Page 131 of Hawthorne

“Vincent,” Edgar says at the same time.

Ugh, sometimes I forget how annoying he can be.

“Never mind,” I tell Harry.

“And you,” I hiss, pulling Edgar’s arm down, forcing him to sit back on the chair. “Shut up,” I growl to Edgar.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” He bows dramatically before settling back on his puffy leather chair.

Harry looks at me with a concerned expression, but I ignore it.

“Your Highness–”

“Just call me Camilla, for god’s sake,” I grit, annoyed.

“Is it wise that the duke’s brother knows your lineage? He might tell since you’re his brother’s, uhm…competition. That would take the title of duke from him, from taking his brother off from being first in line, and–”

“Tsk tsk,” Edgar cuts in. “Very rude of you to think all I care about is some shitty title. I won’t tell anyone.”

Rolling my eyes, I ignore his remark and focus back on the lawyer in front of both of us. “Send word to the palace. I want an urgent meeting with the king. If they refuse, we’ll set the motion directly through court. That should do the trick.”

Harry nods, commenting that it should allow us to be received early in the morning, due to the king’s delicate health condition. The faster, the better.

And before letting him start to get to work, I add, “Don’t forget his NDA. From now on, I want to be sure I can trust the people around me.”

“Ay, Captain.” Edgar salutes with his hand on his forehead while Harry nods and dives into his paperwork and phone for the emails and calls he needs to do.

We both watch him work in silence, waiting for time to pass...A sense of dread settles in my bones, letting me know that things will not get easier and that, in fact...it’s just getting started.

40

Camilla White

“Is this okay?” I ask Harry for the thousandth time.

“More than okay, Your–”

“Harry,” I hiss, cutting him off. “My name is Camilla. The king’s still alive."

“Not for long,” he hums.

It has been half an hour since we arrived at Livian Palace. The king wished to spend his last days away from Livia, it seems, but he wasn’t able to leave the palace before falling extremely ill.

No one knows what he has for certain, and it seems we won’t know anytime soon since his staff is extremely loyal to him.

After Harry worked his magic through the night, it only took the king—or whoever he told—an hour and a half to answer and request my presence as soon as possible. Upon our arrival, it felt like whispers were following our steps through every division as one of the servants led us through the labyrinthic compound.

This is one hell of an estate.

We have been left to wait in an overly-decorated division. It has the lower half of the walls covered in a wooden layerholding many portraits of nobility, high-ranking generals from the nineteenth century, and some members of the royal family. As well as some of Monera’s past kings and queens.

From those, I can only recognise our first and founding queen with her British husband and Joseph’s father…my grandfather.

At the centre lies one giant wooden table surrounded by red silk-upholstered chairs. The wealth in these divisions is crazy and mind-blowing. So many people out there are struggling to make a days’ worth, and here they are, basking in luxurious second, third, and fourth houses just because they can.

Not to mention the floor, covered in this colossal rug that Harry has mentioned to be one of the castle’s most famous items for being woven by inmates of Agra Prison in India in 1992. It is, apparently, the largest seamless carpet and weighs two tonnes.

This is ridiculous. Did those men even get paid for their work? Were there even working conditions in such a prison?

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