I can't stop thinking about what I told the princess yesterday. That she needed to cover her tracks if she wanted to actually kill Prince Marco. The idea seems absurd to regular people, I guess, but I really don't care. It's okay in my book. In fact, I might as well help her kill the prince.
What am I thinking?
I toss and turn in my bed, quickly regretting doing so when my stomach starts hurting again. I clutch my abdomen in pain, groaning and trying to sit up in bed. Walking has only made the pain a lot worse, but I can't stay in here all day long without the princess.
I might actually go insane.
But then a thought occurs to me that I haven't really thought about as much as I should have. Who was attempting to kill the princess? While Marco is definitely high on my suspect list, I can't assume it's him right away. I need evidence first of all, and secondly, it wouldn't be beneficial to have the princess killed before marrying her. A sad but harsh truth.
If there's anyone who knows something, though, it has to be Princess Elena's handmaid. So that's my first stop. I get up from my bed, almost losing my balance as soon as I stand. When I regain my footing, I wander into the hallways, walking down the servant's quarters.
It doesn't take me long to find Princess Elena's handmaiden. I'm pretty sure her name is Sofia, but I could be wrong. I never really paid attention to anyone other than the princess, and I definitely wasn't paying much attention to her when she told me her name.
I knock on her door gently, my heart racing as I wait for her response. It feels like hours pass before I hear her slow footsteps approaching.
Finally, the door opens, and the handmaid reveals herself. Her clothes are disheveled, and she looks like she just woke up from bed. Or maybe she just got back from her duties. Then again, I am technically waking her up super early in the morning.
She looks at me warily. "Mr. West? What do you need?" Her voice is slow and groggy, and I notice the redness under her eyes, accompanied by eye bags. She seems to be exhausted.
"I need to talk to you about the princess being targeted," I tell her without preamble, feeling like there's no time to lose. I step inside her bedroom and close the door behind me. "I think you know something about that."
The handmaid's eyes widen in alarm. "What do you mean?" she asks, genuinely confused. "Are you saying you think I had something to do with it?" Her face contorts into a frown, and she's clearly upset now.
"No, no, no," I rush to assure her, raising my hands. "I don't mean that at all. I just thought you might have seen something. Anything at all." Pausing for a moment to choose my next words carefully, I take a deep breath before continuing. "Did you see anything out of the ordinary that day? Or anyone who shouldn't have been in the palace?"
The handmaiden takes a moment to consider my question before answering. "I did see something weird that day," she replies slowly, as if she's still waking up. "I could have sworn I saw Prince Marco with a blonde girl I didn't recognize. I only saw her back, though."
At first, I take everything she's saying in without a second thought. I start to lose all hope of ever finding out who's behind all of this, but then I realize what she just said. My eyes light up when she mentions a blonde. She just gave me a lead.
Camille?
"A blonde girl? Can you describe her?" I ask, trying not to show too much excitement at this news. She's given me my first genuine clue to the identity of the shooter. I need to know more.
The handmaid shakes her head, meeting my gaze with regretful and tired eyes. "I didn't get a good look at her. I was in a rush, you see. I had to deliver some messages to the king."
"Of course." I sigh, taking the cue. "But you thought it was weird seeing Prince Marco with an unknown girl?"
"Yes, I did," she confirms, starting to wake up fully now. She's beginning to realize why I'm here and what kind of stakes are at play.
"Was anyone else around?" I inquire, desperate to know if she's seen anyone else who could have been responsible for the attacks. "Someone who might have recognized her?"
She shakes her head again. "I'm not sure. The halls were empty when I saw them. I'm sorry, Mr. West; I wish I could be more helpful." The confusion and exasperation are clear on her face. She truly doesn't seem to know anything more than what she's shared with me, and I believe her. Still, this is enough of a lead to go on.
"It's alright," I assure her, taking a deep breath to steady my heart. "You've been very helpful. Thank you." Instead of waiting for her to respond to my gratitude, though, I walk out of her room without another word. I don't have time for this.
I need to get to Camille.
My legs are walking as fast as they can, even though I am injured. My abdomen hurts like hell, but that's the least of my worries right now. I'm not looking forward to seeing my ex either, but I need to know if she had something to do with this whole situation. After all, she's a bitch, and murder is certainly not above someone so narcissistic.
"Where are you going?" A delicate voice stops me in my tracks, but I have to force myself not to turn around. Looking into Princess Elena's eyes would make me stop anything I do in a heartbeat, and that's not something I'm willing to risk at this moment.
I swallow a lump in my throat, biting my lip as I think of a way to respond. The only way I know how to do it is by firing back with a question directed toward her. "Why are you up?"
Even when trying my hardest not to steal a glance at her, I can't help it. During a moment of weakness, I turn around, only to see her lips curve into a slight smile while she takes a step closer to me. I notice how her nightgown flows like silk in the air, accentuating the curves of her body. My pulse picks up faster than it should, and I have to force myself to stay calm.
"Does it matter?" she counters in a soothing voice, her eyebrows lifting slightly. "Where are you going?" Her voice is hypnotic. It's like she's a siren trying to lure me into her clutches. I try not to allow myself to be hypnotized, but it's hard.
She's irresistible.
"Just going out for some fresh air," I mumble, lowering my head so she doesn't see the lie I'm telling. More like a half-lie, though, since I am technically going outside.
"You're injured." I can hear the frown in her voice even when I'm not looking at her. I have to force myself to look down—to not get caught in those mesmerizing blue-green eyes of hers. It should be a crime to have that much power over someone.
I grit my teeth and clear my throat before responding to her. "I've been better. But I'm fine," I assure her, trying to sound as stoic as possible. I don't want her to worry about me. My torso throbs, and I clench my fist to try to stop the pain from spreading further. "Seriously. I can manage."
But she's not convinced. Her blue-green eyes, as dazzling as the ocean waters, stare deep into my own, searching for any tell that would prove me wrong. She's not an easy woman to lie to, and I know that. I'm tempted to say something to get her off my back—to tell her what's really going on—but I can't. Not yet.
Princess Elena looks at me for a few seconds, evaluating me with those brilliant eyes, before narrowing them in suspicion. "Really?" she whispers.
She steps closer to me until she's almost in my face now, and I struggle to keep my breathing steady. I can smell her sweet scent—like roses mixed with fresh bread. My heart's practically racing at this point; the blood is pumping through my veins so fast that it feels like it's trying to make its way out of my body.
My heart skips a beat when her hand delicately brushes against my abdomen, the fabric of my shirt being the only thing keeping me from feeling her skin. I can't help but flinch in response. Even though it doesn't hurt, the soft touch of her finger sends shockwaves all throughout my body. I don't know if she can feel my heart racing like a horse. I don't know if I want her to, either.
But the burning sensation shoots back inside me when she presses on it, letting a pained grunt slip from my mouth. "Damn it," I groan, flicking her hand away and replacing it with my own.
"I thought you were fine?" the princess mocks, shooting me a judgmental look. Her eyes are narrowed at me now, examining me closely.
"I lied. I have no idea why I lied," I reply with a sigh, rubbing my abdomen where she had just touched it. I've never been hurt quite like this before, and I'm not a fan. "I just need some fresh air."
Princess Elena pauses for a moment, analyzing my words and my behavior. I hate that she can see through me this easily. I hate that she can make me feel so vulnerable—so small—and I hate that I let her.
Eventually, she nods silently, and I'm glad it's over. I don't know what I was afraid of. "Fine," she says softly, looking more concerned than I would have expected.
"Go to sleep," I advise her, pushing her back gently with my hand on her shoulder. After a moment's hesitation, I add, "I'll see you soon," and turn to walk away.
The princess doesn't say anything else as I leave, but I can't stop myself from looking back—even though it hurts my pride. When I turn around, I catch her standing in the same spot, staring after me with an expression I can't quite place. It's somewhere in between sadness and concern.
The sight of her like that makes me reconsider my decision to leave without a word, but what am I supposed to do? I've already said what I needed to say, and she gave me her answer. I can't just stick around and wait for her to change her mind.
I take one last look at her, watching as she disappears into her room, and then I turn away for good. I have to get to Camille, no matter what. I need to know the truth.
The palace guards let me pass through the doors without an issue, and I quickly made my way to my motorcycle. I don't even bother putting a helmet on as I take off on my bike at full speed, my body hurting from the sudden adrenaline rush. The wind whips in my hair, and my hands grip the handlebars tightly as I race through the streets of Rome. I don't care about the rules or anyone trying to stop me.
₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊ ˚✧ ﾟ.
Eventually, I make it right outside my old apartment with Camille. It's a very luxurious apartment—with stately marble columns, ornate details, and intricate window work that reflects the style of the city. The color of the building is a soft white, accentuated with touches of warm gold and yellow.
When I walk in, I immediately make my way to the elevator, going to the top floor. Luxury was never my kind of thing—it was always Camille. I didn't mind, though, because I didn't spend my days and nights here as much.
After a few seconds, the elevator dings, and I walk out. I immediately knocked on Camille's door. "Open the damn door, Camille!" I shout.
I knock on her door again, growing impatient. After a few moments, I don't even care if it's early in the morning anymore. I'm already pounding on the polished door, waiting for Camille.
The door slowly creaks open, and the blonde finally peers out from behind it. She looks shocked at my sudden anger, and I can see the confusion in her eyes.
But then an irritatingly happy smile crosses her lips. "Alexander? Have you come to apologize for leaving me?" Camille asks, her voice showing her amusement. What a bitch.
"I need to talk to you," I reply through gritted teeth, trying my best not to snap. Frustration builds up inside of me just seeing her, and the audacity she has to think I'd ever apologize to her when she should apologize to both me and the princess.
"Oh? And what about?" Camille feigns ignorance with a cheeky smile. She's used to my sudden outbursts, which is why she's able to keep a level head. "Are you here to tell me you miss me? I've missed you too, Ale—"
"About Prince Marco," I spit out, my grip on the door handle tightening. I don't care if she sees my desperation. I don't care if she sees my pain. Right now, I only care about the truth.
"What about him?" She sighs, crossing her arms across her chest. I can feel my anger simmering. It's about to boil over.
"You know what I'm talking about," I snap back, taking a step forward and closing the gap between us. "Don't play dumb with me!"
Camille, for the first time, looks like she's been taken back by my outburst. Her smile fades, and her eyes narrow. She's not pleased by my behavior. Not at all. "You have no right to talk to me like that," she snarls, squaring up to me.
"What?" I inquired, letting out a small chuckle of disbelief. "What do you mean, I have no right?" I step back, creating some space between us, but I don't want to lose the momentum of the argument.
"You heard me," she says coolly, not breaking eye contact. "You have no right to speak to me like I'm below you. And you have no right to ask me about my private life."
"This isn't about your private life," I argue back, refusing to back down. She's obviously hiding something, and I can't let her get away with it. "This is about the safety of the princess. This is about your involvement with the attempted attack on Princess Elena."
"Involvement?" Camille repeats, her voice rising in shock. "Are you insane?"
"Cut the bullshit," I snap, my face twisted with disdain. I don't care how she feels in that moment. I don't care about her feelings at all. Right now, all that matters is finding the truth.
Camille glares at me, her eyes full of hatred and anger. "How dare you!" she yells, her words causing my ears to ring. "How dare you accuse me of a crime without any evidence?"
But before I can respond, a smirk spreads across the blonde's lips. "You know I would never do such a thing. I may not have liked that... princess, but I would never go so far as to harm her. I'm not a monster."
I shake my head, trying to clear away the anger that's burning in my chest. I have no idea why I'm getting so worked up. I was calm when I got here. Seeing Camille's face, however, has changed things—changed my entire mood.
"You're a liar," I shoot back, pointing a shaking finger at Camille. "I know you're involved, and I'm not going to let you get away with it."
Camille takes a step back, holding up her hands in a defensive gesture. "Hey! Calm down. We can talk about this like mature adults."
I almost lose my balance, the anger and frustration within me reaching a boiling point. My legs feel weak, so I lean onto the wall for support. "I don't care about talking!" I shout.
Camille's expression softens, and she takes a step forward, reaching out to place a gentle hand on my arm. "Alexander, please. I understand you're upset, but this is not the way to handle things."
My anger dissipates rather quickly, replaced by another feeling. A scarily familiar feeling. I move my arm away from her quickly, not wanting her to get that power over me again. She's treating me like I'm insane and I need to be taken care of.
"I know what you're trying to do." I jerk my body back quickly, clutching my stomach as I almost trip over my own feet. "You're trying to manipulate me into thinking you care about my well-being. It's not going to work this time, Camille."
As soon as the words leave my mouth, it's like a switch has been flipped in Camille's head. Her eyes narrow, and her lips thin into a straight line. "Manipulate you?" she repeats, her tone colder than ice. "I'm not trying to manipulate you, Alexander."
For a moment, we're at a standstill, each staring at the other in silence. I can feel the tension building between us, and I know that if I let this go on any longer, it'll only end in disaster.
With a slight shake of my head, I try to clear away my anger and frustration. "I don't have time for this," I say curtly, turning to leave. I need to get out of here before the situation escalates any further.
"Fine," Camille says, her voice a quiet whisper. "Leave."
I walk toward the door, my heart pounding in my chest. As soon as I stepped outside, I let out a sigh of relief. The warm air of August washes over me, helping to soothe my frazzled nerves.
Camille's words haunt me, though. She's a lot of terrible things, but even I know that deep down, she's way too stupid to actually be involved in or attempt to murder someone. It can't be her, and the blonde who was apparently with Marco had to have been someone else.
But who?
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・
authors note: soo any guesses? i think i made it too obvious but 💀