Chapter 66: Taking an Interest

Chapter 66: Taking an Interest
Azarius
I sprinted toward the Luna Queen's Garden, my pulse quickening with every step as the news reached me.
Father was reprimanding Macedonia.
The sight that greeted me froze me in place for a moment. Macedonia knelt on the ground, tears streaming down her face, while Father loomed over her, his voice sharp and unyielding.
"Do you understand the consequences your family could face for this?" he demanded, his gaze cutting toward the crushed flower crown beside her. "How dare you touch those flowers?"
"Y-Your Majesty..." she stammered, her voice trembling under the weight of his words.
A knot tightened in my chest at the sight of her tears. Guilt churned in my stomach as I realized the unintended consequences of my actions. Without hesitation, I rushed forward, planting myself between her and Father, my small frame standing firm.
"Father," I said, meeting his stern gaze with earnest determination. "I made that flower crown for her. If anyone should be reprimanded, it's me." My voice didn't waver, though my heart pounded in my chest. "Why are you scolding her for something I caused?"
"Your Royal Highness..." she sobbed.
I turned at her and immediately helped her to stand up before turning to Father. "Mother wouldn't mind, Father. Can you not let it go?" 
I knew that I shouldn't talk like this to my father who was the Alpha King, but I couldn't bear to see a girl crying when the cause was me. Mother always taught us to be respectful, and I was taking accountability of what happened.
"These are your mother’s flowers, Azarius. Do you think I can simply overlook this?" Father’s tone was sharp, his gaze cutting through me.
I met his steely gaze without flinching, my resolve unshaken. “Mother wouldn’t mind,” I said firmly, each word deliberate. My voice didn’t waver, and I locked eyes with him, silently challenging his authority while keeping my stance respectful.
He narrowed his eyes, his silence a weighty response before his attention shifted to Macedonia. “I’ll see to it that she’s replaced with someone who understands the palace rules.” His words were final, delivered with an air of dismissal as he turned and strode away.
I clenched my fists, frustration and guilt warring within me, but a soft sound caught my attention. It was a quiet sob.
I turned to see Macedonia, her slender frame trembling as she wiped at her tear-streaked face with small, shaking hands.
She nodded weakly, sniffling as she swiped at her cheeks, though the sorrow in her eyes lingered. Her vulnerability struck a chord in me, igniting a pang of regret.
This wasn’t what I had intended. My challenge had been a thoughtless test, a way to gauge her understanding of palace rules. I never expected it to spiral into something that would bring her to Father’s harsh judgment. The weight of my actions pressed heavily on my chest as I realized the unintended consequences of my arrogance.
I knelt in front of her, watching as she wiped at her tear-streaked face with trembling hands. Her sniffles punctuated the tense silence, and guilt twisted inside me like a blade.
"I'm sorry," I said softly, my voice laden with regret. I hadn’t meant for things to escalate like this. "I didn’t think he’d react that way. I never wanted to get you in trouble."
Macedonia shook her head, her gaze fixed on the crushed flower crown beside us. "You don’t need to apologize, Your Royal Highness," she whispered, though her voice wavered. "It’s not your fault."
"It is," I countered firmly. I reached out and picked up the ruined flower crown, cradling it carefully in my hands as if I could somehow mend what had been broken. "I made this. I gave it to you. I should have known better."
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, red-rimmed and glistening. "He... he said he’d replace me," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Does this mean... he's going to punish the House of Stallone, too?"
I hesitated, the weight of her question pressing down on me. Father’s words had been resolute, but I couldn’t let this be the end for her. Something about the way she carried herself, even through her tears, made me feel a need to protect her.
"No," I said with conviction. "He won’t. I’ll talk to Mother. She’ll understand." I rose to my feet and extended a hand to her. "Come on. Let’s fix this."
She stared at my outstretched hand for a moment before tentatively taking it. As I helped her stand, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just about a flower crown anymore. It was about proving that she belonged here, despite what Father thought.
And I’d make sure she stayed.
That was the beginning of our friendship.
It was a moment etched in my memory, the day Macedonia became my royal playmate. It was a decision I’d grow to appreciate more than I could have imagined.
Mother’s discerning eye and impeccable judgment had chosen someone not only fitting for the role but exceptional in every sense.
Macedonia possessed qualities that stood out, even at a young age. She was diligent, her work ethic unwavering even in the face of adversity. Strength radiated from her, not just in resilience but in her spirit, unyielding and steadfast.
That was when I took notice that I had started to admire her from taking an interest and fueled by curiosity. 
Being around Macedonia unearthed something I hadn’t realized about myself. When I was with her, a side of me emerged that I hadn’t shown to anyone else. It was a teasing, playful part that seemed to exist only in her presence.
With others, I remained guarded and tense, every interaction weighed with expectation and duty. But with her, I could let go, even if only a little.
She had become my refuge in ways I couldn’t fully articulate, softening edges I didn’t know I had.
"What do you think of this cabin, Mace?" I asked, a sheepish smile tugging at my lips as I gestured to the quaint hideaway tucked among the pine trees. The sound of a nearby river harmonized with the breeze rustling through the branches. "Isn’t this perfect scapegoat for my duties?"
I watched her as she took it all in, her gaze sweeping over the rustic charm of the cabin and the serene surroundings. It was my secret haven, a gift from Aunt Arabella for my thirteenth birthday.
It was a place she promised to keep hidden from Father. Only my siblings and I knew of its existence.
"This place... it’s peaceful," Macedonia said, her tone thoughtful as her eyes lingered on the shimmering water and the towering pines. "Princess Arabella really outdid herself, Azarius. It suits you."
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. At fifteen, Macedonia had stepped into her role as my assistant with a maturity beyond her years, shaped by the rigorous training she’d endured. Yet here, away from the weight of expectations, there was an ease in her posture that I rarely saw.
Her steampunk dress clung elegantly to her figure, the intricate details of the fabric enhancing the soft glow of her complexion. Loose waves of her hair framed her face, catching the light in a way that made something in my chest tighten. Her eyes sparkled as she turned back to me, and for a fleeting moment, I felt my breath hitch.
Adolescence had only magnified her beauty, and in this quiet, secluded place, it was impossible not to notice.
During those years we had been friends, I had started to call her Mace as her nickname. 
Then, she placed her hands on her hips, arching her eyebrow. "And what do you mean by perfect scapegoat for your duties? Are you trying to get me in trouble for your father when you are slacking off again, Azarius de Carteret?" She squinted her eyes at me.
"Come on," I said, wriggling my eyebrows at her with a playful grin. "At least I’m holding up my promise to amend the inheritance laws for firstborn daughters. You can’t be too mad at me for that."
I knew how much it meant to her. A few years ago, I’d discovered her quiet determination to inherit her father’s noble title and pack.
It was a vision he wholeheartedly supported. Yet, the laws of the Sowinski Kingdom were unyielding, restricting such rights to firstborn sons. It was an injustice that fueled her resolve and one I’d grown determined to change.
Macedonia rolled her eyes, her exasperation clear. "Don’t even try that excuse with me, Azarius," she said, stepping closer. Her eyes widened in mock innocence before a saccharine smile spread across her lips. "If I end up in trouble, I’ll make sure to drag you straight to hell with me. Understand?"
A lump formed in my throat as I swallowed hard at her veiled threat. "I-I was only joking, Mace..." I stammered, forcing a nervous chuckle. Her intensity was enough to make anyone think twice about testing her limits.
Desperate to shift the tone, I softened my expression, pouting slightly as I tried to win her over. "But seriously, Father’s been pushing me harder than ever with his training. Can you really blame me for wanting to escape here?" I fluttered my eyes dramatically, hoping she’d take pity on me.
She studied me for a long moment before letting out a heavy sigh. "Fine," she relented, though her tone carried a warning. "But if you don’t tell me where we’re going next time, I won’t hesitate to snitch on you."
A triumphant grin spread across my face. "I knew you’d come around, darling," I teased, emphasizing the endearment just to get a rise out of her.
As expected, her hand smacked the back of my head with no hesitation. "Ouch! Mace, that hurt!" I exclaimed, rubbing the spot.
"Serves you right," she shot back without a trace of sympathy. "And I don’t care if you’re next in line to the throne."
I suppressed the smile on my lips, but it was futile.
Macedonia never failed to intrigue me, especially when my teasing got under her skin. Her frowns and sharp scoldings had a way of making her even more captivating, and I couldn’t resist provoking her just to see that spark ignite.
I extended my hand toward her, a quiet invitation to explore the cabin together. "Shall we?"
Macedonia’s lips curved into a warm smile as she nodded. "Let’s."
The moment her fingers brushed against mine, an electric current coursed through me, stealing my breath. It was a familiar sensation, one I’d grown accustomed to whenever our hands met, yet it never failed to catch me off guard.
Oh, Macedonia... What were you doing to me?