Page 162 of Hawthorne

“This can’t be easy. She is still your–”

“It isn’t, but I’ll manage,” I snap, turning my back to her.

“I just want you to know that if you need–”

“No, thank you.” My voice comes out harsh and final. “Not seeing each other again would be ideal. All that I need really, but I know that’s unlikely. Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your way as much as I can.”

Her mouth closes tightly, looking away. Still, her posture doesn’t change. Squared shoulders and poker face. The Camilla I fell in love with is long gone, but I can’t blame her for it. It’s my own doing.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t destroy me all the same.

“Brother,” Edgar calls from the door, a confused look jumping between Camilla and me. “You alright?”

“Perfect,” I snark.

“Sir,” the girl calls sheepishly. “Your bag is ready.”

“Great,” I answer, walking up to her. “I’ll take it from here.”

“What–” Edgar is cut off by my hand, pulling harshly at his arm when I reach him.

“Let’s go, brother,” I mutter. “I need to go backhome. I’m done living in hell.”

49

Camilla of Severna

Every single day since he walked out of this place, I regret not telling him everything that I wanted to say. On that day, I finally understood how much he was hurting and how much extra suffering I was giving him.

Just like me, his family betrayed him—except for Edgar—and I ignored that reality, too focused on my pain.

Still, he found the maturity not to blame me, while I was also guilty of a lot. I also lied—or omitted. He never knew of my lineage until it became public. And from how he said things went down with his mother, if I had said something to him earlier, maybe...all this mess wouldn’t have happened.

But I had to be too proud to give him a second chance. I let it sink like a lead balloon and did nothing about it. Now, I have lost him for good.

“You two stubborn airheads,” Edgar grumbles across from my desk, his left ankle placed on top of his right knee.

Idiot. My mouth opens to curse him, only to be cut off by three knocks on my office door.

“Come in,” I order, still glaring at my annoying friend.

Primrose’s head, who was lying on the couch beside us, rises, curious to see who is entering the division. Her tail wags when she recognises the person by the door.

“Your Majesty,” Joshua greets, bowing from the doorway. “Everyone’s wondering when will you be joining the ball?”

Ugh, of course.

After all these months, it still doesn’t get any easier, especially since I loathe these kinds of events. What good is it to be queen if my power is so limited?

“We’ll be right out,” Edgar singsongs to Joshua, who just thins his lips disapprovingly.

He has never been fond of my alone time with Edgar Hawthorne and has often advised me not to fall in love with him. I always laugh because how could I? He’s like a brother. A romantic relationship with him just gives me the ick.

“Why do I have to do this again?” I whine. “From what I understand, these were no longer organised.”

“Exactly, but that is because the previous rulers often accepted the offers on the table for them.” His matter-of-fact tone makes me want to punch him in the face, but I can’t now. I need to be classy. “You brought this upon yourself.”

“It’s only been six months,” I hiss. “You reckon they’d give me more time.”

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