Hawthorne

49 - By the end of the Night

Camilla of Wales

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 own pain. 

Still, he found the maturity to not 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 of this mess wouldn't have happened.

But I had to be too proud to give him a second chance. I let it slip through my fingers and now I lost him.

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

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

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

"Your Majesty," Joshua greets, bowing from the doorway. "Everyone's wondering when will you be coming out?"

Ugh, of course.

After all of these months, it doesn't get any easier. Especially since I loathe these kinds of events. What good is it to be Queen if my power is very limited?

"We'll be right out," Edgar singsongs to Joshua, who just thins his lips in a disapproving expression. 

He has never been fond of my lone 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 that were on the table for them." His matter-of-fact tone makes me want to punch him in the face, but I can't know. 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."

"Well, if you were a man, they would," Edgar tuts. 

"Thank you for your honesty," I grumble.

"I vowed for nothing less, Your Majesty." His cocky smirk makes an appearance before he bows. "You look stunning, by the way."

"Of course," I mutter. 

Trying to soften the blow with a compliment, very Edgar-like.

"Lead the way," I order.

👑👑👑

Experiencing a similar event to the night the Duke's mother attempted to murder me, is unsettling. In theory, security has been reinforced and tightened. It should make me feel safe because I know this time around, everyone's to e trusted. Still, sweat gathers on my forehead and my hands tremble slightly. 

Last time, Vincent risked his life for me. And I inherently felt safer with him present. Now I just feel lost and alone. Even if surrounded by dozens of people.

Looking around I notice the decoration, way simpler than the Coronation one but still similar. Is it obvious I told the staff to recycle? Of course. This isn't—in any way—an important ceremony or event. This is a tantrum that the House of Commons and my office decided was imperative and urgent.