Chapter 28

As Harry wandered into the garden, he couldn’t help but wonder how he’d fallen into her charm once again, or even worse, how she’d managed to break through the blockage.

No one, not even the king had ever accomplished it. But with Amelia…she was a case he was willing to study for the rest of his life.

“Your highness,” Harry cocked his head; he recognized the man. He was one of the council members.

“Councilor Fredon,” he muttered chirpily, “is everything alright?”

The old man bowed his head, clinging his right hand on his garment. “Your majesty, it’s that…the king…The king still breathes and he’s on his way to recovery.”

The man fidgeted. “Oh…I see,” he said, “he shall get through this.”

With that, he zoomed off. Harry could see past his words—the façade. He already knew the enemies in the palace, their hidden agenda, except he didn’t know what move to take next. The king was still in pretense, and Harry wanted to act all by himself.

Was it to prove something? He didn’t know.

When he finally arrived at his destination, his stomach rose in a whole new different way; Amelia was backing him, and as though she’d felt his presence, or perhaps, smelt his presence.

Her scent burst the whole area, and he could feel his heart flaming, different waves passing through his spine. The idea of a mate was so overwhelming.

She swirled, his eyes getting locked with her grey pair.

The hidden part of the garden had become their secret place.

His gaze fixed on her, he moved closer to her figure.

For a moment, Amelia stood silent, and Harry just watched, waiting.

“I’m sorry for what happened between us,” she finally found her voice and the side of his lips found a grin.

“I should be thanking you; you saved my life,” he said sarcastically.

The expression on her face almost triggered a laugh.

She took a quick breath, “I know what you’re trying to do, and I won’t fall for it.”

Harry barked out a laugh; he was still so vexed. But with the way she was looking that night, he wasn’t certain how to act around her.

“I’m not trying to do whatever you might be thinking,” he simply said, not caring if she was buying it or not.

“You’re acting like a stubborn woman…a stubborn immature woman,” she hissed, her right hand planted on her hip.

“I’m not acting,” Harry paused and gazed at her intently, “you just made a stereotypical statement.”

He watched as her expression changed to something that seemed like a scowl.

“Women are stubborn,” she replied smugly. “I wasn’t stereotyping.”

Harry chortled, truly, he’d missed their petty and silly arguments.

“Stop acting all righteous,” she craned her neck, looking more serious this time. “You have been with a lot of women. Why are you acting so hurt, it was just—"

“That was before I met you.”

Amelia stood frozen, lost for words, maybe.

What was she thinking this time?

“I do care for you…a lot,” she revealed, moving towards him, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

This time he was the one freezing.

“But I need you—now more than ever, I need you on my side.”

But it wasn’t love, maybe he wasn’t worthy of her love.

“There’s something amiss about her, I can feel something.” His wolf alerted him.

Suddenly, he heard a faint sob.

“My friend’s body was found in the woods…” she began, “I…I revealed the passage to her, she wanted to elope with her lover. But she was murdered…”

That explained it. He’d never seen her that way. So chattered, so broken….so lost.

He pulled in for a hug, sharing her hurt, feeling her grief.

“You’re a strong woman,” he said, feeling the gust of wind that’d enveloped the whole area, “you shall get through this.” He tightened his embrace.

“Which is why I need you to be honest with me,” she pulled out, “I need to get justice, and you have to be honest with me.”

He paused, contemplating on revealing the threat. He didn’t want to put her life at risk, not with what she was going through.

“Why the sudden engagement?” She questioned, “I saw you chatting with the duke, I thought he was the enemy?”

She gazed at him, eyes out, waiting for his response. Harry staggered, really contemplating on what to do.

He could really do well with a partner, and what better one than the bravest woman he knew.

“He’s threatening me…” he trailed off, and Amelia wore an expression labeled with, ‘I knew it’. “He threatens me with a gun, and if I do all he says, the people’s life shall be safe.”

Amelia heaved out a breath, “I knew something was amiss!” she exclaimed as she tapped her finger against her skin. “Why does he want you to wed Francesca?”

He’d tried to understand the reason. He’d assumed the duke wanted him to wed for a criterion to ascend the throne.

“I don’t know,” he countered.

Amelia fell silent, pacing around, and Harry gazed up at the dark clouds; the stars were many that night.

Suddenly, Amelia paused, as though something was cooking in her mind, as though she was contemplating something.

Then she said, “I have this theory, but I reckon it’s crazy.”

Harry chuckled, “I can handle crazy.”

She gazed at him and sighed, “her mother, Maria Flyer. Have you noticed any form of closeness between herself and the duke?”

Harry raised a brow, “I believe so, I have seen them whispering and lurking a few times.”

Amelia widened her eyes, “this woman—Maria Flyer, she told me the country was going to face a new revolution. What if…” Amelia wavered, “no, this is crazy,” she clamped her hand on her head.

Harry gazed at her intently, striding to her front, “you’ve revealed a lot of crazy things to me—most of which always end up right,” he smiled, “If there's smoke, then a fire is close.”

“So, what are you suggesting we do?” She eyed him, her eyes glittering.

The duke was sexist. He looked down on the female species—and now, a woman was his possible partner.

The irony.

Amelia was now gazing up, he followed her trail, connecting with a shining star.

It was brighter than the others.

He moved behind her, placing his coat over her shoulders and wrapping his hands around her.

She shuddered but didn’t complain.

It was a special night.