Alexander was flipping through a pile of endless documents when Lord Markus, his trusted aide, entered.
“Your Highness,” he greeted with a bow.
He raised a finger in acknowledgement, still reading through a report on the newest tax revision his father wanted to discuss.
“I have news from —”
He perked up, dropping the papers. “The bookstore?” he asked, trying to quell his burning curiosity.
“No, I’m afraid not,” he smiled uneasily.
Dropping back down against his chair, he laughed at himself. He needed to stop waiting, or hoping, for any news from Ani. “What is it then?”
“It’s actually from Princess Amelia. She has sent word that Princess Helene seems to be unwell and is currently residing in her quarters.”
His forehead creased. “Unwell? Is it severe?”
“It seemed to be of shock or fatigue. We’re not sure, but it shouldn’t be too serious. Her Highness simply wished to let you know.”
It had been days since he had last seen her, and he didn’t like the idea of her falling ill. “Markus, would it be unreasonable for me to check in on her?”
“Not at all, Your Highness. You are her betrothed after all.”
“Yes, you’re right,” he said, jumping up. “Do you think I look presentable enough?” he asked, touching the fading bruises that still felt tender. He had been holed up in his room all this time, despite his protests. With too many people against him, he couldn’t refuse taking the time to heal from the numerous injuries he had accumulated. Amelia was positively livid, Edward was on the brink of truly falling into madness after the stunt he pulled disappearing like that, and even Smyth, the man who never raised his voice, was very adamant about scolding him for his stupidity. So although he felt terrible about it, he had stepped back from his duties and from the Princess.
Markus inspected his face that was once too swollen and cut to not draw questions. “It seems to have healed properly. I believe the Princess will not mind it.”
“Good. Let’s go then.”
Lying still under the blankets and with a cloth draped over her forehead, Princess Helene dozed as Alexander entered the room.
Amelia sat up in her chair, raising a brow at her brother. “Oh my. I didn’t actually expect you to come.”
He narrowed his eyes, lifting a finger to his lips to hush her. He didn’t want to wake the Princess. Coming to seat himself by the chaise on the opposite side of the bed, he looked down in concern at Helene’s pale face. She was asleep, but her slumber seemed far from restful. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she twitched every now and then, as if her dreams disturbed her.
“Markus told me she was unwell. How long has she been here?” he softly asked.
“I found her running through the halls. She was troubled and frantic. I brought here here and she just fell asleep.”
“You don’t know what’s wrong?”
“No. I think there was a commotion in her sister’s room, but the family seems to be keeping it unknown for now. I don’t know if it has anything to do with her ailment,” she replied.
“I see.” Alexander reached out, placing a finger gently between Princess Helene's eyes. Easing slightly, she looked more peaceful.
“You care for her,” he heard Amelia smirk.
Casually leaning away and crossing his arms, he flicked a glance back at his sister. “Of course I do. She’ll be my wife.”
“No, no,” she shook her head. “It’s more than that. You’re hoping.”
“Hoping for what?”
“For more.”
He considered her words. Yes, he was hopeful for a chance that their marriage would extend beyond a simple, resented arrangement. He was concerned for her, protective, and curious. No doubt, Princess Helene was a beautiful, strong woman he would benefit to have by his side. It’s as Edward said to him — maybe they could be good for each other. Maybe waiting for her defenses to fade would be worth it. But, lately, he found his mind warring with himself.
Perhaps it was the struggle of grappling with two different identities, but his thoughts were split between the Princess and…Ani. Just like his efforts were divided as the Prince and Rafe, so were his curiosities. And now they were merging. It was confusing and sometimes it even inspired guilt. They had no set loyalties to each other, but Alexander wanted to uphold his vows when they became man and wife, and a part of those vows included being faithful and committed. He wanted that with the Princess.
So did he want more? Yes, maybe he did. It would fascinate him to be able to see affection in his betrothed’s eyes rather than deflection. He could certainly see himself looking at her differently.
But why couldn’t he get Ani out of his head?
“Alex?” Amelia pushed. “Is your non answer an answer in itself?”
Before he could reply, Helene jolted awake.
He straightened, wanting to reach out to her, but holding back when he saw her disorientation. She sat up abruptly, cradling her knees and rocking herself while tears seeped out of her clenched eyes. Alexander wanted to move, but he couldn’t, the sight hurting his chest. What was it that made her suffer so?
He watched as Amelia came to her side and attempted to comfort her.
He didn’t know why, but seeing tears from someone as concealed as Princess Helene was unbearable. Just what exactly was she hiding behind those sorrowful, steeled eyes? What darkness was she dealing with all alone? He wanted to take it from her. Ease it away.
Would she let him?
He wanted to try.
Climbing up into the bed beside her, he took his betrothed from his sister’s embrace and brought her into his own. She blindly came to him, sniffling into his chest as his hand rubbed soothing circles on her back. He felt Amelia watching them for a while, before leaving her own room to give them a moment alone.
I’m here. You’re safe. Don’t cry.
The words he was thinking soon came out in gentle syllables, most likely escaping her ears but settling her shaking breaths. When she grew quiet, he laid back on the pillows, letting her rest her head on his chest as he held her tight.
She was so small against him as he wrapped himself around her. Falling back into what he hoped was a dreamless slumber, she snuggled against his body as he tightened his arms. His heart beats accelerated. The way she felt in his arms was a comfort and thrill he hadn’t expected. He didn’t want to let go, not for a long time.
What is this feeling, Helene? Why do you confuse me as well?
Helene awoke.
Somehow feeling more settled and warm, she sat up in the bed. She was alone in the room, but she thought someone held her through the night. Someone spoke words of comfort into her ears and held her tight when the shadow dreams threatened to invade her mind again. The strength of their arms were a defense and a fortress, and the craze and panic that had overwhelmed her before were now gone.
Did she dream that as well?
Helene clutched her head. She needed to get herself together. The birds chirped outside, telling her it was a new day. She had no idea if Morgan made it through the night or if her father was unharmed. Did she even want to know?
Gathering herself, she saw that it wasn’t her own room she was in. She distantly recalled running into Princess Amelia and was grateful for her kindness, but morbid humiliation won out those emotions. She must have looked absolutely deranged. She was wincing at her own behavior when the Princess came in through the door.
“Helene! How are you feeling now?” she exclaimed, rushing over to her side.
“Your Highness, please accept my apologies. I don’t know what overcame me —”
“How are you feeling?” she repeated, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“I’m feeling well, thank you.”
“Good,” she smiled. “I believe your father was looking for you. Would you like me to take you to him?”
Helene shook her head. She needed to face him alone.
As she gratefully dismissed herself from the Princess’s quarters, she accepted help from one of her ladies who directed her towards the room her father was staying in. When she arrived, she thanked the woman, took a breath, and knocked on the door.
No answer came from within.
He could have been absent and set to return later, but a terrible feeling hovered over the space. Turning the knob, she entered. The room was dark and cold as she slowly walked through the threshold.
Nearby, she saw the back of her father settled on a divan by the extinguished fire of a furnace.
Her hairs standing up at her nape, she steadily approached him. “Your Majesty?”
He didn’t answer. Breathing hard, she walked around until his face came into view. Helene cupped her mouth in horror.
Bones, blood, tears, stains. The sickness came for him as well.
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