“Lady Amelia, your brother’s car is ready.” Elara enters quietly, and I nod, straightening my shoulders.
I’m doing this for Phil. For him and for Lizzy.
I take a deep breath and step outside, my legs unsteady. Just five minutes later, I sit beside my brother, who looks displeased.
“You could have put in more effort. What will the king think?” He looks me over disapprovingly, and something inside me breaks. Hot, seething anger courses through my veins, and I can’t hold back my next words.
“He’ll see his son’s grieving friend. He lost his child. How much do you think he’ll care about my appearance?” I snap, only realizing too late, and then my head explodes in pain.
My head jerks from the force of the slap as Henry’s hand hits my cheek. The pain brings tears to my eyes, and my hand flies to my cheek. I glance briefly at Henry. I hate him. Hate myself. He slapped me across the face. Even though we’re about to meet with the king.
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that.” His voice is like icy water making me freeze in place. Tears well up in my eyes, but I force them back. I push back all the emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
Emptiness. All I feel is emptiness.
Pull yourself together.
The dull throbbing in my head sharpens into a piercing pain, but I ignore it. Silently, without looking at my brother, I nod and stare out the window, barely noticing the city or the people outside.
“Amelia… I… I’m sorry…” Henry glances at me sideways, his expression almost pleading. He reaches out, but I shift away, and he pulls his hand back.
“Don’t… just let it go. I understand.” My voice sounds strange and empty to me, while Henry clenches his jaw and nods in response.
We ride the rest of the way in silence, avoiding eye contact even as we arrive at the palace and pass through the gates.
Harlington House is a bit like Buckingham Palace in London or the Palace of Versailles in France. I used to love exploring Harlington House, but today, I feel nothing. Today, the sight brings me no joy.
A servant opens my car door so I can step out. I let Henry lead the way and follow him in silence.
My heart pounds hard against my chest as the feeling of suffocation grows with every step I take deeper into the palace. Still, I keep going, step by step.
Even as the lump in my throat gets bigger. Even as the memories of Philipp nearly crush me.
Henry straightens up as the servant opens the door to the king’s study. He’s the picture-perfect loyal subject—and I feel sick as he puts on a stricken expression just to win the king’s favor.
What role I play in all this is still unclear to me, because the engagement won’t happen. It can’t happen anymore.
“Duke Perlington, thank you for coming on such short notice, though the circumstances are far from pleasant.”
King Edward is still an imposing man, tall and athletic. He exudes power, yet possesses a calmness I rarely encounter among the nobility. As his deep, soothing voice fills the room, my heart tightens.
He greets Henry, and only then do I look up and notice the deep lines under his eyes. His gaze shifts to me, and where it was just hard and unyielding, it now softens, and I see it. I see the grief for his son.
“Amelia, my dear. How are you?” He opens his arms and pulls me into a firm hug. My eyes start to burn, and I swallow and swallow to keep myself from crying, to keep myself from breaking down in front of him.
“I… I don’t know. It… I…” My words get stuck in my throat, and I can’t get anything out. A tear slips down my cheek. Henry throws me a warning look, but I ignore him.
“I know, dear, I know. We’ll all miss him terribly. Come, sit down. Shall I have something brought for you? And for you, Duke?” Edward offers me the chair in front of his desk, and I gratefully sink into it. The dull pounding in my head intensifies, and I feel an urge to sit down.
“No, thank you. I don’t need anything.” I just want to know why I’m here.
“Alright. I know you’re probably wondering why I summoned you, why you can’t have the peace to heal and grieve, and as a father, I hate my task right now. But as the king, there are things I must address.”
A noise at the door catches the king’s attention, and his expression darkens.
“It seems our second guest has just arrived.” He strides purposefully to the door, and I hear him speaking to someone who doesn’t sound too pleased, but my dizziness and headache distract me, and I close my eyes for a moment.
When I open them, my gaze meets a pair of stormy gray eyes filled with contempt. My heart stops before racing erratically, and I have to steady myself to avoid flinching.
