!"

"Shh, I know, Em," Bertrand whispered, pulling her back into a brief, comforting embrace. He looked out over the dark gardens, his own eyes suddenly turning vacant and heavy. "God, I wish things were different. I wish we could both be with whoever we want. That we could love whoever we want without consequence."

Emilia pulled back, her breath catching as she caught the profound, aching sadness reflected in her cousin's eyes. It was a mirror of her own grief, but with a different, quieter shape.

"Have... have you met someone, Bert?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Bertrand looked away, running a hand down his face as a deep, tired sigh escaped him. "I have," he admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly under the moonlight. "He works for Ramsford, as part of our public relations team. He’s wonderful, Emilia. He’s handsome, and funny, and... well, he likes me."

Bertrand let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-sob. "We’ve been working closely together for the last few weeks, pulling together the communications that will come out of House Beaumont during the course of the social season. He stayed late one night, about a week ago... just to help me with some last-minute minor details for my speech tonight. And... he kissed me."

A genuine, beautiful smile broke through Emilia’s tear-stained face. "Oh, Bert," she murmured, reaching out to squeeze his hands. "I'm so happy for you."

"I didn't want to tell you right away," Bertrand said, looking down at their joined hands. "Not after everything you’ve been through. It felt selfish."

"No, Bert. I’m so glad you did," she insisted, hugging him tightly. "You deserve happiness more than anyone."

"Thanks, Em," he whispered into her hair. "But... I know nothing can ever come of it. I am the heir to House Beaumont. I must marry a woman of equal standing, produce heirs... the scandal if anyone found out about us, about two men together..."

"So, you’re stopping it?” Emilia asked, her brows furrowing with worry. “Before it goes any further?"

"No," Bertrand said, his jaw tightening with a rare, quiet defiance. "I like him, Emilia. I’ve never felt like this before. I don't want to lose him. But the path ahead is..."

"Bert, we will work this out together, okay?" Emilia cut in, her voice gaining a sudden, fierce strength. "You and your...?”

“Daniel,” Bertrand replied, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Dan.”

“Dan,” Emilia nodded. “If it is meant to be, we will find a way. You cannot lose hope."

Bertrand looked at her, his eyes shining with gratitude. "Then promise me, Em. Promise me you will do the same. I know it hurts now, but you’ll be alright. Okay?"

Emilia offered a small, watery smile. "Thank you, Bert. I can always rely on you."

"Always, Em. Shall we head back inside?"

"Give me a few minutes," Emilia said, gesturing to her face. "I need to compose myself, and I want to be alone for just a little while."

Bertrand nodded understandingly, giving her hands one last supportive squeeze before slipping back through the heavy doors, leaving her in the quiet sanctuary of the night.

Emilia leaned her weight against the cold limestone balustrade, gulping in the crisp autumn air. The freezing wind peppered her bare shoulders with goosebumps, but the physical chill was a welcome shock to her system, dulling the frantic, suffocating heat of the ballroom.

She looked up at the pale crescent moon, Bertrand’s words swirling in her mind. A small, fragile spark of hope began to rebuild itself in her chest, fighting against the black poison of Neville's lies.

"I love you, Drake," she whispered into the empty night, fresh, silent tears spilling over her lashes. "I'm so sorry. Please don't destroy what we had for the Crown. It was worth so much more than that..."

A sob broke from her throat, and her hand instinctively flew to her neck, her fingers reaching for the familiar, comforting weight of Drake's ring.

But her fingers grasped empty air.

Her breath hitched in sudden, violent panic. Her hand scrambled frantically against her bare skin, searching, clawing at her collarbone.

Nothing.

The realization hit her like an icy plunge into frozen water. The ring is gone.

In her blind, hysterical fury in the bedroom, she had ripped the silver chain from her neck. She had stood on her balcony and flung it—the only physical piece of Drake she had left, the token of the greatest, most honest summer of her life—into the pitch-black darkness of the gardens below.

A wave of sheer terror washed over her. What have I done?

She had to find it. She couldn't lose it forever. If Drake never came back to her, if she had to live the rest of her life as a puppet princess in a silent cage, she still needed that ring. It was her anchor. It was proof that she had once been loved by the most incredible man she had ever met.

She spun around, her mind racing. She would have to rush back through the crowded ballroom, slip past her father’s guards, run out the front doors, and search the dark, frosty garden beds beneath her balcony with her bare hands. She didn't care how undignified it was. She didn't care if the whole court saw her on her knees in the dirt.

She took a frantic step toward the terrace doors.

But before she could reach them, the heavy glass door creaked open and a tall silhouette stepped out into the moonlight, cutting off her only path of escape.

"Good evening, Your Highness," a smooth, oily voice drawled, dripping with mock-reverence. "You look as lovely as ever."

"Lord Tariq." The name left Emilia’s throat as a frozen puff of air, her voice cracking under the sudden weight of her shock.

She stood frozen as his silhouette stepped fully into the silver pool of moonlight. The handsome, symmetrical features that the Cordonian court so highly praised were twisted into a look of mocking amusement. It was a face she had hoped to never look upon again. The memory of Applewood—of his heavy weight pressing her against the door of her suite, the stinging slap she had delivered to his cheek, and the white-hot rage with which she had threatened to ruin him as she defended Drake—flashed behind her eyes.

But here he stood, his posture dripping with an intolerable, preening arrogance that proved his pride had completely swallowed whatever shame her threats had once caused him.

Tariq took a slow, deliberate step toward her, his polished leather shoes crunching softly against the frost-dusted stone of the terrace. "I saw you leave the ballroom, Princess," he said, his voice dropping to that smooth, oily register that made her skin crawl. "You seemed... distressed."

Emilia instinctively tilted her chin upward, her spine snapping straight as she forced her shoulders back. She could feel the dampness of her tears cooling on her cheeks, and she was acutely aware that her carefully applied makeup was likely ruined, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of showing weakness. She would not let this vulture see her bleed.

"I am perfectly fine, thank you, Lord Tariq," she replied, her voice cold and sharp as a shard of glass. "I merely required some fresh air."

"Oh?" Tariq let out a soft, mocking chuckle, stepping closer until the cloying scent of his heavy clove cologne and expensive brandy invaded her senses, choking out the clean autumn breeze. "Silly me. Here I was, thinking that your sudden flight was because your beloved stable hand had left you all alone."

Emilia’s heart did not just leap; it hammered violently against her ribs, the sudden shock of his words stealing the breath from her lungs. "Excuse me?"

"I had a most illuminating conversation with Neville Vancouer this evening," Tariq sneered, his eyes gleaming with a malicious, vindictive pleasure. "He and I go way back, you know. We first met at one of these very balls, in fact. He was quite forthcoming about how your precious gutter rat is currently shovelling manure at his family’s Château in France."

He stepped closer still, crowding her personal space, his gaze dropping to the bare skin of her neckline with a predatory familiarity. "I warned you at Applewood, Princess. That degenerate Walker is not good enough for the likes of you and me. Tell me, did Daddy finally find out about your dirty little secret? Did the King not like that stable filth daring to touch what isn't his?"

A white-hot spark of rage flared through the ice of Emilia's grief, temporarily drowning out her sorrow. "How dare you speak to me like that," she hissed, her eyes flashing with a fierce, dangerous light. "Drake Walker is a far better man than you will ever be, Tariq. He has more honour in his little finger than your entire family line possesses."

Tariq’s face darkened, his jaw tightening as the insult hit home, his bruised ego from their Applewood encounter rearing its ugly head. He let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "I very much doubt that, Your Highness. A peasant who smells of sweat and dung? You threw away your dignity for a servant and look where it got you. Alone, crying in the dark."

Disgusted and suffocated by his presence, Emilia took a sharp step forward, intending to shoulder past him. "Get out of my way."

But before she could bypass him, the heavy glass door of the terrace creaked open once more.

A second silhouette stepped out, cutting off her angle of escape. Neville Vancouer stood in the doorway, a champagne flute held loosely in his fingers, his eyes gleaming with a quiet, feline satisfaction.

"Everything alright, Princess?" Neville asked, his tone dripping with a mock concern that was entirely hollow.

"No," Emilia said, her voice rising as a cold dread began to settle in her stomach. She was trapped between the two of them, the freezing stone balustrade of the terrace pressing against her lower back. "I’m not feeling well. I need to return to my suite immediately. Let me past, please, Monsieur Vancouer."

Neville didn't move. He took a slow sip of his champagne, his smirk widening as he exchanged a dark, knowing look with Tariq. "Oh? You do look dreadfully pale, Emilia. Perhaps you need an escort? The palace halls can be so terribly dark and lonely at night."

"I do not need your escort," Emilia said, her breathing growing shallow and frantic as she tried to find a gap between them. "I wish to be alone."

Instead of stepping aside, the two men began to close the distance. They moved in unison, their bodies blocking the golden light pouring from the ballroom doors, casting long, suffocating shadows over her. Tariq’s smirk was venomous, fuelled by the memory of her rejection, while Neville’s expression was one of predatory hunger.

"There's no need to be so hostile, Your Highness," Tariq murmured, his voice low and threatening as he stepped closer, forcing her to lean back against the freezing limestone. "We only want to help you. We can be your shoulder to cry on. Your... comfort."

"Indeed," Neville chimed in, his tone smooth and predatory. "You don't need that servant, Emilia. He was a distraction. A temporary amusement. But now that he's gone, you must think of your future. We can show you what a real gentleman can provide."

The physical proximity of the two men was overwhelming. The smell of their cologne, the heat of their breath in the cold air, and the realization that they were actively, physically trapping her made Emilia’s head spin. Her hand instinctively twitched toward her collarbone, a desperate, phantom search for the ring that was no longer there.

Trapped, her back pressing hard against the freezing limestone of the balustrade, Emilia slowly slid her free hand behind her along the rough, frosty stone. Her fingers frantically clawed at the masonry, searching in vain for a loose decorative piece, a heavy stone planter, or anything she could use to defend herself in the dark.

But there was nothing. Only the cold, unforgiving edge of the parapet.

Faced with her own helplessness, a fierce, primal instinct flared to life beneath her terror. She pulled her hands back, tucking them close to her chest and tight into hard, trembling fists. If they tried to touch her, she would fight. She would claw at their faces, scream until her lungs burst, and strike out with every ounce of strength left in her body. She would not go down quietly.

They were practically toe-to-toe with her now, the heat of their bodies suffocatingly close. Tariq reached a hand out toward her shoulder, his eyes gleaming, and Emilia tightened her posture, bracing herself to swing.

"What is going on here?"

A voice cut through the damp terrace air like a razor. It was deep, calm, and carrying a quiet, unmistakable authority that made both men freeze instantly.

Tariq and Neville snapped their heads around, clearly startled that their private, predatory corner had been breached. Standing in the soft golden wash of the ballroom doors was a young man. He was tall and broad-shouldered, clad in an impeccably tailored dark dress coat that seemed to absorb the moonlight.

Tariq responded first, his lips curling into a sneer of aristocratic annoyance as he stepped back slightly from Emilia, though he still blocked her escape. "Nothing you need concern yourself with, my Lord," Tariq drawled, dripping with condescension. "We were simply having a private, friendly conversation with the Princess."

The young lord didn't look at Tariq. His piercing blue eyes bypassed both men entirely, landing squarely on Emilia.

He took in the ruined trails of her makeup, the frantic rise and fall of her chest, and the way she stood trembling in her midnight silk—trembling from far more than just the biting autumn wind. Her eyes were wide, dilated, and glittering with a mixture of raw panic and defiance, like a deer caught in the blinding headlights of an oncoming car.

The stranger’s jaw tightened, a hard, dangerous line settling over his features. He stepped fully into the dim terrace light, his boots crunching softly on the frost.

"From where I am standing," the Lord said, his voice dropping to a low, icy register that sent a shiver down Emilia’s spine, "I am not at all convinced Her Highness is interested in your company. I suggest you leave. Immediately."

Neville let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, stepping forward to flank Tariq. "And who are you to suggest anything? Do you think you can just wander out here and claim her for yourself? I think not. Who are you anyway?"

The young lord didn't offer a name. His expression remained a mask of cool, unyielding stone. "That is of no concern to you. Leave. Now."

"Or you'll do what?" Tariq spat.

Ego and brandy fuelling his aggression, Tariq took a stride forward until he was practically nose-to-nose with the stranger. With a snarl of disgust, Tariq brought his hand up and pushed the lord’s shoulder angrily, trying to shove him back.

The young lord didn't even sway. He simply looked down at the hand on his coat, then up into Tariq's eyes. "Do that again," he murmured, his voice deadly quiet, "and you will find out."

Neville and Tariq exchanged a brief, mocking sneer, entirely misjudging the man before them. They turned fully away from Emilia, setting their sights on this lone interloper. Before Emilia could even scream a warning, the space between the three men vanished.

"How dare you?" Neville sneered, stepping up beside his friend. "Do you have any idea who I—"

Tariq didn't wait. He drew back his arm and threw a wild, heavy punch straight at the stranger's face.

The young lord moved with a fluid, terrifying speed.

With a practiced ease, he brought his forearm up, effortlessly deflecting Tariq’s strike outward. Before Tariq could recover his balance, the Lord pivoted, swinging his leg out in a swift, sweeping kick that caught Tariq cleanly behind the knees.

With a breathless grunt, Tariq’s legs gave out. He crashed heavily onto the stone terrace, his elegant suit scraping against the frost-bitten stone as he groaned in sudden pain.

Neville’s eyes went wide. Panicking, he lunged forward, raising his hands to strike. But the young lord was already moving. He grabbed Neville by the neck of his tailored jacket, utilizing Neville's own momentum to spin him around and slam him hard against the limestone wall of the alcove.

The thud of Neville's chest hitting the stone echoed in the quiet night. Before he could draw a breath, the Lord pinned him there, catching his right arm and wrenching it firmly up behind his back.

"It is entirely clear to me," the Lord hissed, his face inches from Neville’s ear, "that the men in this court lack the basic decency they were bred to possess."

He applied a sharp pressure to the arm lock, forcing Neville to gasp in pain, his aristocratic posture completely breaking.

"Princess Emilia clearly does not want your company," the Lord continued, his voice vibrating with a quiet, lethal fury. "You will leave this terrace now. And if you ever crowd her, speak to her, or so much as look in her direction again... I will make you deeply regret it."

Neville’s face went white, his breath hitching as the pain in his shoulder flared. "Okay! Okay, let go!" he whimpered, his arrogance vanishing in an instant. "You've made your point! Let me go!"

The young lord released his grip with a contemptuous shove. Neville stumbled, clutching his arm, his eyes darting frantically toward the terrace doors.

On the floor, Tariq was already scrambling back to his feet, nursing his bruised ego and looking at the stranger with a mixture of shock and sheer terror. Realizing they were utterly outmatched, both noblemen offered one last, hollow glare before turning on their heels. They scrambled past the stranger, practically running as they threw open the heavy doors and disappeared back into the protective, crowded warmth of the ballroom.

The doors creaked shut behind them, leaving the terrace in a sudden, ringing silence.

Emilia stood frozen against the balustrade, her hands still balled into fists, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps as she stared at her rescuer.

The young lord turned back to her. In the biting night air, his breath was a quick, pale mist rising from his lips, catching the soft gold light spilling from the ballroom. His posture had completely relaxed, his broad shoulders dropping as the violent energy of the fight drained away.

Emilia’s eyes remained wide. She didn't move a muscle, her heart still hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She didn't recognize this man. She had spent her entire life navigating the Cordonian court, and she had thought she knew every face, every title, and every lineage. Yet, he was completely foreign to her.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" he asked, his voice a deep, steady baritone that carried none of the mocking cadence of Neville or Tariq.

"Y... yes," Emilia managed to whisper, her throat tight.

The lord offered a small, reassuring smile. He took a single step toward her, but as he did, Emilia instinctively flinched, her shoulders tensing as she braced for another threat.

He stopped instantly. Sensing her lingering panic, he raised his hands in a gentle, placating gesture, showing her his open palms to prove he meant no harm. "It’s alright, Princess Emilia. I’m not going to hurt you."

To prove his words, he deliberately walked away from her, crossing the stone terrace to lean his weight comfortably against the frosty balustrade several feet away. He gave her space—physical, unpressured space that let her breathe.

Emilia let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension slowly draining from her limbs. Her fingers uncurled, her trembling hands dropping back to her sides. "Thank you. Lord...?"

"Rhys. Liam Rhys," he said, his smile widening slightly in the moonlight.

"Thank you, Lord Rhys."

"Please, just Liam is fine," he said softly, looking over at her.

Emilia looked at him, her gaze lingering on his features. He was undeniably handsome—tall, broad-shouldered, with neat blonde hair that gleamed like spun gold under the crescent moon, and eyes of a striking, icy blue. But what struck her most wasn't his appearance; it was his demeanour. He wasn't polished to the extreme, hollow perfection of the other noblemen. He stood with a casual, easy grace, and his eyes held a genuine, clear warmth.

"Just Liam?" Emilia let out a small, breathless laugh, her lips curving for the first time in hours. "Forgive me, but it is rather unusual for anyone from the nobility to forgo their title. Most lords here carry theirs like a shield."

Liam chuckled, a warm, rich sound that seemed to banish the lingering chill of the terrace. "I know. But personally, I’ve always felt that a title is something that should be earned, not just inherited. And besides... Liam suits me much better."

Emilia felt the last of her defences crumble. "Well, thank you, Liam."

"You are very welcome, Your Highness," he replied, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Please, call me Emilia," she corrected gently, warming to his easy manner.

"You're welcome, Emilia," he amended, his voice soft. "I'm just glad I came out for some fresh air when I did. Are you absolutely sure you’re okay? Those two..."

"I am fine. Thanks to you," she said, taking a cautious step closer to him, though she still kept a respectful distance. "Really. If you hadn't stepped out when you did..."

"It was nothing," Liam dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Decency demands that much, at least. Though I have to say, your fists were looking rather formidable. I think you might have given them a run for their money even without me."

Emilia laughed, a genuine, light sound that made the heavy weight in her chest feel a fraction lighter. "Me too. I was fully prepared to swing." She paused, her curiosity getting the better of her. "I’m sorry, but I don't believe we’ve ever met. And I am fairly certain I know everyone in the Cordonian court, and most of the foreign ones, too."

Liam let out a self-deprecating laugh, shifting his weight against the stone. "Yeah. I’ve been... away."

"Away?"

"I’ve been in Italy for the past few years," he explained, looking out over the dark, frosty gardens. "Studying, mostly. Working a bit, too."

"Oh?"

"I wanted to do something for myself," Liam said, his voice turning reflective. "To learn about the world outside of this sheltered, gilded life we’re expected to live. Sorry, I don't mean to sound ungrateful for our privilege..."

"Not at all," Emilia cut in, her voice hushed and sincere. "I find myself wishing I could do the exact same thing. Every single day."

Liam’s blue eyes locked onto hers, filled with a deep, silent understanding. "I returned only recently. My mother requested—or rather, strongly insisted—that I come back for the social season, now that my studies are officially over, and I’ve learned a bit more about politics and business outside of Cordonia."

"And how are you finding being back?" Emilia asked, leaning her own lower back against the balustrade, mirroring his relaxed posture.

Liam huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head. "It is exactly as I expected."

"In what way?"

"Pretentious," he said flatly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Exhausting. That’s why I needed to slip out here for a breather. I just needed a little bit of freedom for a moment, you know?"

"Oh, I know. Believe me, I know," Emilia sighed, her gaze drifting down to her satin shoes. "That is exactly why I was out here when Tariq and Neville..."

"Yeah. They shouldn’t bother you again," Liam said, his tone turning momentarily firm, a shadow of the fierce protector crossing his features. "But if they do, you let me know. Immediately."

"I will," Emilia promised, touched by the protective instinct. "So... where did you learn to fight like that? That leg sweep was rather impressive."

"I took some self-defence classes while I was in Rome," Liam explained, a boyish grin gracing his lips. "The statesman I worked with, Signor Francesco, was a firm believer that one should always be able to protect oneself, regardless of status. So, I took some classes. To be honest, that is the very first time I’ve actually had to use any of it. I’m just glad my muscle memory kicked in."

"Me too," Emilia laughed softly.

Liam looked at her in the pale moonlight, his gaze softening. Despite the faint, ruined trails of makeup on her cheeks and the wind-blown strands of her perfect curls, she was beautiful. More beautiful than his mother had described, and far more captivating than the pristine, empty-headed debutantes currently spinning on the dance floor inside.

"So," Liam said gently, his voice dropping to a quieter register. "What was it you were trying to escape tonight, Emilia? Forgive me for asking, but you look like you’ve been through a lot more than just those two idiots." He gestured vaguely behind him toward the ballroom doors.

Emilia’s smile faltered, the cold reality of her heartache rushing back to fill the silence. "Oh. Well... it’s..."

Seeing her face fall, Liam immediately held up a hand. "I apologize. It is entirely none of my business. Please, don't feel pressured to explain."

"No, it's fine," Emilia said, swallowing the lump in her throat. She looked out over the dark gardens, her voice barely louder than the autumn wind. "I... I’ve been going through some very difficult things recently. It’s been hard for me the last few months, and I just... I needed to get out of that ballroom. I felt like I couldn't breathe in there."

"I understand," Liam said simply. There was no pity in his voice, no cloying sympathy, just a quiet, validating acceptance of her pain.

"I was actually just about to go back inside when Tariq and Neville showed up," Emilia continued, her fingers tightening around the cold stone of the balustrade. "I lost something earlier. A… a necklace of sorts... a very important necklace. I dropped it from my balcony before the ball started, and I was going to go down into the gardens to try and find it."

Liam looked out over the pitch-black lawns, the frosty hedges illuminated only by the faint silver of the crescent moon. "I'm not sure you'll have much luck in this light, Emilia. It’s freezing, and the shadows are incredibly long."

"No, perhaps not," she admitted, a heavy sadness settling over her features as she thought of Drake's ring lying lost in the cold dirt.

"Well," Liam said, turning his body fully toward her. "If you'd like, I could help you search for it tomorrow. There is a much better chance of finding something small in the daylight, and two sets of eyes are always better than one."

Emilia blinked in surprise. "Oh, I couldn't possibly ask you to do that. You hardly know me."

"You didn't ask. I offered," Liam pointed out, his blue eyes sparkling. "I would be happy to help you. Truly."

Emilia looked at his kind, open face, and felt a tiny, fragile blossom of comfort. Lord Liam Rhys was kind, and she desperately needed a friend right now. She loved Bertrand, but he was returning to Ramsford tomorrow. Olivia, Hana, and Rose loved her, but lately, they had a painful tendency to look at her with fragile pity, as if she were made of glass and might shatter at any moment.

Liam knew nothing of her broken heart. He didn't know about Drake, or his banishment, or her grief. He was just a kind stranger who offered help without expectation. It would be incredibly nice to have a friend who didn't look at her like she was broken.

"Okay," Emilia smiled, a genuine, soft expression that reached her eyes. "I would really appreciate the help. As long as you're sure you don't mind."

"Not at all," Liam smiled back, stepping closer and offering his elbow. "Now, shall we head back inside? It is getting rather freezing out here, and they will be starting those incredibly long, boring homecoming speeches soon. Personally, I would be deeply grateful to stand next to someone who hates them just as much as I do."

Emilia let out a bright laugh, the sound clear and lovely against the quiet night. She wiped her eyes quickly, trying to rescue what remained of her makeup, then reached out, her fingers resting lightly on the fine, dark wool of his sleeve. The warmth of his arm was a comforting, grounding contrast to the freezing limestone.

"That sounds wonderful," she said.

Together, they turned toward the heavy glass doors, ready to face the court side-by-side.

Chapter 34 - Kiara

Chapter 29 : Take Me Home

Kate gazed out of the car window as they drove. The brick buildings, trees, sidewalk, and small businesses were all familiar fixtures in the Woodside area of Queens. Just like any urban neighbourhood in America it was home. It wasn't Drake's fantasy kingdom of Cordonia. Even though she had spent a few months living the princess life there, it hadn't felt real. Here in America she had a past, an existence, a life she had scratched out on her own. She paid taxes, had an apartment and a job. The job hadn't paid much but it kept her going.

A chance encounter in the bar with Drake and his friends, and an impulsive leap to chase adventure had ended her job and cast her into the unknown. Drake had warned her that adapting to his world wouldn't be easy, but she had survived it with his help. But then circumstances beyond her control had sent her back to America, and although her current situation wasn't ideal there were still pieces of herself left to rebuild a life if she wanted.

Drake sat barely a foot away, and represented a new piece to her love life that had been missing. Mark's manipulation and betrayal had left her afraid to trust anyone past a first date. She'd sworn off sex to avoid the potential physical pain and accepted seeing the inevitable disappointment on the face of her date when she cut the night short and went home alone.    

Work, sleep, and the friendship of Beth became all that she wanted to know. This routine had given her safety, and stability. Picking up extra shifts at work, while enduring her horrible boss, had paid her bills and her student loans. Because she rarely went out, and shared rent with Beth, Kate had been able to put some savings aside. During her time in Cordonia she had been spared paying for rent or food, but her mobile phone bill still had to be paid. She'd avoided making phone calls as much as possible to reduce roaming charges, but other unexpected expenses had eaten into her savings. Fitting into life amongst the Lords and Ladies meant dressing the part. The Beaumonts may have sponsored her in name and opportunity but they couldn't afford to dress her. As convenient as the Palace boutique was, the clothing wasn't free. The saddest part was that when she got sent back to New York she hadn't been allowed to take any of the new clothes with her. And she'd seen none of the money refunded back to her bank account. When the security guards had dumped her at the airport she had even been forced to pay for her ticket home.

Since returning to New York she'd been shopping with Beth, bought books, and paid for takeout. She was scared to look at what was left of her bank account. Could she even afford to go back to Cordonia with Drake? Weren't there immigration laws and residence visas, or proof of citizenship regulations? Could the scandal that sent her away be considered treason against the crown? If Nicholas doesn't step in, could she be arrested? I can't do this. I can't go back.

As fun as this weekend with Drake had been, now she felt trapped into accepting a future that wasn't hers. The inside of the car suddenly felt hot and airless, sweat broke out on her skin. She couldn't breathe.

Drake heard rapid, raspy breathing coming from his left and he looked up from his phone. Kate was staring at him, her eyes wide and full of panic. She looked like she was about to be sick.

"Kate? Are you ok?"

She shook her head, and turned toward the door. Her hands clawed and wrenched at the door handle and fumbled for the window button.

"Murray, pull over!" Drake shouted.

Murray looked up at the rearview mirror, and then quickly over his shoulder. "What? I can't. What's going on?"

"Kate's freaking out, and we need to stop. I don't think you want any accidental bodily fluids happening back here."

"We're almost there," Murray jabbed at the window lock to release it, "Here, open a window to get her some fresh air."

Kate's window buzzed all the way down and a rush of cool air flooded the car. She gulped in deep breaths and unbuckled her seatbelt.

To Drake it looked like she was about to climb out so he reached over and grabbed her arm. "Hey, hey..Kate, you're going to be ok. What the fuck?"

Murray pulled over to the curb in front of her apartment building. "We're here. Now please calm down. Was my driving really that bad?"

When Kate opened her door and bolted out into the street,  Drake pulled his door open and chased after her.  With his arms spread open he attempted to stop her from running past him. Despite her heels she managed to avoid him, brushing past his reaching fingers.

"Kate, stop!"

At the door of her building she whimpered and searched her purse for her key. Before she could get it out, Drake's arms enveloped her from behind and he held her against his chest. "Stop running away, damnit. Talk to me, and tell me what's wrong."

His hold was firm, and Kate realized that struggling would make the situation look worse. Drake wasn't trying to hurt her, and his voice held concern instead of anger. As the tension in her body released, his hold softened and she allowed him to take her by the hand instead.

Murray was pulling their bags out of the back of the car as he watched Drake lead her back.

"Look, you two. If this is some kind of abduction situation I want no part of it. I've already seen you carry her to the car once. Is she really your girl, or are you forcing her to be with you against her will?"

Drake opened his mouth to speak, but Murray cut him off. "No, not you. I want to hear it from her. Are you okay, Miss? Is this guy trying to take you somewhere?"

Kate almost laughed at the irony of his question, because Drake was trying to take her out of the country. Drake now had his arm wrapped around her back, holding her against him. But there wasn't anything forceful about it. Placing her hand over his, she felt Drake relax a little. She lifted her eyes up from the ground and answered Murray with as much calm as she could manage.

"I'm okay, Murray.  He's my bodyguard, and it's his job to babysit me and keep me safe. He and I just need to talk about something in private. I'm sorry for how chaotic this job has been for you."

Murray didn't look convinced, but he accepted Drake's hand when it was offered to shake.

"Thanks Murray, I appreciate your patience. And your smooth driving."

The driver nodded and then with another glance back at them he got into the car and left.

"Now hopefully Murray doesn't call the cops on us," Drake mumbled as he bent down to pick up his bags from the sidewalk.

Kate picked up her own suitcase, "I'm sorry for flipping out back there. I just panicked all of a sudden."

He followed her back to the front door, "Panicked about what?"

She sat down her bag and looked for her key in her purse, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that I'm upending my life all over again to move to another country with a guy I barely know."

Drake shrugged and then reached up to hold the door for her after she unlocked and opened it.  "Well, you've known me for several months and you were brave enough to spend a weekend with me in a hotel. So saying you barely know me is kind of a stretch. Plus you seemed to enjoy Cordonia while you were there."

Kate sighed as she put down her suitcase and turned around to face him. "It was a wonderful sort of vacation, but living there full time scares me a little."

Drake sat down his bags and then stepped over to place his hands gently on her shoulders, "It's not like you're going to be there all by yourself. I'll be there to look after you and help you adapt. Plus Hana, Max and Nicholas love you almost as much as I do."

Smoothing her hands down the front of his jacket, she undid the button and then reached in to hug him around his waist.   Drake hugged her around the shoulders as she pressed her cheek against his chest.

"That takes care of my emotional state, and I appreciate not being alone. But I can't expect you to support me financially.  As a non-citizen am I even allowed to live and work in Cordonia or Europe for that matter? I don't even have a passport."

"Don't forget that you have friends in high places. Especially the King. You can't get any higher than that in Cordonia. Plus you're going to be travelling on his personal jet, which as a private flight is not subject to customs and immigration rules. As a personal guest of the King, you'll always have somewhere to stay. You said that you want to be a writer, and you can do that anywhere. Who knows what employment opportunities that may open up for you? The logistics and legalities of paperwork can be worked out later." 

He paused for a moment to appreciate how comfortable and warm their embrace was. Kate's doubts and fears were justified, and the fact that she didn't want to become a burden upon him financially made him love her even more. She was clearly torn between letting him go, returning to a New York life without him, and trusting herself to let go of her fear of the future and embracing a new life in Cordonia. He knew how he felt, and his heart ached at the idea that she might decide not to go back with him.  But he also knew that he couldn't force her.

"Kate, " He said, his voice low. "I know that Nicholas sent me here to bring you back to him. And for my own selfish reasons I jumped at the chance to see you again. The promise of something more, along with the undeniable chemistry we seem to have, makes me believe we really could be good for each other. But as much as I love you, I can't drag you back if it's not what you want."

"Oh, Drake," she sighed, closing her eyes. "I love you, too. And I accept that we both had emotional baggage that we needed to sort through and deal with. You've already shown me that you're a better man than Mark could ever be, and that's helped me move beyond what he did.  I'm sorry that my insecurity forced you to dredge up Olivia."

Kissing her on the top of the head he gently rubbed her back, "Don't be sorry, I'm over her bullshit and she can't hurt me anymore. I'm sorry for dragging up Mark all over again. I was looking for validation for my jealous hate for the guy." 

"How could you be jealous of Mark?"

"Well when you talked about him at the ice cream shoppe, I got the impression that you two had something hot going on. Oh and for the record I was jealous of Nicholas too. Women from all over wanted to be with him. But then he said something about the social season that changed my mind about the whole thing." 

Kate looked up, "What did he say?"

"That it was just some sick way to spend time with as many women as possible, and make them compete for his attention. Even though he was always going to choose Madeleine, because it was all planned out for him in advance. She only wanted the crown, and he was looking for a girlfriend on the side to share his bed. Apparently this Cordonian Arrangement is a family tradition in case the Queen couldn't give the King an heir then he would have a backup plan. "

"I remember seeing this in his letter, but I assumed this was something put together on Coronation Night. So he was planning on sleeping with all the suitors at some point, to see which one of us was the most compatible as a future side piece."

Drake nodded, "I think that's the way it was supposed to happen, but Nick didn't want to go through with it. He didn't feel comfortable just using all you women for sex, and he wanted a true romantic marriage instead of a political one. When it was clear that you were his favourite, and he stopped seeing the other suitors, Constantine stepped in to eliminate you in order to keep the family tradition alive. Clearly if your reputation was tarnished, you'd be ineligible as his mistress too."

"Before the tabloid pictures went viral, I received an anonymous letter warning me to leave. Olivia got one too, and she accused me of being behind it.  Constantine surely wouldn't have bothered with the letter if he had already planned on hiring the reporter to take my picture with Tariq."

Drake shrugged, "Maybe Regina did it on Madeleine's behalf to narrow down Nick's choices. That would have left Kiara, Penelope and Hana as options. Were they threatened too?"

"Hana received a letter from her parents saying that they wanted her to come home right after the Coronation. She seemed pretty upset about it.  Given how critical her parents have been, it seemed legitimate."

Drake smirked down at her as he cupped her cheek in his hand, "Still want to come live under the same roof as Constantine the Terrible? Imagine having that conniving bastard as your father-in-law. Maybe having you sent away to New York was a good idea after all. He's never had many kind words for me, either.  But the joke's on him because I'm bringing you back."

"Not funny, Drake. Do we have to live at the Palace? My face is still all over social media linked to the scandal with Tariq.  If the reporters know I'm back in the Capital again they're going to hound me like crazy."

Kate looked so scared, and he realized he'd gone too far. "I'm sorry. Joking about you was a dick thing for me to do. Yeah, we'll have to stay at the Palace for a little while. But when the train station investigation is over, we can get away and move north. I've been wanting to spend some time out by the lake. There's a cabin there that belonged to my Mom and Dad, and I suppose it's all mine now."

"Ooh, I like that idea. We can have a little place of our own."

"It would be nice to finally get out from under the royal thumb. There's a small town nearby where we can get the things we need. The cabin needs some fixing up, though. It was never meant for year-round living. When we'd stay there when I was a kid it was only for a weekend. So, Kate. Does this mean you're coming home with me?"

Hugging him tighter she nodded, "Yes. I'll do it."

Leaning in he gave her a firm kiss and then with a wide smile he pulled back, "Oh thank goodness. You had me worried there for a minute.  And if you're still interested in becoming a citizen of Cordonia, there are ways to make it happen easier."

Kate looked up at him, "Easier, how?"

Studying her face, he wasn't sure how to say it. It was too soon to officially ask her that question, despite how he felt. But since he'd stupidly suggested an easy route to citizenship, he had to answer her with something. "Family ties, perhaps?  Since the Beaumonts sponsored you, and gave you honorary status they could manipulate the paperwork to make it look like you're actually related somehow. Like a distant cousin. You do look like a Beaumont. Maxwell could easily pass as your brother."

She blinked, her brows knitting into a frown. "I suppose. But I was waiting for you to suggest something more official and legal, like marriage."

Drake looked away and then back again, "I was afraid to say it. As if you'd think I was throwing a half-assed proposal at you."

Kate looked down at her shoes, feeling her cheeks flush, "When I said 'marriage' ..I..I was just acknowledging that it's a way to become family. I wasn't proposing to you either."

Kissing her on the forehead he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and then stepped back, going over to pick up his bags again. "I guess that's that then... shall we go upstairs?"

With a nod she picked up her suitcase too. "Um, yeah."

Bowing slightly he smirked and gestured toward the stairs, "After you, M'lady."

With a nervous smile of her own she led the way, "I know it's not the Ritz or a Royal Palace. But it's humble, honest and clean. Please excuse the second hand furnishings, and basic layout."

"It's not like I haven't been here before, Kate. I still appreciate this being your home. I came from humble beginnings myself, remember? So there's no reason to apologize for anything."

She sighed as they reached the second floor, "Yes, I know. But you've never slept over before."

Kate stopped outside her door and knocked. Beth answered with a smile.

"Oh hey, you two. I've ordered pizza, come on in."  She held the door open for them.

Drake nodded to Beth as he came in the door, and then took his bags down to Kate's bedroom.  "I'm going to change into something more comfortable and be right back."

Beth pulled Kate aside into the kitchen, whispering, "Hello, Mr. Sexy in a Suit. Oh my God."

Kate smiled at her reaction, "Yes, I know. He doesn't like dressing formal, but he should look in a mirror every once and a while. The guy is literally sex in a suit."

Beth looked Kate up and down, taking in her smudged makeup and less than tidy hair. "Speaking of sex.  Did something happen between the hotel and here?"

Kate bent over to take off her shoes, and then picked up her suitcase. As she straightened back up she smirked. "Well, when you spend a long car ride next to Sex in a Suit something is bound to happen."

Beth giggled as Kate winked at her and then took her suitcase down the hall to the bathroom.

..

Down in the bedroom, Drake sat his suitcase down on the floor, and flopped his garment bag down on the bed. With a sigh he sat down and then bent over to take off his shoes.  The toe and leather of one shoe was badly scuffed and the other shoe had lost a lot of its shine. Turning them over, the soles were in rough shape too. They had been an old pair of his father's shoes, and since he'd never felt the need to buy dress shoes of his own, Drake had kept them. He'd also inherited one of his Dad's grey suits. It wasn't a perfect fit, and neither were the shoes, but he liked having something of Jackson's in his closet. Up until a few days ago, they had been the best formal clothes that he'd had. 

The suits he had borrowed for his trip to New York would need to be returned to the boutique so they could be dry cleaned and put away for someone else. He was considering keeping the shirts though, since Hana had suggested they complimented the colour of his eyes.  He smirked as he remembered how Kate had looked at him when he was all dressed up.  The next formal event held at the Palace meant she would probably insist that he danced with her.  Oh God, I'll have to learn that stupid Cordonian Waltz they always do.

He'd always found formal dances with their precise form and steps intimidating. They required a partner and he was terrified of stomping all over her feet. Even worse, if they tried to keep up with the other couples and failed, they'd be laughed at.  Dancing freestyle suited him best, because there were no rules. And in the dark anonymity of a club he could dance with Kate the way he wanted.

But for now he was supposed to be changing into something more casual. Which meant that the suit he was wearing had to go. Standing up, he took his phone and wallet out of the inside pocket of the jacket and then took it off and laid it on the bed. Setting his items aside he took off his pants next, pulling the belt out through the loops. He wasn't sure yet what he was going to wear when he went out with Kate and her friends. Going out clubbing wasn't something he did often and usually he went alone. Would Kate have an opinion about what he should wear?

Out of the corner of his eye he caught his reflection in the mirror on the wall.  Standing in his socks and underwear he looked out of place in the environment of Kate's bedroom. She could walk in at any second. Grabbing his suitcase he opened it up on the bed and found the sweat pants and t-shirt that he'd bought earlier that day. These would do for now. As he stepped into his pants he heard the doorknob turn.

"Oh hey there sexy, if you want to eat pizza shirtless I don't mind at all."

Pulling up his pants he turned around. "Well it would stop me from getting sauce or cheese stains on my clothes."

Kate was dressed in similar fashion, with her black lacy dress draped over her arm, and her hair swept up in a high ponytail. In her other hand she held her suitcase.  As he pulled his shirt down over his head, she pouted. "Aww, I was looking forward to seeing you pick pepperoni out of your chest hair."

Shaking his head he reached for her suitcase and set it next to his. "Ok, now you're just being gross. I'm not that sloppy as an eater."

"I still remember our pizza last night and it got pretty messy."

He pulled Kate into his arms and grinned down at her, "Yes, it also included a lap dance and you throwing up. So I agree it was definitely something."

"No truth or dare drinking games this time, promise." She giggled, "But another lap dance would be great. That was pretty hot."

"I don't know about a lap dance, but if you're good maybe I'll agree to dance with you at the club."

Delicious memories of his sexy strip tease made her senses tingle. "Mmm, and you better not chicken out either. You have moves Mr. Walker, and I want to see them." 

Leaning in for a kiss, he whispered, "I prefer to save my best moves for when we're alone."

Reaching up behind his neck, she pressed up against him as his hold on her tightened. As she softened her mouth and welcomed his tongue, his hands slid up under the hem of her sweater. A moan spilled from her throat as the heat of his touch spread up her spine. When he didn't encounter a bra, he growled in approval and slid his hand around her ribs and cupped her breast in his palm. With a gasp she broke off the kiss, and grabbed for his wrist.

"Stop, a kiss is enough for now. Your hands can explore later."

With a disappointed huff he stepped back, "Ok, fine.  But give me a moment. I can't go out there in my current state."

With a glance down she grinned, "Oh right."

A knock on the bedroom door made them both jump.

"Come on out, you guys. The pizza's here," Beth said with a laugh. "Put your clothes back on."

Kate covered her flaming cheeks with her hands and peeked through her fingers at Drake. "Busted, again."

"Thanks, Beth," Drake answered, "We'll be right out."

..

Setting the two pizza boxes on the counter, Beth made room so that they could be opened side by side.

"Mmm, these smell delicious. I wonder what Drake likes on his pizza. Hopefully these are ok."

Daniel opened up the cupboard and got down a stack of four plates. "Have you seen the way the guy is built? What if he doesn't even eat pizza. I don't even know where he's from. That accent of his is definitely European, but it's not easy to nail down. Thank goodness he speaks excellent English."

Shooting him a disapproving look, Beth dropped to a whisper, "Hush, there's nothing wrong with the way he talks. And he's from Cordonia. Google it. From what I saw on Google maps it's an island in the Mediterranean off the coast of Italy. So he's definitely had pizza."

"Whatever, I don't have to like him. I remember what you told me about that Mark guy that Kate dated before. I hope Drake isn't another sleazy douchebag like that."

"The way Kate talked about him before he got here, she really likes him. So please try to be nice." Beth pleaded, "I'm already feeling sad because she's leaving tomorrow. Don't make me worry about her in advance. It'll spoil the rest of my last night with her."

Pulling Beth into a hug, Daniel kissed her on the cheek and dropped his voice to a whisper, "I'm sorry.  I'm going to miss her too, you know.  I promise to behave."

Kissing him back she replied, "Good, now why don't you grab a beer for you and your new buddy Drake. Maybe he's thirsty."

With a sigh he rolled his eyes and then let her go, "He's not my buddy, not yet."

..

Drake slipped his hand into Kate's, giving it a gentle squeeze, "C'mon, let's go make an appearance. I smell pizza and it's making me hungry."

Cracking a smile she bumped her shoulder against his arm as they went down the hallway, "Aww, I love it when you hold my hand. It's so sweet."

Drake grunted in agreement, giving her hand another squeeze, "Promise you won't run away this time?"

She laughed, "No promises."

"Great."

Daniel looked up as he closed the fridge, the necks of two bottles of beer in his hand, "Jesus, they're already dressing alike. Beth, look at 'em."

Beth licked her finger as she placed a slice of pizza on her plate, "I think it's cute. Shut up, Dan."

Drake smirked and let go of Kate's hand and then accepted the bottle of beer that Daniel offerered him, "Yeah, yeah. Thanks, a lot."

Opening up the fridge, Kate pulled a can of Diet Coke from the shelf. After closing the door she leaned against the counter and watched Drake and Dan discuss pizza while they pulled slices out of the boxes and filled their plates.

"I suppose New York pizza is a lot different than what you would usually see at home, " Dan mused, a hint of challenge in his tone.

Drake shrugged, "Mediterranean style pizza is topped differently and the crust tastes fresher. On New York pizza it's like they're trying to cover their huge pies with as much stuff as possible to hide their crappy crust. I'm not saying that gooey melted cheese and spicy pepperoni aren't delicious, because they are, but it all just slides off when you pick up a slice."

Beth and Kate exchanged a glance, Uh oh..

Daniel shook his head and then took his plate and beer to the living room, muttering, "nope...nope, nope.. he's no buddy of mine if he's gonna dis New York pizza."

Drake leaned against the counter, twisting the cap off his beer and throwing it into the sink. "What? It's the truth."

Sitting down at the table with her plate of pizza, Kate answered, "Be careful with that first bite, Hon. Remember what happened last night."

He smirked as he picked up his plate, and then walked past her to follow Daniel into the living room, "Yeah, yeah...thanks Mom. I remember."

Grabbing a Diet Coke from the fridge, Beth joined Kate at the table. "What was that all about?"

Kate leaned in and told Beth about her and Drake's pizza and truth or dare. Including how it ended.

Beth covered her mouth, trying not to spit out her mouthful of soda. She swallowed, "No, way.  You've gotta show me that video."

With a giggle, Kate picked up her pizza slice, "It was epic, you're gonna love it."

...

Daniel glanced up as Drake walked into the room. As Daniel flicked through the tv channels, Drake sat down in the arm chair and placed his plate on the coffee table. When he sat back, taking his beer with him, he turned toward the television, "So what are we watching?"

"Uh, Beth and I were watching a movie, but it's over now. How's the beer? I'm sure you have an opinion on that too."

Drake frowned and then took a sip of his beer and swallowed, "It's fine, nice and cold. Just the way I like it." He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, tilting the neck of the bottle toward Daniel as he spoke. "Do you have a problem with me, Dan? Am I not American enough for you? Because if you're so hung up on my strange European accent...I can switch it off, if you like."

Daniel halted his channel surfing when Drake slipped into a smooth Texas drawl, "What the fuck, man. How did you do that?"

Sitting back in his chair, Drake took another sip of his beer, "My Mom's from Texas, and she dragged me there for college. Although I didn't have much problem dressin' and lookin' the part of a Texas boy, I had to make an effort to sound like one. We have a small cattle ranch outside of Navasota."

Daniel didn't know where that was, for all he knew it could be a place as fake as Drake's accent, "So where'd you go to school?"

"Texas A&M, like my Mom. I studied Kinesiology with an aim for a Bachelor in Sport Science."

With the way that Drake filled out his clothes, Dan had no doubt the guy was good at some kind of sport. "So you and Kate went to the Yankees game yesterday. I'm not going to ask which side you were on."

Drake sat down his beer and picked up his plate of pizza, "The winning side. Although we did have seats behind the Yankee dugout."

"Well at least there's that..., " Dan mumbled as he tuned into ESPN.  A pregame show for an upcoming Phillies vs Mets game was on. "So you're okay watching a Mets game then?"

Drake took a bite of his pizza, appreciating that it wasn't molten lava like the night before. He chewed and swallowed before answering, "That's fine with me. I like baseball."

"Okay then Texas Boy, are you a Rangers or an Astros fan?"

"Rangers, but my Mom hates me for it. Navasota is closer to Houston." Drake replied, his Texas accent slipping away. "But in my defense I grew up in Cordonia, not Texas. And my favourite colour is blue."

Daniel shrugged, "I guess I can't blame you for that. So if your Mom is from Texas, what about your Dad? Were you an army brat that happened to be born in Europe?"

Drake shook his head, "Dad was from the northern part of Cordonia."

Finishing his beer, Daniel sat the empty bottle on the coffee table. "Was? As in... oh, sorry to hear that, Drake.."

The muscle in Drake's jaw twitched as he nodded and then turned his attention back to the television. "Thanks, it happened a long time ago. So.."

The two men were quiet as their unspoken words filled the space between them.  They ate their pizza instead while the television filled the air with talk of baseball players and statistics. The sound of Beth and Kate's conversation in the kitchen filtered in from behind Drake and he felt the back of his neck burn. They were talking about him.

Beth picked toppings out of the melted cheese on her pizza slice and ate them. "So this thing between you and Drake took off in a hurry."

Kate sipped at her Diet Coke, "And to think I didn't even know his last name until a few days ago."

"Girl, what?" Beth glanced past Kate toward the living room. "Maybe moving back across the ocean with the guy is a little hasty then."

"We've been around each other for months, and there was always some kind of attraction simmering beneath the surface. I'd flirt, and he'd hide behind his duty to Nicholas. We'd steal moments alone and talk, and soon a flimsy thread of friendship began. The more time we spent together, meant that long looks and touching were next. Damn, Beth. It was like fireworks going off with our first kiss."

"But Nicholas, though. I Googled the guy yesterday. He's all kinds of Prince Charming, and now he's the King. What's not to love about being with the golden boy?" Beth replied.  

Kate felt warm all over, knowing that Drake was probably listening to every word. "All those months ago, Nicholas showed up at the bar with his friends. And being the sucker for adventure that I am, his charm made me take a chance and follow him home. But when I boarded the jet with Maxwell, the Prince wasn't there, but Drake was."

"And who's Maxwell?"

"Drake's other best friend." Kate said.

From the next room Drake interrupted, "No, he's not!"

Kate smirked and rolled her eyes, "He's in denial. Maxwell is such a sweetheart. You'll get to meet him tomorrow."

"But anyway, I'm pretty sure Drake was hungover. Because nobody could be that grumpy and be traveling on a private jet."

"A private jet with you and Maxwell. How could I not be grumpy? And for the record, I was only slightly hungover." Drake said, as he walked into the kitchen with his plate and empty bottle.

Kate watched him place his plate on the counter, and then turn around and lean against it with his arms folded. "Uh huh, and who was serving the whiskey that night?"

He smirked and looked away, "I'm glad Nick was paying. 'Cuz, yeah. We got pretty loaded."

"But leave it to me to pass up on the golden boy, and fall in love with this brooding and handsome best friend instead. And now he's back all by himself, making all these sweet romantic gestures and stuff. He gave me flowers, Beth....Did the whole 'You look cold, here take my jacket thing' .. swept me off my feet..literally. "

Beth rolled her eyes, "Oh, stop. It sounds like some sappy movie, and I kinda hate it. But I can't help but feel happy for you too. You've been in some kind of limbo since we finished college. Working at that stupid bar was holding you back. You could've been at the book store with me."

"I tried, remember? They weren't hiring at the time. Besides if I was working at the bookstore a few months ago, I'd still be in that limbo. And lonely as hell."

Beth shrugged, "You don't know that. Maybe you would've written the next bestseller by now."

"Uh huh, and as Drake mentioned to me earlier, I can write anywhere. And why be a sad lonely girl in New York, when I can be a happy woman living in a royal palace in Europe with him?"

Daniel came into the kitchen, "Speaking of New York, some of us still have to live here. And work at stupid bars. Tonight aren't we supposed to be going out to a bar where we can be served booze instead?"

Getting up from the table, Kate walked over to Drake. "And don't forget it's Karaoke night."

He groaned and pulled her into his arms for a kiss, "Stop reminding me."

She shook her head, "And you owe me two songs, mister."

"Only because you tricked me into it." He protested.

Beth loaded their dirty plates into the dishwasher, while Daniel gathered up the leftover pizza and put it all together in one box and put it away in the fridge.

Liam and Drake closely followed as the guards led Bastien into the depths of the Portavirian estate. The halls remained eerily quiet as the nobility slept; not a soul to be found other than those involved with Penelope’s homicide investigation. Neither male spoke a word, but both reeled in this blindsiding revelation.

The betrayal Liam felt was like no other. Bastien was like a father to him, always around when he needed someone, but now he wondered if he ever knew him. Bastien saw him at his lowest and protected him at all costs, but somewhere along the way he changed; he couldn’t determine when that shift happened or if his guard was that good of a deceiver from the start, and felt like a fool for not seeing his insubordination sooner. It didn’t matter what he said, nor how much he pleaded; Liam already knew he was guilty, but didn’t know the extent of his involvement.

So many unanswered questions ran rampant through his mind, but ultimately the one he cared about was, where is Riley? The scandal was no longer relevant; all that mattered was finding her and ensuring she was safe. Justice would be served to all who deserved it later but right now, she was the top priority. That wasn’t a new revelation, but the urgency suddenly skyrocketed.

Liam did his best to stay afloat, but couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. If Riley was still in the country, what did that mean? Was she being held hostage somewhere? Would a ransom note appear at some point? Is she even alive? The continuous spiral intensified and formed a vortex of frustration and confusion, enveloping him from the inside out. He wanted to scream and cry to the heavens, anything to relieve some of the never-ending tension slowly constricting his muscles. Every second that passed without knowing she was safe, he grew weaker, feeling control slip right through his fingertips. The never-ending vat of unanswered questions took their physical and mental toll on Liam as a monarch and man alike.

However, every ounce of strength that remained pushed him forward. The adrenaline coursing through his veins mindlessly carried him, as he and Drake walked in deafening silence.

They continued until they entered a dark room with a table and two chairs. The guards sat Bastien down on one side and secured shackles in place over his wrists, much to his displeasure. Liam took the seat that mirrored his, shooing the bystanders out as he did. Drake lingered close by, reeling in his feelings of hurt, betrayal, and anger. Bastien quieted, but his entire body went rigid after his former subordinates exited the room. Liam placed his hands on the table and stared at them for a long while, trying to slow the wild rush inside his mind.

He finally raised his head and spoke to Bastien in the flattest, calmest tone he could muster. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“I don’t, sir.”

“First, let’s talk about Penelope. You and I both know she did not take her own life, so I’m curious to know how you came to that conclusion.”

Bastien furrowed his brow. “Not to be forward, but she was literally hanging from the ceiling… We found a note in her room, and she had every reason to want to do it — considering she was about to be arrested.”

“Right… Speaking of that… I want to see that report again.”

“Pardon?”

“The report — the one that says Penelope’s DNA was all over the murder weapon because honestly, I think you’re full of shit.” Liam hissed.

“I most certainly am not, sir. The documents are in the security office. If you remove these cuffs, I will gladly retrieve them.” Bastien confidently responded.

“That won’t be necessary.” Liam knew if he told the truth, Olivia would find them and if she didn’t, Bastien just caught himself in another lie. “Now, the next order of business — where were you the night of the jamboree? I don’t remember seeing you at all.”

Bastien stiffened. “I was doing security checks around the estate—”

“If you were doing security checks, how’d a rogue photographer make it in?” Drake interjected.

Bastien swallowed thickly, his gulp echoing in the silence. “... What?”

“You heard what he said — answer the damn question.” Liam snapped.

“She must have—”

“She?” Liam interrupted with a chortle. “That’s funny — because I never mentioned gender. Do you know something that I don’t?”

“I only took a guess — there was a fifty percent chance I would be correct.” Bastien calmly, yet firmly, answered with a dismissive shrug. “I’m not precisely sure how they breached the perimeter, but we’ve been working to strengthen our units ever since.”

“Right…” Liam nodded and forcefully clenched his jaw. It took every ounce of his restraint not to reach across the table and wrap his hands around Bastien’s throat because he couldn’t trust a single word coming out of his mouth.

Drake spoke again before Liam could act on his intrusive thoughts. “What about the Apple Banquet? Where were you then?”

“I was with His Majesty while he spoke to the Beaumonts. Someone alerted me to the body, and I immediately sprung into the proper protocol.”

“No, not when the maid was found — earlier. Where were you before that?” Liam demanded.

Bastien hesitated, but quickly fixed his features. “I was addressing an issue regarding Countess Madeleine’s security arrangements. Her old guard needed to take personal leave, so I had to find a suitable replacement.”

“... And she will vouch for you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Liam’s frustration skyrocketed, as he didn’t know how to take that statement. The number of people he could trust seemed to only shorten by the day, yet Madeleine was never present, nor even an honorable mention on that list; the time to trust her word was not amid this chaos.

“Okay, then—” Liam started again, his agitation noticeably rising. “Do you know where Riley is?”

“I don’t, sir. All I know is she returned to New York, and—”

“How did you come to that conclusion, exactly? Because I’ve done some digging and found nothing to point to that. There are no traces of her after she left the jamboree whatsoever, Bastien; not flights, not vehicles — nothing.”

Bastien shifted in his seat. “My information led me to that conclusion, Your Majesty.”

“Well, your information was wrong, and I can’t help but feel you knew that all along, didn’t you?”

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, but—”

“You knew she didn’t return to New York because you took her away, right? Is that how she made it out undetected? Or are you the one who assaulted her?” Liam thought back to his out-of-body experience and remembered the shadow lingering in front of her door. “Or did you stand guard while it happened? Is that it?”

“I did no such thing.” Bastien hastily replied, but cleared his throat and added, “What would I gain from any of this? Why would I give a damn who you choose?”

“That’s kind of what I’m wondering.” Drake inserted with a skeptical eye. “Look, Bas — I don’t want to believe you had a hand in all this, but it’s not looking good, man.”

“What doesn’t look good?” Bastien returned. “All I’ve done is look for her! I’ve been trying to help you!”

“Bullshit,” Liam seethed. “You know something and I demand you tell me — right now.”

“I know nothing, sir. I’ve kept you updated on every piece of information uncovered.”

“You need to understand something —” Liam's breaths turned heavy and his face flushed every shade of crimson. “I am not fucking around. This is your final opportunity — if you know something and do not tell me, I will serve your head on a silver fucking platter at the next state function. Is that clear enough for you?” He rumbled through clenched teeth. The hand he raised to point at Bastien visibly trembled, as the dam broke and rage flowed freely through his body.

Bastien’s eyes widened, and he visibly swallowed. He quickly composed himself and softly answered, “I understand the circumstances have been — tense — for everyone involved. You’ve had a rough couple of weeks, and —”

Liam slammed his fist onto the table and shot up from his seat. “Do NOT fucking patronize me!” He bellowed.

The door suddenly swung open and Olivia marched inside. In her hands, she carried a folder along with a few smaller items, but her facial expression was the picture-perfect image of unrestrained fury. “You have a lot of explaining to do.” She rumbled as she bore her eyes into Bastien.

Never could she have imagined the man sitting before her would betray them in such a way, but now they had proof; undeniable, unavoidable, but yet — incredibly unsettling evidence.

Bastien audibly gulped as he recognized the documents and all traces of pigment in his complexion vanished. With so much going on, he didn’t have the chance to dispose of everything properly. Liam and his group of friends moved faster than anticipated, and with their unexpected changes to the tour, he fell behind. The important information was extracted long ago, but what remained was still very incriminating — for Bastien.

Powerful forces expected him to pull off the impossible, but he was only one person — how was he supposed to fend off four people, plus a hired professional? Multiple ends that should’ve received immediate attention didn’t. Penelope ranked fairly high on that list, but his concerns got cast aside. His instructions were to deflect, deter, and stay silent regarding the madness; trust the process and your reward will be bountiful, they would say. Regardless, he didn’t want to aid in this crazy scheme, but had no choice — they knew information about his past nobody should have uncovered, so he found himself backed into a corner.

But as Bastien stared at the evidence of his transgressions, he realized silence would no longer be an option. He knew one way or another at that moment he was as good as dead; the question was would it be at the hands of his seething monarch, the man he practically raised, or the people who made his life a living hell to begin with?

Olivia rifled through the things on the table until she found what she searched for. “Remember when Bastien told you he disposed of Riley’s phone and her note?” She held both items up to show everyone along with her letter, noting how the guard immediately tucked his chin into his chest. “The penmanship matches mine, meaning it’s the same as Penelope’s.”

Liam forcefully clenched his jaw. “You lied to me?”

“That’s not all,” Olivia continued. “Bastien told us Penelope is the one who killed the maid, but that’s not true. Sure, the gum was hers — hair too — but the funny thing is that as it turns out, there are two sets of results on that knife.”

“There’s not—”

Olivia cackled, cutting Bastien off. “Don’t even try to lie. I’m holding what appears to be the real results in my hands. What kind of moron keeps the original if he’s planning on cloning it to frame someone else? Fucking nitwit.” She shook her head, distaste lacing her words. “Of course, we’ll have these confirmed for legitimacy, but considering who this one lists as the culprit, I can see why you’d want to cover this up.”

Liam snatched the documents from her and scanned them. His eyes widened as he went through the text, his jaw falling further and further the longer he read. Penelope's fingerprints were on the murder weapon, but unlike the last report he saw, this one went more in-depth. Her DNA might've been on the knife, but only one or two barely distinguishable smears on the blade itself belonged to her. However, the lab noted prominent traces from someone else located everywhere, but mostly on the handle, indicating that their person of interest should be whoever the second set of prints belonged to.

But Liam never received this report, and when he read who the database found as the owner of that second set of prints, he realized why he wasn’t shown.

“It was you…” Liam gasped, finally tearing his attention off the file to center his glare on Bastien. “Why?”

Bastien remained silent. He kept his gaze locked on the table, but the sweat forming on his brow wasn’t unnoticed.

“We know why, Liam. He was trying to shut her up because she spoke with us. And that’s why he offed Penelope too — right, Bastien?” Olivia answered. “Dispose of the loose ends before they can out you?”

“I did not harm Lady Penelope in any way,” Bastien stated with utmost determination, looking directly into Olivia’s steely eyes as he did.

“But you know who did, and you were working to bury that too, correct?” She quickly retorted, arching her brow.

Bastien clenched his jaw and looked away, refusing to speak, but he didn’t need to — Olivia knew she was right.

“You can deny those accusations all you want, but the next ones will be fairly difficult to talk yourself out of,” Olivia snapped as she produced another file and showed it to everyone.

“Operation Ghost?” That title caught Liam’s attention, and his mouth fell agape when he read it. He flipped through the papers inside and realized this was a meticulously planned mission, not a coincidence. While he spiraled deeper into the abyss, further away from reality, intentional carnage ran rampant within his court, and it was all a part of the elaborate plan from the beginning.

Someone plotted to hurt Riley and take her away from him, and that thought momentarily left him breathless.

“Apparently so,” Olivia answered, remorse cracking through her stony features upon seeing Liam’s broken shock. She’d already searched the file and knew what lay ahead, but didn’t know how he would react; it wouldn’t be good regardless. “Someone altered or destroyed most of this —” She paused to throw a death glare at Bastien. “But… There’s something else…”

“What is it?” Drake inquired as he and Liam took in her hesitancy, causing the hair on the nape of their necks to stand at attention.

With a heavy sigh, Olivia opened an envelope and produced a few smaller documents. She slammed them down on the table one at a time, directly in Bastien’s downward cast line of vision. “Here’s Riley’s ID, her passport, and even her goddamn credit cards. Now tell me, Bastien — how did you think she got to New York without those?”

Liam snapped his head over to her. “What?!” He snatched the items off the table and stared at the photo on Riley’s passport in his trembling hands, his heart rate taking flight.

His worst fears suddenly became reality, because he knew it would’ve been impossible for her to get out of the country without identification. This confirmed that Ray was right; she never left Cordonia. Of everything he suspected of Bastien, the things he knew and worked to cover up completely blindsided Liam. It hurt him in a way he didn’t know was possible, to be betrayed by someone he put every single ounce of his trust in.

Plus, had it not been for Olivia and Ray, he probably would have gotten away with it, too. The thought alone created a forceful swarm of guilt as Liam realized once again — this was what he ignored for so long. His breaths turned shallow as his mind took this new information and ran with it, automatically assuming the worst and with no signs to point in a different direction, he couldn’t find any strings of hope no matter which way he looked.

The waves came crashing down, sending him into an instant spiral of equal parts devastation and fear. He swayed on his feet, but eventually lowered himself back into his chair, willing the wild rush to slow.

“What the fuck is this?!” Drake exclaimed, smoke nearly barreling out of his ears. “Where is she?!”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit! She couldn’t leave without this! You’ve been lying to us all along!”

“I did what I had to,” Bastien returned, his voice devoid of all emotion. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“What did you do to her, Bastien?!” Olivia reiterated. “You can’t deny you know something — if she’s in danger, you need to tell us so we can find her!”

“I did nothing to her! All I did was escort her from the premises to the airport — that’s it.” Bastien huffed, immediately regretting the slip-up, which earned him a unanimous gasp.

“What did you just say?” Liam rumbled with clenched fists, his daze of self-hatred shattering on the spot.

Bastien hesitated but realized it was useless to redact. “I said I escorted her from the premises—”

Liam lunged for him without a second thought. He slammed his face into the table and held him there with all his might by the back of his skull. “So you not only knew, but you fucking helped too?!”

“I did what I had—”

“You son of a bitch!” Liam yelled as he lifted Bastien’s head, only to bounce his cheek against the table with increased force. “I trusted you!”

Bastien tried to respond, but Liam swiftly continued. “You have manipulated and made a fool of me for the LAST fucking time! I told you what I’d do, yet you still lied to me? YOUR MONARCH?!”

Again, Bastien attempted to speak, but Liam wasn’t quite finished. “This WHOLE TIME… You’ve known — you fucking helped — but you continuously led me astray.”

“Sir—”

“YOU DO NOT SPEAK OVER ME!” Liam bellowed, slamming Bastien’s head a third time.

A long silence passed as Liam securely held Bastien by the back of his neck, using more force with every passing second. He saw nothing but blood — everything that would’ve gotten covered up ran through his mind; the murders, Riley, and what seemed to be a never-ending list of other possibilities.

Finally, Bastien timidly sliced through the tension. “Sir, I’m willing to tell you what I know and what I’ve done in exchange for safety. If you do not ensure my life, I will be dead within hours.” He pleaded, preparing to meet the table again. “You have no reason to trust me now, but I will tell you what I can…” He emphasized.

Liam met eyes with Olivia and Drake, a silent conversation taking place. In all honesty, nobody cared what happened to him after the fact; all that mattered right now was getting Bastien to talk by any means necessary. Whoever wanted him dead was more than welcome to finish the job, but not until after he confessed.

Liam released him with a shove but never said a word. Instead, he strode back to the chair across from Bastien and slowly retook his seat. When Liam lifted his head, the pure fury staring back at him slightly took Bastien aback. The patient presence he’d grown accustomed to was long gone, replaced by a man driven to the brink of insanity. Those typically bright baby blues were now dark, vicious, and wild — nearly animalistic as his stare tore through Bastien. It sent a shiver of dread down his spine and made him momentarily fearful of his usually calm and composed king. His head throbbed, but he knew that would not be the worst of what he received — regardless of whose hands he suffered from.

Liam intently held his gaze for a long moment, clenching and unclenching his jaw, but finally spoke in an eerily calm voice. “... Tell us.”

Bastien strode through the country jamboree with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he recalled what would happen tonight. A suitor would be removed from the competition, with or without her cooperation. The trap was loaded and ready to go; all they needed was the prey — Riley.

Bastien located Penelope in the crowd and watched her approach Riley. She was deep into a conversation with Maxwell, but Penelope slipped in and played the part surprisingly well. He recognized her shaky hands even from afar, but she discreetly slipped at least half of the pharmaceuticals into Riley’s drink, unbeknownst to her or Maxwell. He didn’t think that part was necessary, but the force beyond insisted it was essential so they would force her to her room before everyone else.

After a time, Bastien observed as Riley hugged Maxwell and headed toward the estate. He quietly followed behind in the shadows as she walked through the deserted halls to her room, cursing the creaky floorboards underneath his feet, but the woman he trailed didn’t notice a thing. Riley skipped, hummed a tune, and even did a little twirl; she had no cares in the world and had no clue that her perception of a fairy tale was about to be shattered.

As her door shut, Bastien took position outside, crossed his arms, and waited for the job to be completed. Everyone else remained at the party outside; it was his assignment to ensure the vicinity stayed clear. He knew who occupied the room neighboring hers, which only fueled the need to get this done and over with as quickly and smoothly as possible.

People spoke behind the door — the voices escalating by the second — but Bastien made it a point to drown them out. The situation could go one of two ways, depending on Riley's cooperation, and it didn't take long for him to realize she chose the hard way. Although he found it difficult to ignore her pleas for help, his allegiance aligned elsewhere.

After a time, a few gentlemen approached but Bastien allowed them access, as he expected them. He didn’t know who they were, just that they would deal with ‘relocating’ Tariq; his task was Riley. One had jet-black hair, while the other donned a baseball cap. They wore a matching dark ensemble, aside from the hat and one having thick, circular lens glasses. A holster of weapons surrounded their belts, making the hair on his arms stiffen. The pair went inside without a word, but Bastien felt their eyes on him as they entered.

The deafening silence hung for what felt like centuries, but eventually, they re-emerged with their cargo in tow.

“Unhand me this instant!” Tariq demanded as the muscles dragged him away.

“Not a chance, fancy boy.” The man with glasses snickered. “Got a special place for you.”

“I did what I was supposed to do!” Tariq pleaded, his tone changing once he realized the seriousness of his situation. “Please — have some compassion!”

“No can do. Boss’s orders were strict — toss you in a hole and throw those God-awful loafers into the ocean.” The dark-haired male snapped his fingers before adding, “I can leave the shoes on if you’d prefer — put some cement in them and send you both on a journey to the bottom of the Mediterranean.” His delight showed brightly, causing Bastien’s pulse rate to skyrocket.

Tariq suddenly planted his feet firmly on the ground. “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?! OR WHO MY FATHER IS?” He bellowed. “You won’t get away with this — I WILL ENSURE THAT YOU—”

Out of nowhere, the male with the ball cap hit him with the butt of his pistol, silencing his tirade. Tariq slumped to the floor with his eyes rolled back, blood gushing from his nose in an instant.

“Thank you, Claudius. I couldn’t stomach another second of his useless ranting.”

“You and I both.”

“Get him loaded up — we’re on a schedule and need to move.” Claudius hefted Tariq on his shoulder with ease and quickly left out the servants’ exit. As he disappeared, the remaining man shifted his attention to Bastien. “So… You’re prepared to handle the fallout?”

“Of course.” He confidently responded.

“Are you sure? Because I don't think you understand how messy this situation could get in the future… And honestly? If the boss hadn’t enlisted little Miss Penny, this entire operation would’ve crashed and burned before it even took off.” He rolled his eyes. “You thought she would agree to this just for a spot beside the queen?”

“It might surprise you what people will do to get ahead around here.”

“Yes, but they’re willing to execute better with a little — added motivation.” He flashed a wide, sinister smile. “You should know better than anyone…”

Bastien swallowed thickly, his entire body going rigid. “I’m not sure what you’re referencing.”

“Of course not.” He snickered. “I don’t blame you — I wouldn’t want anyone to know you’re the one who mur—”

Bastien held a hand up. “That’s enough.” He spat out.

The male’s smile widened. “As I said, people execute better with added motivation.” He patted Bastien’s shoulder with a little too much force.

“Was there a point to this?” Bastien rumbled through clenched teeth, shaking off the man’s palm.

“I just wanted to make sure it’s one hundred percent clear — you need to ensure anything regarding this stays buried. If too many people ask the right questions before we reach the finish line and the boss has to get involved again… Well —” He grinned, baring his teeth. “That’d just be a shame, wouldn’t it?”

A chill shot down the length of Bastien’s spine. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you threatening me?”

“You may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but you’re not that stupid — you know what will happen.” He responded, amusement written on his cold features. His almond eyes deepened to black, leaving Bastien momentarily speechless.

“I’m certain that won’t be necessary.” Bastien confidently answered after he regained his composure. His companion nodded with an eerie smirk but casually lingered around the door. “Is there something else I can do for you?”

“I was just wondering about Lady Riley… Where you’re planning on sending her since you received the — opportunity to handle her?” He nonchalantly inquired, acting as disinterested as possible. “Such a great honor you have… One I practically begged for.”

“The States, where she came from.” Bastien’s direction was to ship her back to New York as discreetly as possible. Even though the plan took a drastic turn, that was the one constant that couldn't change because otherwise, they would out themselves for taking the reins and disobeying a direct order. She would land on her feet, start a new life, and forget all about Cordonia. Liam would surely want to search for her, but all Bastien had to do was stall until the coronation, when their cover for removing Riley would come to light.

“I see, I see… Well, hopefully, that works out for her.” He smiled, the sight raising goosebumps on Bastien’s arms.

Before Bastien could respond, the door creaked open, and a hooded presence strode out. He paid Bastien no mind, instead focusing on the dark-haired male. “Let us vacate. The party is nearly over, and we have tremendous amounts of work ahead of us if we want to pull this off.”

“What about the court? We can’t go back to —”

“Do not fret, Anton… We have a plan… Trust the process; this is only the beginning. Everything will work out as it should in due time, but we must move — now.”

The pair quickly walked away, but not before Bastien heard Anton loudly whisper, “About that — pit-stop…” to his companion.

Bastien momentarily pondered that statement, but shook off the queasiness inside his stomach, concluding they must be referring to Tariq. As he stared at Riley’s door, a brief flicker of guilt traveled through him. Riley did nothing wrong, and he knew that, but this is the task he regretfully accepted. It was not a personal vendetta, by any means, but this clueless woman aimlessly landed herself in the middle of the nobility; she didn’t understand the untold, dark side of the court and its inhabitants, but would learn on this day.

Bastien cautiously opened the door and entered to find Riley on the edge of her bed, cradling her side. She snapped her head over to him as she heard his footsteps, and her eyes filled to the brim with tears when she met his gaze. He once again fought a wave of remorse at seeing her hopeful expression, knowing he was not the knight in shining armor she assumed he was.

“Bastien, you—you have to help me… Please…” Riley croaked. Her words came out slightly slurred, although it surprised him that the earlier sedatives hadn’t taken a harder effect.

“I’m going to, Lady Riley. First, I need to ensure you’re not carrying anything on you.”

Bastien assisted Riley to a standing position, which she slowly did without question. He didn’t know exactly what transpired, but she had a gash on her side, blood soaking through the thin hoodie she wore. With her permission, he checked the wounds, none of which were bad enough to seek immediate medical attention. Her face was littered with cuts, surely bruises to follow with time, as one of her cheeks was already tinted with a light purple. He started at her shoulders and patted down to her abdomen, but stopped when he felt something in her pocket and pulled out her phone. He nonchalantly slipped the device into his jacket, but despite his best efforts, Riley watched him do it.

“That is my property! You can’t take that!” She protested.

“I’m afraid I can… You are to leave completely empty-handed. Now, we have to get going — you have a flight to catch.” Bastien placed a hand on Riley’s arm to lead her away.

Riley firmly planted her feet in place, shaking away his grip. “Don’t do this, Bastien!”

“You have no choice in this matter and we’re on a time limit,” Bastien replied as he checked his watch.

“What about all my stuff?”

“As I said, empty-handed.” He didn’t understand that part either, but concluded it was easier to shove her on a plane with no items to accompany her.

“On whose authority?!” Riley exclaimed. When he didn’t answer, she reiterated, “Who told you to do this to me, Bastien?!”

“That is confidential information.”

Riley snorted, her frustration written all over her face. “Bullshit! At least be man enough to tell me!”

“Fine. You want to know who did it?” He held her glare, letting the tension linger, but finally answered, “It was Liam.”

Riley stepped away as if she took a blow to the gut, but her devastation quickly morphed into the polar opposite.

Riley laughed; hard enough that tears spilled down her cheeks. “You expect me to believe that? Liam? Of all people?” She shook her head, slightly bouncing from her chuckles. “You think I’m that naïve and stupid?”

“Believe what you will, that matters not to me but my instructions were simple, so we must get moving.” He stated, very matter-of-factly.

“Bastien,” Riley pleaded, any signs of amusement suddenly disappearing. “Don’t do this. I’ll just — I don’t know!” She cried, anxiety prominent in her features. “I won’t say anything to anyone — I swear on my grandmother’s life! Or–or we can tell Liam! Whatever got you wrapped up in this, he will understand.” She reasoned. “Please — you don’t have to conform. We can find a way out of this together.”

Bastien considered it for a second, but ultimately gave Riley a sad smile and nudged her toward the door. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, but he remained firm. He quickly dropped her phone and the pre-written note he received inside her bedside table and went to the threshold, stepping over shards of glass from a broken planter and a bloodied garment.

Leaving her phone there meant it would be an immediate dead end for Liam and her sponsors. He would want to call her — possibly track her — but this ensured that door was closed before it could even be opened. It was a distraction tactic to keep the prince occupied until his reason for her departure would present itself to him, where hopefully, he would drop the matter for good.

Bastien held her stare for a moment before he cleared his throat, emphasizing the need to move. Riley hung her head and eventually slowly walked out the door, quietly sobbing as she did.

Bastien led her down the long hallway toward the servants’ exit, as their SUV waited close by. Riley was incredibly unsteady on her feet, whether it was from the earlier medication or her injuries, he wasn’t sure, but he held his hand out to steady her wobbly steps on multiple occasions. He glanced back and locked eyes with the maid he summoned to clean the area, and even with his dark sunglasses, he still spotted her apprehension. The interaction was brief as he and Riley reached the end of the hallway, but something in his gut said he would have to deal with that later.

Assisting Riley down the stairs turned out to be tricky, as she was in an incredible amount of pain. By the end, he hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her the rest of the way down. She didn’t yell or scream, not that it would have mattered if she tried; the party still ‘raged’ in the opposite direction, leaving the vicinity barren of wandering ears. If she got combative he had a plan for that as well, but was glad she opted to cooperate, instead of throwing a tantrum and meeting a fate similar to Tariq.

He sat her on her feet when they emerged outside and escorted her to the vehicle, quickly securing her inside. He used no restraints, but she didn’t resist one bit; almost as if she’d accepted her fate, or her body just didn’t have the strength to fight back. There were no remnants of Tariq or anyone else, but Bastien moved with fire under his feet as if someone lurked right around the corner.

Within the blink of an eye, they were at the airport, where Bastien unloaded her from the back of the car. The entire ride he heard Riley’s sniffles from the backseat, but he drove faster — to unload this package and hopefully, this would be a straightforward operation. Once she was out of the vehicle his job should be done, unless too many questions arose.

Bastien parked toward the back of the abandoned parking lot so the only thing on security footage would be Riley entering the airport. With his connections, he knew exactly where the cameras were and discreetly slipped into a blind spot. Riley could hardly stand as he pulled her from the vehicle, but that was not his concern.

He did his part — all she had to do was walk inside and leave Cordonia forever.

He shoved a small envelope into her hands and said, “Here is your ID, passport, credit cards, and a ticket to New York. It’s been a pleasure, Lady Riley.” And with that, Bastien turned on his heel and returned to his vehicle, speeding away before he could second guess his decision.

He glanced back in the rearview mirror and saw the silhouette of a woman standing there disoriented, wounded, alone, terrified, and defenseless, but quickly averted his gaze, centering on the road. He nearly pushed his foot through the floorboard to get away faster, but bile rose into the back of his throat as a chilling realization sat in; he didn’t know how, but this was far from over, and the chances of him making it to see his next birthday just substantially dwindled.

“I assumed she boarded the plane, but I later received her identification and credit cards in a sealed envelope from an unidentifiable source. I tried to help her… I really did…” Bastien finished with his head bowed.

“No, you sure as shit did not!” Drake bellowed, a mix of fury and shock written on his features. “I can’t believe you!”

Bastien flinched. “I did what I had to do—”

“Where is she, then? Because she never got on that fucking plane, Bastien!” Olivia hollered.

“I don’t know! I told you everything I know about it! I tried to find out, but I can’t!”

“This is fucking unreal.” Drake shook his head and scoffed. “You expect me to believe you really don’t know? You have her ID! Her goddamn passport!”

Bastien forcefully clenched his jaw. “I received them before the tour in a sealed envelope. I don’t know where it came from and I can't trace its origin.”

Drake scowled. “We’re supposed to believe that?” He looked away and rubbed a hand down his face, his frustration steadily rising. “Let’s say I do — you chose to keep that to yourself? You didn’t think that was worth mentioning when we opened an investigation into her goddamned disappearance?!” He over-enunciated, sarcasm dripping off every syllable.

“What was I supposed to do, Drake?!” Bastien responded, but couldn’t fathom meeting his eyes for even a brief second.

“Not be a spineless piece of shit, for one,” Olivia answered. “For two, you could’ve refused to cooperate from the beginning. Or, told the truth, regardless of what would’ve happened to you then… Or, made sure she got on the plane, at least. You drugged her and left her for dead, Bastien! Who knows where she’s at by now?! Do you realize how much time we’ve wasted because of you?!”

“I did not drug her or leave her for dead—”

“But you didn’t fucking stop it either, and that’s just as damning in my eyes,” Drake spoke in a bland, empty voice as he tried to comprehend this betrayal. “I don’t know what happened to you, but you’re not the man I used to look up to, not anymore… I can’t believe you did this and continuously lied to us about it!”

Bastien slouched. “I never lied—”

“Bullshit! You’ve done nothing but lie! You’ve gotta stop and tell us the truth for once!”

“I told you everything I know, everything I’ve done. I killed the maid and had every intention of Lady Penelope taking the fall — I’ve led you astray and tampered with evidence — I admit it.”

“I don’t care about any of that shit right now!” Drake shouted. “We wanna know what you did with Brooks, Bastien.”

Bastien sighed. “Drake, I told you, I don’t know where she’s at! She was supposed to go inside and board the plane!”

“But you didn’t wait and ensure she did, at least?” Olivia asked with an arched brow.

“I didn’t think I needed to! After what I heard coming out of that room, I assumed she would run inside to get away… If anyone knows, it’s probably that Anton character!”

“Anton…” Olivia repeated, her curiosity peaking. “What do you know about him? And the other guy? Claudius?”

“Absolutely nothing. I’d never seen them before and haven’t since. All I know is they were in charge of relocating Tariq.”

“And you don’t know where that is, either?”

“No, I don’t. I didn’t ask questions, and I wasn’t told. I ran their names in the system to see if I could figure anything out, but they’re ghosts — there aren’t even medical records with either name on it.”

Olivia scoffed. “So, why do it, then?”

“I have my reasons…” He finally gathered the courage to take a peek in Drake's direction, but when he spotted the wild blaze of fire in his eyes, swiftly glanced away.

“Yeah… Okay…” Olivia indignantly laughed. “So was this your idea, or were you working under someone else’s watch?” He didn’t reply, but she and Drake noticed his shoulders tense. “That’s all the answer I need. So who is it? Who’s pulling the strings here?”

Bastien shook his head. “That I can’t tell you.”

“You’re already a dead man no matter which way you look at it, so you may as well just tell us. If you do, there is the tiniest chance that you may receive mercy,” Olivia growled as her hand instinctively reached for the dagger hidden in her waistband.

“I’m aware of that, but I cannot tell you.”

“Bas, you need to fucking—”

“Damn it, Drake, I can’t!” Bastien shouted. He knew the pain Drake felt was nothing compared to what he’d feel if he knew the truth, but he refused to open that can of worms.

Liam remained eerily quiet as he listened to Bastien retell the events of that night. To say he was fuming would be the understatement of the millennium. Bastien’s continuous misleading and knowledge of Riley being drugged, assaulted, and potentially still in Cordonia sent Liam overboard. Not to mention, he basically left her for dead in a parking lot. Bastien did all of that; he may not have physically harmed her himself, but he stood guard, let it happen, and actively worked to cover it up, making Liam physically sick to his stomach.

The all-consuming rage he tried to control reached its boiling point. He was no longer asking nicely — he was demanding.

Liam slowly stood from his chair, the loud screech halting the surrounding bickering. He leaned over the table on his knuckles and positioned himself at eye level with his former guard. “You told her that I did it?”

Bastien’s eyes spread eagle. “I just needed to get her out of the door… I assumed that would get her to leave willingly, but she didn’t believe a word I said.”

Liam indignantly laughed, the sound sending waves of uncertainty through everyone in the room. “So it wasn’t enough to physically break her — you had to pile emotional pain on top, too?”

“Sir, she did not believe me,” Bastien reasoned. “She knew you would never do such a thing. It was only a last-ditch attempt on my part to get her out.”

Liam mindlessly nodded, ignoring the new wave of dread filling his veins. He’d convinced himself even through all this madness, when they reached the bottom of this intricate web, there was still a slight chance Riley could love him back, but that hope burst into flames instantaneously. Regardless of whether she believed the lie, he was more determined than ever to find her, ensure her safety, and make sure she knew he played no part in this. He had no intentions of hiding his prolonged negligence of the situation from her, but wasn’t willing to let her hate him over something he had no part of.

Liam took a deep, steadying breath and spoke in a low, timbre rumble. “I’m ordering you to tell me who orchestrated all this, Bastien — you owe me that much.”

Bastien remained silent for a long moment as he held his monarch’s intent gaze. Eventually, he sat back in his chair and broke eye contact while pursing his lips together. “Damn it, tell me!” Liam shouted, his voice echoing against the concrete walls.

Bastien hesitated, as he quickly planned his path from here. The potential to get caught was always there, and he thought extensively about what he would do and who to say in this situation. His secrets fueled a small portion of his decision, but the majority centered around fear. He wouldn’t be safe either way but would take his punishment from the crown. Aside from keeping his skeletons inside the closet, to defy the — others — would essentially put nails in his coffin, just waiting to be hammered in. He’d seen firsthand the carnage they were capable of; a couple of treason charges were nothing in comparison.

But if he pointed them in the right direction, it wouldn't be him outing the culprit.

The tension lingered but right when Olivia opened her mouth to push, Bastien quietly answered, “It was your father…”

The room went silent; not a single breath to be heard. Olivia took in the steadfast determination in Bastien’s features and knew for once — he wasn’t lying. And it made some sense; Bastien was purely manpower, not an active brain contributing, and Constantine had the power to force him into anything. However, she instantly knew the former monarch was not the person behind that door with Riley.

Constantine was in high demand and there was no way he could’ve slipped away from the jamboree that early unnoticed. Olivia recalled that night, and to her knowledge, Constantine retired at the same time as Liam. Plus, if they believed Liam’s out-of-body experience to be reality, Constantine was right beside him while the attack took place.

She believed him but also realized while he told the truth, he didn’t tell all of it. There was more to the story, and she intended to get any and every ounce of information out of him, no matter what it took.

Olivia opened her mouth to address Bastien, but Liam beat her to it. “My father?” He repeated, confusion showcased brightly on his face.

“Yes, sir,” Bastien softly spoke. “I know that may be hard for you to hear, but—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Liam suddenly bellowed as his shock quickly morphed into dangerous fury. “You’re still trying to lie?!”

Bastien’s eyes widened. “I swear to you — he’s the one who told me to send her back to New York.”

Liam shook his head, his face reddening with every sullen breath. “No… You’re just trying to cover your own ass, that’s it!”

Bastien sighed. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but that is the truth. Your father is the one who—”

Liam paced the small area, his racing thoughts spiraling out of control. “My father would not do this, regardless of how strongly he felt about it. This is fucking evil and deranged — he is a lot of things, but he would never do something like this to me.” He seethed. “So I will ask you one final time — who was it?”

Silence commenced once more, but Bastien eventually answered. “I told you who it was. If you choose not to believe me, that’s your prerogative. I did what he ordered me to do.”

Fast as lightning, Liam brought his fist up and connected with Bastien’s jaw. He went around the table and hit him again, and again, until Bastien was on his knees with his head dangling in between his still cuffed hands. Liam didn’t care if he killed him or not at that moment; all that mattered was exacting revenge on behalf of his beloved, even if she wasn’t there to witness it. The monarch checked out, replaced by a vicious beast — a starved one, at that.

Liam saw nothing except Riley’s face, the sound of her cries from his out-of-body experience echoing in his mind. His hand throbbed as he relentlessly took his frustrations out on Bastien, but he barely felt it because of the pure hatred and adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Olivia and Drake watched, exchanging worried glances as Liam continued his assault. Both felt incredible amounts of anger toward Bastien, but they saw the bits of truth. Liam might not want to believe it, but Constantine made the most sense.

However, Olivia wholeheartedly believed Constantine was not the one in that room. He may have ordered Bastien to engage, but deep down she knew he was not the one calling the shots that night. As Liam continued to pummel him, she had half a mind to stop him, but the person taking out his anger on his crumpled guard was not her childhood friend, and even she was hesitant to interfere.

It was Drake who finally intervened, laying a firm hand on his shoulder. “Li…” When Liam shook him off, he tried again with more force. “Liam!”

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” Liam shouted, quickly returning to his mission. Every bone that snapped underneath his fist soothed a portion of his soul, but he wasn’t willing to stop until Bastien felt even a small portion of the pain enveloping his entire being.

The door crept open and Leo went to step inside, Maxwell close behind, but halted when he spotted a bloodied and battered Bastien dangling from the side of the table. Liam continued his attack, completely oblivious to the additional presences in the room. Leo noticed the mixed expressions from Olivia and Drake and quickly pieced a vague conclusion together. Never in his life did he think Bastien could be capable of such atrocities, but clearly they found something to tie him to it.

Leo stepped toward Liam and timidly tapped his shoulder to gather his attention. “Li, we found Penelope. She was headed to the palace with orders for incineration upon arrival, but we stopped it and she should be back soon. I talked with Landon and Emmaline and they’ve agreed to send her wherever you see fit for autopsy. Ray recommended a specialist, but I wanted your input before I started the process.”

Liam finally stopped his assault and stared down at Bastien’s crumpled body with labored breaths. “The amount of which you’re willing to go to bury this is ridiculous! WHO could be that important that you would do all this — risk EVERYTHING for?!” He bellowed, his voice booming against the walls.

Bastien never answered, whether by choice or from his injuries, but a silence took over as Liam really pondered that question for a moment. This wasn’t just some measly scandal anymore; this was an extensive operation concocted to remove the top competitors and ensure he married Madeleine. At first assumption, it would be easy to point a finger at Madeleine herself, but Bastien held no allegiance to her, and the two hardly spoke before the start of the engagement tour. She held no power over him and had no way to get him to bend to her will.

And that was simply too easy — right?

Bastien’s involvement suddenly narrowed down the potential list of suspects, as Liam knew there was a very short number of people he would have no choice but to obey. Despite everything, he didn’t want to believe Bastien willingly did all of this. He expressed feeling some kind of remorse while it was happening, but he still aided and lied about it afterward, making his guilt irrelevant.

He had no reason to trust Bastien, but the more he thought about it, the more his heart accepted the tale.

The betrayal from his former guard was a lot to process, but knowing who could have ultimately constructed the whole thing shredded him into a million tiny pieces. Half of him was ready to unleash a wrath like no other, while the other half wanted to crumple into a ball and cry. His already fragile heart couldn't take the strain; right when he thought this situation couldn't get worse, it did. Someone so close forcefully took something so precious, knowing how much Riley meant to him, and it completely blindsided him.

His back hit the wall and he slid down it, clutching his chest. Leo and Drake quickly moved to catch him, thinking he was having another episode, but Liam shook them off. As everyone took in his dejection, they realized he accepted who their next subject of questioning would be.

“Leo…” Liam swallowed thickly, his breaths rapid and labored. “Tell me — tell me our father wouldn’t do this… He’s not evil, just hard-headed — right?”

Leo winced. “I… I wish I could, Li, but…” He didn’t want to believe it but with Constantine’s infatuation with the throne, he couldn’t put it past him. Their father was never malicious, but he had a control problem regarding the crown; Leo knew firsthand.

But would he go this far?

Liam let out a forceful huff of air and ran his hands down his face, trying and failing to keep his tears at bay. “I — I thought it was bad that Bastien betrayed me, but — him? Why would he do this?”

“I want to answer that, Liam, but I’m not the person to ask… One way or another, you know we have to confront him…”

Liam grimly nodded. “I know… I just — what if he is the one who did all of this? What am I supposed to do then, Leo?”

Leo remained silent for a long moment, gathering his thoughts, but was to no avail, as he genuinely didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know, Liam… I really don’t…”

Keiki

1.30 am

I paced around my room and hoped I wouldn’t wake my brother, Luna or the twins.

”Come on pick up. Pick up.“ I kept muttering.

A few seconds later I heard Alexis' sleep ridden voice.

”Keiks, do you know what time it is?“

”Yes. But I need your help.“

”Fine. Only because you’re my best friend otherwise I’d hang up. Okay spill girl. What’s so important that you had to wake me?“

”My date with Koa? Like how do I ask him?“

”That’s the emergency? Oh come on Keiks. Look, you can wait until he asks you out.“

”Yeah I’d wait until I was 80. No, I want to ask him out.“

”Okay then go to him, flick your eyelashes, smile and ask him.“

”I’m not Anne. What if I wrote him a letter?“

”Do you want to put it in morse code too?“

”What?“ I was confused for a second by what Alexis said.

Lexi‘s sigh was audible even from my end.

”Look, if you like him, ask him. There’s nothing wrong with a woman asking out a guy. With that being said Alexis is going back to sleep. Byeee.“

The beeping sound of Alexis who’d hung up on me echoed in my ear. Before I could think better of it I shot Koa a text.

»Are you still awake?«

Minutes passed by without a response. I waited and waited.

Worst anxious moment of my life. If you don’t count applying for colleges and waiting for a reply.

I sighed and dropped down on my bed with my phone on my stomach.

He was probably fast asleep by now. Tomorrow we both had morning classes, he was going to be at the lab a lot. And I knew he’s got his study for corals on his mind.

Damn it, I should have sent that text a long time ago, not waited half a century to hit send. A tiny piece of me was glad I did because I fucking wanted to get to know him. So what if I asked him out first? Alexis was right. Where does it say the guy has to make the first step?

I sighed again and looked at my screen only to see there’s no response.

Tired of waiting I quickly got dressed in my pink coral spaghetti dress and put on some sandals. It’s good that the dress is easy to manoeuvre in, otherwise I’d never make it outside. Or worse I’d have to use the front door. Sneaking out isn’t always as easy as it looks in movies, but thank god for the big tree sitting outside my window.

Slowly I waited for my foot to find stability on the branch and then I climbed down the thick tree branch. Once I was outside, I made sure that the window was wide open so I could sneak back in.

I always took a walk at the beach when I felt restless. Or anxious. Or both like right now. I started walking and I felt my phone vibrate in my hand. I saw it’s not only a text. No, he was actually calling me. Shit. I’m not prepared for that. What should I say?

Okay let’s take a deep breath and answer the phone like a normal person and not like a love struck weirdo.

Koa

My phone lit up on my nightstand and I fumbled for it in the dark, only to push it over the edge of the nightstand, making my phone land on the floor.

”Shit. Why does the universe hate me so much?“ I cursed and turned on the lamp on my nightstand to see where my phone went. I found it and saw it was still intact.

Once my phone was unlocked I saw I got a text from Keiki. Instantly making me smile. What is she doing awake? It’s 2:00 am.

I had the wild urge to hear her voice, not just see a text and respond to it.

Looking around in my contacts I found »Wildflower«, clicked the call button before I could change my mind. After a second I heard her voice clearly as if she was sitting right next to me.

”Ko?“ Hearing her voice soothed something deep within me. Like the ocean always does. She has the same effect on me as the ocean waves.

”Hey Wildflower. Missed me already?“

”Dream on. But now that you answered your phone already...“

”What now? You’ve got something important to tell me at 2 am?“ I can’t resist teasing her.

She scoffed.

”Smartass.“ She replied.

I laughed out loud and I‘m at ease as I sat up in my bed, talking to a girl I’m falling harder and harder for each day.

”Okay we’ve established I’m the smart one…“

”And one with a great ass.“ She said though it must’ve slipped out as I could hear her sigh on the other end.

”That‘s not what I wanted to say.“ I heard her mutter.

”Oh please tell me how you really feel. Have been checking me out, haven’t you?“

”So what if I have? Is that a crime? You’re very good-looking and you know it.“ She responded.

”I don’t actually give a damn if other people find me good-looking or not. There’s only one person’s opinion I care about.“ I said and couldn't help the smile that bloomed on my face.

”Who?“ Her voice sounded suspiciously jealous and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

”Glad you find this funny Haulani.“ She said and I grinned even though she couldn’t see it.

”Where are you right now? I can hear the waves crashing.“

It’s true I’ve been able to hear waves in the background and thought she opened her window. Her family lives close to the beach I think.

”I’m at the beach. I couldn’t sleep. So I went for a walk.“ Her voice sounded far away, as if she was somewhere else with her thoughts.

”Why don’t I come along? Only if you want?“ I asked tentatively.

There was a beat of silence before I heard her voice again.

”Sure I’d love some company.“

I smiled as I heard that she’d love my company. I just can’t help it, she makes me happy in a way no one else has gotten close to in a while. Not even Isabella. But that’s a story for another time.

”Text me where you are and I’ll be there in a sec.“

”Ok.“ We hung up and a second later I got a text with her location. I was faster out the door than you could yell pancakes.

Keiki

I slipped off my sandals and wandered around. I dipped my feet in the cool ocean water as I was waiting for Koa. It was almost 3 am now.

Damn we’re going to be so tired tomorrow, but who the fuck cared? As long as we had a good time, who‘s going to mind?

As soon as I thought that, I heard someone coming closer and when I turned my head I saw Koa‘s tall frame coming closer.

He really came. He honest to god came when I called.

Without any thought my feet kept moving, getting me closer to Koa. And when I stood in front of him I just wanted to hug him because he was here.

As if he could read my mind he opened his arms wide. Making me almost crush him, but he only chuckled and didn't say anything.

”So you missed me this much, huh?“

He said, half of my face still pressed against his chest, nodding. He smelled of fresh laundry and something like mint. I looked up at him.

”Yeah. I haven’t realized how much I’ve missed you.“ And then I hugged him tighter, if that’s even possible, as he kissed the top of my head.

”Welcome to the club. I’ve missed you too, Wildflower.“ He mumbled and we stayed like this for some time not able or willing to let go of the other. But eventually we released each other from our embrace and started walking down the deserted beach.

He pulled me closer and I leaned into him. The soft ocean breeze pulled at our hair.

”So what prompted the walk? You mentioned you couldn’t sleep.“ He asked and I didn't know what to say at first, so I shrugged my shoulders noncommittally.

”I had a lot on my mind. My studies, but I was also thinking about when we’d go out. You know? A date? We’ve said we would but we never seem to find the right time. And I kinda got sad when I thought about it.“ I said, realizing I shared more than I wanted to.

Koa stopped short, making me almost bite sand.

”That’s what kept you up at night? Come on Keiks. That‘s easily solved. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight.“

”It’s already tomorrow.“ I pointed out.

”Even better. Which means less time to waste.“ He said and I could feel the first rain drops on my skin.

We both looked up and tried to gauge what to do.

”Should we make a run for it?“ Koa asked as the rain began to hit harder.

”Race you to the car.“ I grinned and sprinted away, not giving him time to answer. I could feel his smile as I was running towards his car, Koa close on my feet.

Koa

I let her have fun. If it helped her distract her from whatever kept her awake at night I’ll let her have fun and be carefree.

As I reached my car Keiki was already waiting for me. We were both soaked to the bone, but we were both grinning like idiots.

A few seconds later I just wanted to feel her close and the next words that slipped out of my mouth weren’t the ones I wanted to say but I let them spill anyway.

”May I have this dance?“ I extended my hand, and Keiki put her hand in mine.

”It’s raining.“ She pointed out, as if that would stop me from dancing with her.

”So? Let’s have some fun. Come on, don't tell me you’re chicken?“

”Who are you calling chicken? Let’s dance Romeo.“

”Music to my ears.“

Keiki grinned as we danced in the rain.

We danced for a couple of minutes for sure, even though it felt as if we'd danced for hours. The heartbeat was the rhythm that was guiding us.

I spun her away from me and a second later lightning struck the sky and we both clung to each other of our own accord.

I’m honestly not sure who moved first, but in the end it didn’t really matter.

A second later I cupped her face into my hands. I needed her lips as if I was dying of thirst. Drinking from her lips like they were wine. She leaned into me, fitting into me like a glove. Her hands roamed over my wet shirt, and she clearly felt it wasn’t enough and went on her tiptoes to reach my hair only to drag her hand through it. Making me smile against her lips.

I didn’t know for how long we were standing there kissing each other, but I knew right then and there I was in trouble.

We’ve known each other for months now, but it seems all we have are stolen moments. I wanted to go out with her and get to know her better for some time now. To find out what she liked and didn‘t like. How she looked when she woke up in the morning. What face she made when she didn‘t like a certain dish or drink.

All the small details that made her, her. Unique. Beautiful. Absolutely amazing. My Wildflower.

I broke off the kiss and leaned my forehead against hers. As our breathing slowed down I took her face in my hands and just brushed a strand of chocolate hair out of her face, not able to resist touching her. Her whiskey brown eyes turned a shade darker from passion, which is a detail I stored away for later.

”Your place or mine?“ She said before I could mouth anything and I laughed softly.

”Well I can take you to mine. Just for sleeping. We both have morning classes. So we should get some shuteye.“ I said when I took out my phone to look at the time 3.55, I also checked if my phone was okay only to see it was intact and there was no water damage from the rain.

Keiki nodded.

”Let me at least write my brother a note saying I’m already at the university. So he’ll see it first thing in the morning.“

”Sounds good.“

We both got into the car making a pit stop at Keiki’s place so she could leave a note. I memorized where she lived so I could drop by for midnight dates like these.

After that I drove us to my place. Taking the girl I’m falling for each day more and more to my place.

It was kinda nerve wracking since I wanted to impress her just because she was becoming important to me.

I turned off the ignition and waited. I don’t know for what. A sign? Lightning? For pigs to grace the sky? Dragons?

”So are we going inside or are we going to sleep in the car?“ Keiki broke the silence and I turned to look at her, her hair still a little wet from the rain. I couldn’t imagine my hair looked any better.

I nodded to myself and exited the car as she did the same. The slamming of the car doors was somehow louder in the quiet evening air than expected.

Damn if the slamming of a car door didn’t make me almost jump out of my skin, then I’m really nervous.

And I swam with sharks, so nothing really fazed me except showing the girl I really liked my humble abode.

”Right. Yes. Sure come on.“

I looked at the beautiful planted flowers outside and the porch keeping the hot sun away, though the sun was still away for a couple of hours. I opened the front door and went inside.

”You’ve got a nice place.“

”Thanks. I’m renting it from my parents.“

”Really? That’s cool. So you guys live together?“

”No. I have my own place. Almost all five of my siblings have their own place. Since my oldest sister got married and had her baby she and her husband needed a bigger place.“

”Aww. That’s so cute.“

I grinned at Keiki and she smiled warmly back at me. Talking about my family always brought me the greatest joy.

”Yeah Dalia is the cutest. Though my other two siblings live with my parents, since one of my youngest two sisters is 2 and a half.”

”What? Please tell me you have pics.“

”Of course I do. She’s the sweetest. I think mom said she’d bring her around for me to babysit this weekend. You’re welcome to stay if you want.“ I smiled, put my car keys on the counter in the hallway and we continued walking towards the kitchen.

”Are you sure?“ Keiki‘s answer was hesitant as if she didn’t want to intrude but she couldn’t be further from the truth, she was always welcome at my place.

”Yeah. She’ll love you.“

Keiki smiled.

”Then I’d love to. It would be good practice for when I’m babysitting Kehlani and Alaia, my brother and his fiancée's twins.“

Koa gave me a thumbs-up.

”Why don’t I make us some grilled cheese sandwiches?“ I said and got out all the ingredients for some grilled sandwiches.

”Who knew you’re good in the kitchen too?“

”I’m good at many things. Cooking included.“ I winked at her.

”So the whole package?“ She made herself comfortable in one of the kitchen chairs.

”Let’s go with that.“

Keiki grinned and took off her shoes to get into a better seating position.

”I don’t suppose you have some Tabasco sauce?“

”As a matter of fact I do. Keanu loves that stuff so I always keep it on hand.“

I got out the small glass bottle. I don’t fancy it but Keanu loved it and so does Keiki apparently. I got the grilled sandwich done and served them on colorful plates chosen by my niece Dalia.

”Your bromance with Keanu is so sweet.“

”Yeah. Yeah. Eat your grilled cheese sandwich.“ I rolled my eyes.

Keiki stuck out her tongue at me. Before she could react I grabbed her chin and planted a kiss on her lips.

She dropped her sandwich on her plate to pull me closer to her.

A loud clearing of a throat interrupted our momentary bliss.

Keanu stood in the doorway, an exhausted gaze in his eyes. I offered him a piece of sandwich but he shook his head.

”Didn’t mean to interrupt your smooch fest…but…uhh…you said I could crash at your place for a while.“

I scratched my head.

”I suppose I did say that. The room upstairs is all yours.“ I sensed there was more Keanu wanted to say but he didn’t want to mention any of that in front of Keiki, which was totally understood. I nodded at him and he understood. We’d talk more later in the morning when we got up.

”Thanks man. Nice to see you again Keiki.“

Keiki who was blushing smiled.

”It’s nice to see you again too, Keanu.“

”If you guys don’t mind I’ll go crash for the night.“

”Yeah. You alright, Kee?“ I just couldn’t resist asking him.

I heard a chair scrape softly over the floor as Keiki got up.

”I’ll…uhh…go use the bathroom. It was nice to see you again, Keanu.“ She gave him a hug which he returned. She then went to the bathroom, which made me realize she has no idea where the bathroom is, but I appreciate that she wanted me and Keanu to have some time to talk.

Without saying anything I hand him a glass of apple juice and my grilled cheese sandwich.

”Talk to me, Kee. Who’s wrong?“ I asked him, giving him my full attention.

He sighed and took a sip of apple juice. His silver rings with a black gemstone glinted on his forefinger.

”I can’t stand those people at the frat anymore. I just can’t Ko.“ He said and he almost broke down.

”What did they do this time?“ I asked with a calmness I didn’t really feel. His frat mates are douchebags. But since he was a freshman he had to stay on campus and couldn’t live outside of campus but he’s almost finished with his degree. He’s in third year. He could live outside of campus if he wanted.

”You know who you remind me of right now? That guy from those books everyone on TikTok is raving about.“

”If you say Aaron Warner I’m going to kick you.“ I said with a warning. It’s true we looked similar but one is a fictional character and it felt fucking weird to be compared to a fictional character from a book.

Keanu grinned and took another a bite of grilled cheese.

”I don’t know, the energy shifted at the frat house. I saw Collin do drugs on the counter one morning. Like what the fuck dude? I know your dad is rich and pays for your college tuition but still! So I started looking for off campus living arrangements. Because honestly Ko I don’t want to live with those guys anymore.“ He said and I could tell all this was wearing him down.

I knew his father‘s history with alcohol abuse. His fathers path with sobriety was a hard one. That’s one of the reasons why Keanu doesn’t drink.

”You can stay with me. As long as you want. I’ve said so many times. Pack your stuff man and move in. I’ll even help you move your things. Even if we have to make the trip a couple of times. I’m here for you Kee. You’re not alone and you never were.“ I said and meant it.

He looked down and wiped at his eyes.

”I’ll fill out the paperwork tomorrow.“ He said, finished his grilled sandwich and when he’s about to put it in the sink I stop him.

”I’ve got it. Just go and get some rest.“

”You turned into a real housewife Ko.“ Keanu laughed.

”Bite me Hale.“

Keanu fully laughed and I knew things were getting better, they weren’t perfect but they were getting there.

After Keanu left, I let my head fall onto the granite countertop just taking a long and quiet breath of fresh air.

Keiki

I reentered the kitchen after I heard Keanu headed back upstairs. I found the bathroom after I looked around for a while.

Once I was out of the bathroom I headed towards the kitchen, where I saw Koa who hung his head. I wondered what happened? Trying to figure out how to help, I came to stand next to him, and moved my hand through his dark blond strands mixed in with lighter strands, from the exposure of sunlight.

”I offered him to stay at my place.“ Were his first words into the silence.

”That sounds like a good idea. He shouldn’t be alone if he’s going through a tough time, and besides I like Keanu. He seems like a good guy.“

He smiled at me and his eyes lit up.

”I don’t know about Ko, but I’m wiped out. Do you want to show me where I'll be sleeping?“

He smiled and after putting the dishware into the dishwasher he led me upstairs.

”Just fyi, I didn’t bring any sleep shirts or anything, not really thinking I’d end up at your place tonight…err…this morning.“ I said after entering the room.

”That’s alright I can lend you one of my shirts. You can also have my bed.“ He said and opened a drawer. While he rifled through the drawer until he found what he was looking for.

He handed me a bright orange shirt, with sea coral facts on it.

I gulped. Koa's bed? Where he sleeps every night? Surrounded by his scent lingering in the sheets? I won’t be able to sleep even if I tried.

Koa continued.

”And I‘ll take the couch.“

That made me feel even worse. Koa was tall and that tiny couch won’t fit him, he’ll be uncomfortable all night. That wouldn’t be fair.

”We could share your bed.“

Koa blinked at me.

”Are you sure that would be okay?“

”Yes I am sure. It’s not so bad, your bed is big enough to fit two, we'll be fine.“

Koa looked at me and when he saw I was serious he nodded.

”I’ll load the rest of the dishes into the dishwasher and then we can go to bed.“

”Okay. Need any help?“ I offered but he shook his head.

”Hey Koa?“ I called after he was almost out the door.

”Yeah?“ He looked back and I just went to him and kissed him quickly.

After I broke off the kiss I touched his bottom lip with the pad of my thumb.

”Thanks for tonight. Also for being an amazing friend to Keanu. He seems like he has a lot on his mind, it’s nice to know he’s got a friend like you.“

He left the room with a smile.

Keiki

I lied down and got comfortable when I heard Koa come in. I didn’t want to turn off his bedside lamp, because I don’t like the dark.

His bedroom overlooked the ocean from one side. He pulled down the blinds a bit but left the window wide open. Letting in a soft breeze.

”I hope you’re not a blanket hogger.“ I mumbled, eyes still closed.

”I’m a blanket sharer.“ He chuckled.

I heard fabric rustle and opened my eyes. He stood there in nothing but some turquoise satin boxers.

“Where’s the rest?“

He stared at my blandly.

”The rest of what? The house? I can give you a tour in the morning if you want.“

”I meant where’s the rest of your clothes! Or did they disappear?“ I pointed to his appearance.

”Well to be honest. I don’t wear anything when I sleep, but I put some clothes on for you.“

”Could you put on a shirt?“ I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. All that golden skin kissed by the sun was on full display.

”Why? Look, I get super hot during the night and if I wore a shirt I’d discard it during the night.“

”Fine.“ I muttered.

”Unless my body is distracting you from sleeping?“ He teased.

”Keep dreaming.“

He chuckled and it sounded hoarse. He turned off the light and I instantly moved closer to him, pulling the light covers closer to me. Not wanting to admit I’m scared of the dark.

When I laid my head on the pillow I was surrounded by Koa‘s scent of fresh ocean waves and citrus. Not just because he’s lying next to me, but because he’s sleeping in these sheets every night.

”This is stupid.“ I heard him say.

”What?“ I muttered.

He turned to me and pulled me close.

”It should be okay for us to sleep in the same bed without it being weird. It’s also okay to feel scared of the dark.“

”How did you…?“ I stuttered.

”I’m sometimes scared of the dark too. It’s okay Kei, you're safe with me.“

I smiled and leaned more into him, and instantly felt more comfortable.

”You’re right, it shouldn’t be weird.“ I said being close to him seemingly lulled me to sleep.

He laughed silently.

”Good night my little prince.“

”Good night Wildflower.“

We both fell asleep nestled together.

Keiki

It must have been pretty early in the morning when I woke up, because when I looked around I saw a digital alarm clock saying it’s 7 in the morning and noticed my pillow was moving.

When I blinked my eyes open, I realized I was sprawled all over Koa and he didn’t even care. When I tried to move, an arm held me firmly in place.

”Five more minutes. Please.“

I grinned as a devilish plan took hold. I placed soft kisses on top of his bare chest. Noticing some thin white scars. What the heck happened, was he in an accident? But before I could voice my question Koa peaked one sea green eye opened.

”Not the wake up call I imagined but I’ll take it. What are you up to Kei?“

”How about we just skip classes today? And stay here?“ I said as I placed another soft kiss on his chest.

”So what you’re suggesting is we should just what? Cut classes? Today is lab day. I have to be there.“

”Can’t you do it from home? Come on live a little Ko.“ I said before I lifted my head to steal a kiss.

I could feel him smile against my lips, before he broke it off.

”You’re playing a dangerous game Wildflower.“

I laughed as I got up, but not before he had me pinned beneath him. Making both of us laugh uncontrollably.

As he traced his fingertips across my face and then my lips, I got shivers all over my body. That such a small gesture could mean so much.

”What are you doing to me Kei-Kei?“

”Hopefully naughty things? And good things?“

”Hmm. Looks like we’re studying from home today.“ He said and wanted to get up but not before I stole another kiss.

”I wish we could wake up like this everyday.“ I said wistfully.

I love living with my brother because I get to see my nieces every day, but I’d want to live with Koa. It’s peaceful and a nice place to live. Also the view is nice. Who doesn’t like to wake up next to a hot guy? I sure do!

”You stole the words right out of my mouth, Wildflower. Come on, I’ll make us some breakfast.“

I nodded as Koa got up. I saw a bit of orange peeking out when his boxers rode up higher. Is that a tattoo I see?

”I can feel you staring.“

”Good. I wouldn’t want you to feel neglected.“ I said as I leaned back and enjoyed the show. He took a pillow and threw it at me, but I caught it before it could hit my face.

”Nice try. But let me at least help you make breakfast.“

”Nah it’s all good. You’re my guest so just lay back and relax. I’ll holler once it’s done.“

”Are you sure?“ I asked as I pulled my knees towards me and sat up in bed.

He smiled and nodded and then he went downstairs to make breakfast.

It felt strange to wake up in another bed. Not bad, just different. I couldn’t resist taking a look around his bedroom.

With his dark blue bed sheets, the pictures on the wall of dives he took. All sorts of corals were on his dresser and on his cupboard.

I got up and I knew I shouldn’t but I was too nosy. So I took a look around. As I walked by his cupboard I noticed a wooden frame adorned with seashells. It was family picture. With Koa, his parents and all of his five siblings.

They all smiled and looked so carefree. I liked seeing Koa smile. It looked good on him.

Then I saw a book and when I opened it, lots of drawings of all sorts of marine life but especially corals stared back at me. With all kinds of facts and descriptions lining the pages.

This must be his work for his studies. I carefully laid it back where I found it.

Too restless to stay in his bed any longer, I went into the adjoining bathroom with its white and light green tiles, a shower, and a small cabinet that I shamelessly opened and inspected.

Some black cologne that I opened and sniffed. It smelled like Koa. Mint and something fresh like citrus. Or like an orange blossom? Hard to tell.

Some medicine. Hair products. Condoms. Not going to look at that any closer.

I closed the cabinet and decided it’s been long enough for Koa to finish breakfast.

As I slowly got downstairs I heard two voices. One was Koa's and the other one belonged to his best friend Keanu.

I hugged the walls but they were too far into their conversation to notice me.

“Then, if you don’t mind, once this is over I’d love to go back to Undermount with you.”

“Nothing would bring me greater joy than to come back home with you, my love.”

Benumbed, Tyril observed the bloody droplets’ road down the sandy stone wall of his chamber in the Whitetower palace. The pulsating pain in his left hand indicated, at best, a split knuckle, yet it could not amount to the agonising pain in his heart. It had been three months since Reyna was captured, and they made almost no progress in coming up with a plan to rescue her. Despite the countless hours spent in the realm’s biggest, most abundant library, despite desperately begging the most prominent magic wielders to open a portal to the Shadow realm, they made no progress. It was time to head home.

“Hey, don’t be a stranger, okay? We’ll keep digging as well,” Mal patted the elf on the arm as he mounted his drake. Tyril nodded almost imperceptibly. 

Nia gave his healthy hand a faint squeeze. Noticing her worried gaze, he squeezed back. The Priestess could not forget the agonised wail he let out one night, the same one she heard deep in the elven catacombs when they learned the truth about Kaya’s fate. Hearing the heartbreak in her usually composed friend’s voice broke her already strained heart. “Please take care of yourself, Tyril.”

“Reyna’s a mighty fighter, elf. We’ll find a way to get her back,” Imtura comforted, but even she could hear the lack of conviction in her voice.

“That’s assuming she’s still alive,” he muttered and before anyone could scold him, added: “Keep pushing Aerin. Resort to violence if necessary.”

The orc nodded and after a brief goodbye, Tyril gave the command and the drake took to the skies.

Upon arrival at the Starfury Manor, he requested for a guest room to be prepared and headed for the library, where he spent the following days. Combing through several books a day, the elf paid little attention to the food his family provided, the need for sleep or any of his representative responsibilities. It was not until a week later that he returned to the manor for the night, steering clear from his bedchamber, the one in which he spent a night with Reyna. 

The blue tint of the night sky and loud hoots of the native red-feathered Undermount owl indicated a late night hour. Despite the exhaustion, he found the strength to scribble a short journal entry.

Day 126 

Another fruitless night at the library. No news from Whitetower. Reyna would scold me for losing hope, but how am I supposed to believe there is a way when we haven't even stumbled upon anything helpful? What if there is no way?

According to Nia, Prince Aerin still refuses to cooperate. Or perhaps even he doesn't know how to help. I suppose he wouldn't withhold such knowledge, knowing it is Reyna who needs help.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The information of Reyna's abduction resounded in every town, giving way to a wave of terror at the possibility of the dangerous enemies returning. Grateful nods and welcomes turned into pained looks of worry and compassion, forcing Tyril to hole up in the library where nobody bothered him. 

The notion of people pitying him implied an impasse, and Tyril was far from giving up. He was convinced that there was a way to open a portal, and he just had to find the right book. 

He rubbed his eyes, allowing a few tears of exhaustion to roll down his pale cheeks. 

That night, led by the ghost of melancholy, Tyril made his way to his chamber. 

Lying on his side, Tyril closed his eyes and his hand instinctively reached for her, only to be welcomed by a cold emptiness. 

Convinced he could still smell her flowery lotion on the pillow, the elf hugged the fabric to his chest, his thumb involuntarily stroking the material as if he was holding Reyna. 

"Please, hold on for a little longer, Reyna," he whispered, lulled to sleep by the soothing owl song. That night, just as every other night, he dreamt of Reyna; however, this time it was not a nightmare.

"Unless you fancy an ugly scar, stop wiggling for a moment," Reyna scolded, patting the wound on his neck with an alcohol soaked gauze. Tyril clenched his teeth and endured the medical care in silence. Once the wound was cleaned and bandaged, Reyna pressed her lips to his warm and slightly damp temple while Tyril, finally allowing himself a moment of respite, rested his head on her chest. His eyelids closed instantly as he felt safe in her embrace. 

Dragging his own feet, Tyril made his way through the city’s market district, ignoring the delicious smells of honey cakes and cheerful shouts of children dancing to a visiting bard’s song, a tale of Morella’s brigand of heroes. 

As he took a seat by a humble pond in the heart of a communal garden, the image of his beloved slipped into his mind, bringing about the memory of Reyna comforting him after Kaya’s funeral. A low, pathetic chuckle, resembling a shy sob, escaped his throat. Was losing the people dearest to his heart the price for saving so many lives? Had he not paid enough already?

The days and nights became a blur. Had he not kept a track of days in his journal, he would not have the faintest idea how long she’d been gone. Journaling was to be a way to keep his thoughts organised, but it did not stand the test of time. His daily scribbles rather quickly turned into letters to Reyna, letters he could not send. 

Encouraged by Adrina who could not bear to watch the limitless sorrow of her beloved brother, Tyril decided to return to his roots, a traditional meditation known as Erinza, typically a fifteen-minute conversation with the Gods which he had abandoned whilst on his quest. Now, as if both to atone and to beg them for help, he meditated for an hour three times a day.

As much as they could, the Starfurys helped to comb the library shelves, partially to help bring Reyna back, and partially to keep an eye on Tyril, making sure he ate and took naps. The dark circles under his eyes, matted hair conveniently gathered in a messy bun and unhealing wounds on his knuckles indicated that not only was he not taking care of himself but also that his nerves started to wear thin.

My dearest Reyna,

today marks the 250th day of your absence. I’m ashamed to admit that, realistically, there is nothing we can do for you. The last dove from Whitetower arrived this morning, saying that our friends had to resume their responsibilities, leaving just me and your brother searching the libraries. Imtura promised to check the plundered scrolls in Flotilla. Perhaps the orcs will have more luck. I certainly hope so.

I fear the Gods have forsaken me, Reyna. Despite my desperate pleas, there is no sign of anyone listening. 

Tyril sighed and scored the last sentence out of the entry. He was embittered, yes, but he knew better than to treat the Gods as djinns who would make his wishes come true. 

Throughout the day he struggled to keep his anger at bay, the sense of injustice, guilt, and punishment desperately clang to him while at night his dreams were plagued by the horrific possibilities of the abductors' tortures, thus despite catching a few hours of sleep, he'd wake up even more exhausted than before. The shadows took everything from him. When he almost gave his life trying to rid the world of danger, restore his House’s reputation, and give his beloved friend a proper closure, the darkness still found a way to destroy him. 

Whenever he felt the anger and urge for vengeance, he remembered the person he became thanks to Reyna. Before they met, his quest consumed him, sheer fury permeated every cut of his sword, and every conversation he held with the innocent residents. Reyna showed him a different path, a path that was kind but just, filled with love and compassion. As the walking testament to the incredible person she was, Tyril aspired to encompass what she taught him. To honour her memory.

Day 360. I fear that had there been a way to enter the Shadow Realm, we would have found it a long time ago. It’s time to look realistically at this situation. I have once again lost the one closest to my heart and I can’t shake the persistent thought that had I been faster, more decisive, she would now lie next to me. 

He failed. It was time to admit defeat. He failed Kaya, and then he failed Reyna. 

Once the hope for finding a way to rescue his beloved dwindled, almost exactly a year later, Tyril contended it was high time he returned to the family and social life. On a warm June night, he represented his House at a wedding of one of the House Ascendant heirs. Watching the elven pairs effortlessly sail through the floor, Tyril remembered last year’s masquerade—remembered how despite the looming danger of the Shadow Court he managed to dance with Reyna, how quickly he always forgot about the surrounding world whenever she was in his arms, and how incredible it felt to hold her so close. For a split second, he could even see their ghosts dance again, and he felt a familiar stinging in his eyes. Sipping on his honey wine, he pondered praying to the human gods, but he was shaken out of his thoughts by a warm hand on his shoulder.

Adrina was looking at him with a warm smile. "May I have this dance, Lord Starfury?"

Tyril nodded absent-mindedly. As he led his sister across the floor, navigating amongst the cheerful elves, he imagined he was holding Reyna in his arms. Alas, Adrina's tall stature painfully reminded him of the harsh truth.