A/N: Hi everyone! Longer a/n at the bottom, but I just wanted to say this chapter continues on from chapter 9 and not from the EPOV!
Thanks to Fran for beta-ing. Any mistakes are my own made post Beta!
I think about Alice's question all night.
Why him?
I don't know. It's not like I picked him. Or did I? I mean, could I have just ignored the gold band on my ankle, the thoughts in my head, sharing memories I didn't even know was possible?
The answer is a blazing no.
There's no way I could have ignored something I didn't even know was happening until he explained it. Could Edward have ignored it? Could he have denied it? Could he have stopped the gold band and its power? Could he have ignored the memories I unknowingly sent to him? Could he have—
My phone rings.
I already know who it is.
He speaks first.
"The gold band on your ankle had nothing to do with our bond."
"Our bond?"
He sighs quietly. "Not a Soul Bond… not like that. But, somehow, in whatever twisted way it happened, our magic fused together and created a tether of sorts. I can hear you, see you, feel you, and smell you anytime I want. That's how my power heightened in combination with yours, but it only applies to you," he explains simply like he's known this forever. Since it happened. Over a year ago. "Your power started out of nowhere. Sharing and receiving memories, feeling emotions inside them, as if you are that person."
"How is my power heightened with you?" I ask quietly.
"Think about how it is with Alice. Your skin must be touching to share such deep memories. For us? We can be Courts apart. That's… Belle, that's something I've never heard of."
"Should I be worried?" I ask Edward the same thing I asked his sister and Jasper weeks ago.
"No," he tells me confidently. "But I don't… Belle, I can't break it."
There's a cold emptiness as he speaks.
Swallowing hard, I ask, "why do you want to break it?"
I let the hurt melt into my words in a way I instantly regret. Closing my eyes, I can almost see him in his office or wherever he might be. Black slacks, black button-down, the top few buttons undone in a relaxed, tired fashion. His eyes fixated on the way the ocean waves fight against the rocky cliff as he struggles to have this conversation with me.
"Why don't you?" he challenges after a moment.
There's no real answer I can give, and I know it goes back to Alice's earlier question. Why him?
Why him?
Why him?
Why him?
It's like my mind screams it, but my heart fights back.
I don't even know him.
How can I feel so strongly for a person I don't even know? Is it the tether? Does he feel connected to me in a way he wishes he could destroy? He can't break it; he knows that as fact, so that means he tried.
I don't know what hurts worse: that he wants to break it or knowing he's already tried.
Swallowing the emotional word vomit that wants to spew out of my mouth, I instead question how he even knew to call in the first place.
"How did you know I was thinking about the gold band? I had my block up."
"There are things that even the highest, thickest, hardest block can filter through," he explains.
"It's like my thoughts are telling on me," I joke lightly.
He chuckles so softly it's a wispy breath through the receiver. "They definitely are, Belle."
"So, uhm, what else have you heard when I had my block up?" I ask nervously, thinking back to the conversation with Alice, the times I've walked around naked, the other night when I—
"Oftentimes I don't see Belle, but I can certainly—" he stops abruptly, clearing his throat. "I can certainly feel."
"L-like what?" Panic rises. He knows. He heard. He felt. The arousal from the double dose of Woodrose, the way I succumbed to the emotion, how I—
Suddenly, I need to know.
"Come on, Edward, don't be so—" I goad nervously, but he cuts me off.
"I don't want to embarrass you or hurt your feelings."
"You won't. I'm asking for it," I say, swallowing the jagged glass coating my throat. I don't know why, but I need to hear him say it.
"I've felt your relaxation as you'd bathe in Court 5. It was easy, soft. You were so content to lay in that water for hours. It was like a blanket of warmth, like being on my feet for twelve hours and finally getting to sit down. I particularly enjoy feeling that sentiment," he explains quietly, his voice tranquil. "I've also felt your fear and worry about the Royce situation—not just for you but for everyone. For Alice and Jasper, for your parents, for me. That... those are unusually hard feelings to shake, I won't lie." Edward stops here, thinking.
"Go on," I tell him, laying back on the bed, scooting under the covers so I can hide myself if needed. From what, I have no idea.
When Edward speaks again, there's a heaviness to his tone. "I've felt you in the bath."
"You said that already."
"In Court 4," he corrects huskily.
"Oh."
"And," he starts but pauses, sighing softly.
"Please," I whisper soft and heavy, uncomfortable that he knows, he felt, but there's nothing I can do about it now.
"Yes," he tells me. "Yes, I… felt you the other night." It's a simple confession, one I wanted to hear, and it turns my belly into lava.
"You did," I say softly. It's not a question so much as it's an understanding.
"Please know those moments are natural. Everyone—" he starts but pauses.
Flames shoot up my limbs, consuming my skin, but this time, it's not from embarrassment.
"Do you feel other people?" I ask barely above a whisper.
"Never." His honesty blazes through me.
Never.
Closing my eyes, I think back to the other night. My dress bunched up, under my covers, fingers glistening from my arousal. Gasps and moans as I touched myself. The hardened peaks of my nipples and how I reveled in the harsh scratch against them as the dress pulled tautly. How my toes curled when I—
"Belle," he groans, pained.
"S-sorry," I murmur. "I don't… I'm just…I wish I hadn't…" but I can't find the words to apologize as I stammer over my indignity.
"You do not need to express regret. What you did is normal. I must apologize that I was privy to your most private moment when you did not invite me to be. After you hung up, and I could feel, I tried to block it. Please believe that. I would never willingly violate your—"
"Tried?" I gulp, cutting him off.
"Tried," he admits softly. "It was difficult to turn you off."
It's childish, but I can't help the embarrassed giggle that falls from my lips. Edward joins in, too.
"I didn't mean—" he starts but eventually gives up. "I just meant, I wanted to give you your privacy to… explore yourself however you wished. I could not shut off that part of us that is connected, though. You had your block up, but like I said, there are some things that can escape even the tightest block."
Choosing to ignore his comments, but needing answers, I say, "it's strange, and honestly unfair, that you get all these sides of me, Edward. You can feel all of this… and I get… I get what you give." I know it sounds petulant, but I am. He should know it's not fair.
"Explain," he says easily.
"You can feel when I'm… you know… but I get… nothing?"
He chuckles darkly, shamelessly. "Is that what you want, Belle? You want to feel that?"
"I—no—I didn't mean—you misunderstand." My words fall out like water.
"If that's what you want, your wish is my command—"
"Edward, no," I tell him harshly, afraid he'll send a memory of some kind through our tether, over my block, and I'll never get it out of my head. I'm not afraid of what I'll see, I'm worried I'll like what I see. Saliva pools in my mouth.
He chuckles lighter this time, more playful. "Perhaps you're better at blocking me out than I am at blocking you out, Belle."
"Explain," I say, using his words.
"Your magic is memories— giving, sharing, receiving, accepting. We know that you have no problem receiving when you are willing, like when your block is lowered. It is possible your mind might be better equipped to process these memories and images and reject when your block is up. Mine is not."
"Send me one," I tell him.
"Send you what?"
"Doesn't matter, anything. I want to see if I get it when my block is up."
He hums for a minute before the line goes quiet.
Quickly, I throw up my block the way I normally would. My mind, a static blank canvas, receives nothing.
"Did you do it yet?"
Edward scoffs. "Yes."
"What was it?"
I can hear the smirk in his voice as he says, "arguing with one of my professors."
"Try another."
It's the same—static with a touch of something… a scent, but I can't quite put my finger on it. It's dark, deep, fresh. A noise like a mewl, or grunt, or someone clearing their throat whispers in the back of my mind. The sloshing or pelting of something—water maybe? And then something else that feels like short tapping's on my block.
"Wet," I tell him. "Something's very wet. And…" I pause, my eyes closed, homing in on it. It's not an image, but a feeling. It's almost as if the image he's showing has a film over it, but I can feel it. I gasp so intensely it's like it's ripped abruptly from me.
I know what this is. I feel what this is.
"Did you see?" he asks, teasing.
"Sort of, but I could definitely feel," I pant. "Why would you… why would you send me a memory of you and some girl laying together, Edward."
"What?" he asks, confused. "No, I wasn't—you are mistaken. There was no girl, Belle."
Dazed, I ask, "then what…" but the image becomes more evident the more I focus, the more I ease down my block. Just as I sense what it could be, I freeze.
I see it through his eyes. Edward's in the shower, water falling onto him from above. He's got one long, muscular arm braced against the tiled wall. Long fingers dig and grip the slippery surface like he's trying to hold on to anything at all. And then… and then he grunts. Grunts.
"Okay, enough," I huff.
"I just… I wanted to make it even," he explains.
"I show you mine; you show me yours?"
When he laughs, it's honest and free. "Tit for Tat… or so they say," he chuckles.
"Royals, Edward," I tell him, still recovering.
"Come on; you act like you were with me in the shower." I can practically hear the roll of his eyes. "Now we're even, Belle," he teases easily. Charm flirts through every letter he speaks, and it does the trick of lightening the mood.
I don't know what makes me ask him, but I can't stop myself.
"What are we doing?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean… what is this? Are we only talking because our magic has Bonded? Like, can that even happen? Does that mean… Edward does that mean we—"
"No," he says firmly. "No, we're not Soul Bonded."
"So, what are we?"
"I don't know."
It's like he's at a loss for words, and so am I. Other than our magic, there's no reason for us to talk… but I don't want to stop.
"Friends?" I ask.
His delayed response makes my stomach turn. "Friends don't feel each other's arousal, Belle."
"Why do you always have to make it weird?" I ask miserably.
His chuckle lightens the mood. "If that is what you wish, then we can be… friends."
~!~
After we hang up, I cannot get the image of Edward out of my mind. Nearly naked. Soaking wet. I couldn't see anything else but his long, extended arm holding himself up. I know where the other one was, but I can't get myself to picture it. What I can do, though, is feel it. Feel the pleasure, arousal, and guttural vulnerability he shared with me. It stirs something in me, awakens my core, turns me into a puddle… but I push it away, curl up under my covers, and slip into sleep.
~!~
Two days before we are to leave, Alice bursts into my room before we head off to our respective schools. She sighs with a huff and crosses her arms.
"Okay, let's do Court 3," she says.
"Yeah, that's where we're going next," I tell her with a smile, looking at her like she's gone mad.
"No. Court 3 for the extended stay."
Images that Edward has previously sent filter through my mind. The beauty, the ocean, the cliffs. Excitement courses through me.
"You're sure you don't want to stay in Court 4?" Honestly, if she wanted to, I'd stay here for her.
"I'm sure," she says with a smile, walking out of my room just as quickly as she walked in.
Before leaving the house, we fill in the paperwork the Royals left us stating our decision. Alice and I both sign it, seal it, and leave it sitting on the table. Within seconds, it disappears.
"Maybe they are always watching us," Alice breathes without a laugh or a smile. "How absolutely boring for them," she scoffs quickly, turning to leave as if the thought barely bothers her.
~!~
Jane teaches me about social skills training, ensuring each student is spoken to each day, and the upcoming young adult authors. I never bring up Edward, and she never asks about him.
As much as the Cullens have talked negatively about Jane, she's been nothing but valuable during this field observation. I dare even think she's been the best teacher I've worked with.
"You like teaching?" I ask her at the end of the day.
"I do."
"You're very good," I tell her honestly. "You treat them as though they are your own children."
Her fingers freeze for a brief moment as she searches for something on her desk before she responds. "Yes, well, some teachers often forget these are human beings, the future of our Courts, and not cattle that we push through. Too many see them as grades. I see them for who they are and what they are capable of."
"And what if they are capable of—" but then I stop, remembering where Jane comes from. Who she is.
Jane stops, sighs, and crosses her arms. "Finish your thought," she huffs.
I shake my head, too scared to continue.
"Finish it," she tells me sternly. "I'm not a narc, Belle. I don't run off and tell my family every little thing I hear." She smiles and looks around her classroom. "If I did, many of these so-called teachers would be expelled."
"Expelled?"
She closes her door, turns back to me, and smirks. "You first."
Sighing, I explain, "what if a student is capable of much more than they're chosen for on graduation day. What if a student excels in every avenue in school, but on graduation day, they open a letter that has them destined to be something that doesn't utilize their… capabilities."
"So, you're asking what if a student shows significant academic intelligence but is chosen to be a garbage man?" she puts bluntly.
"Uh, yeah, I guess."
Jane smirks and crosses her arms. "You remind me so much of myself, Belle." Then she breathes evenly and looks around, checking for something. Jane turns back around and lifts a shoulder passively. "Maybe the Royals are looking into their current process and policies. Maybe they're looking to… shake things up."
My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. "Really?"
She shrugs nonchalantly. "Maybe."
"I think that would be—," I start but pause, rethinking my word choice. "I'm curious to see how the Royals change things."
"Don't hold your breath," Jane snorts.
"What did you mean by expelled?"
Jane grabs her coat, her heels clicking against the tile floor. She's in a knee-length, form-fitting dress with a lace collar and edging on the sleeves. She looks very pretty, and I guess I can see where Edward might have been attracted to her. Long blond hair curled at the ends. Perfectly petite body, flat stomach, beautiful smile. Jane looks as though her magic might be beauty.
"When you are deemed unfit for you career, commit a terrible crime, or get multiple strikes, you go before the Judge."
"Judge?"
"Yes. The Judge is the ruler of all. The Royals answer to the Judge."
"Wow," I say, dumbfounded. "Why have I never heard of the Judge before? Is this not common knowledge?"
"It's a new position. A pilot position, if you will. The Judge has only been in place the last few decades." Jane sort of smirks as we walk out of the building and into the bright sunshine of Court 4. "It is not a position written in the history books quite yet."
"He sounds very… powerful."
"He?" Jane asks, her glassy eyes sliding up and down my body. "Who said anything about a he?"
She smiles slowly, and it feels welcoming, like now we're both on the inside of this joke.
"You'd love my friend, Alice," I tell her honestly before we part ways. "You remind me of her."
"Alice Cullen?" Jane asks.
I nod, knowing she's putting together the pieces.
"Goodbye," Jane says, ignoring my comment.
~!~
I find Alice on the bus when I board. Without a word, I place my hand on hers and show Alice everything Jane said.
Alice gasps and laughs and scoffs at Jane. It's unspoken between us that we're not going to speak about this in public with others on the bus, but the moment we arrive at her house, she gives me her unfiltered thoughts.
"You have to be careful with her, Belle. She can be sneaky. It wouldn't surprise me if she were tricking you. Jane's the kind of person who either tolerates you or hates you. There's no in-between."
"How will I know which one I fall under?"
"You don't. That's the thing with Jane. She treats everyone the same regardless of her feelings toward you."
Given what Alice says, she has a point. Edward doesn't have to knock on my block to tell me he agrees, but he does anyway.
I know, I tell him softly as I travel upstairs and change. Carlisle has invited us all to a fancy dinner at his favorite restaurant tonight.
This Judge… I've heard rumors, but I didn't believe it. So much to discuss, but we cannot do it now.
I glance at the dress Alice must have snapped for me. It's more risque than I'm comfortable wearing, especially in front of her parents, but something tells me hers will be sexier.
Why not now? I ask, running my fingers across the dress's beaded sparkles, nude underlay, white jewels. It's incredibly beautiful, and I'm almost afraid to wear it.
You have plans.
Yes. Your dad is taking us to—
Mount Hill. Yes, I know the place.
And is it good?
It is my favorite place in Court 4.
Why?
You'll see.
Edward disappears from my mind then, so I pull my block up and think about how crazy Alice is for picking such a revealing dress for me.
Claire sits at my feet, her paw on my knee.
"Hi, baby," I whisper, petting her nose, rubbing her ears, patting her back.
She kisses my legs before waltzing back the way she came. Standing and shutting the door, I walk over to the dress and sigh.
I'm not Alice. I don't have a tiny, petite body. My hips are curvier, my breasts are larger, my thighs touch when I walk. Alice wants to get me out of my comfort zone, I totally understand that, but this might be too much too fast.
Just then, Alice barges in. "Belle, you have to put these on first." In her hand are nude, flower-shaped stickers.
"Uhm, where?"
She giggles and points to my breasts.
~!~
I place the nipple coverings where she instructs—I'm not ready for her to get that comfortable with me yet. Alice helps me into the long dress, which is heavy from the jewels and beads. White and silver crystals reflect under the light. A slit trails up my thigh, exposing the slight tan my skin has accepted from the Court 4 sun. Crystal fringe drips from the dress onto my exposed leg from the slit. There's a deep V, and I'm not wearing a bra, so my breasts… well, they've never looked better.
"Isn't this a little… much? I mean, we're only going to dinner," I reason with her.
"Belle, this is what's expected in Court 4. This is tame compared to what you'll see others wearing tonight."
"I just feel so exposed."
She tsks, trying to make me feel better. "It's got long sleeves!"
~!~
Alice was right. Compared to other women at this restaurant, I may as well be wearing a parka. It's extremely busy, extremely beautiful, and extremely rich. Not just the outfits people wear, but the décor inside, the music floating around, the clink of glasses, and soft laughter.
Esme wears a strapless black gown that shimmers. It's got a sweetheart neckline with a low back. Both her legs are exposed by a slit on each side showcasing her toned legs and patent leather pumps. She catches the eye of every man in this room.
Alice… she's… barely wearing anything. Soft white tulle wraps around her breasts, midsection, and top of her thighs. It covers her private bits, and that's about it.
I grab Alice's hand in appreciation for what she's chosen for me because now I know how much worse it could be. She sends me a wink before waving at people she must know.
"Reservation for Cullen," Carlisle says to the older lady as we enter.
Neither Court 6 nor Court 5 have restaurants like this, so I'm at a loss. This place is incredible. The inside looks as though it's literally carved into the mountain, which I guess it was, as Carlisle explains.
He instructs me to touch the walls, and when I do, they're marble stone under my fingers. Cold, hard, indestructible. The atmosphere is private with dim lights and dark features, but the energy stirs as the guests glance around. Carlisle smiles and greets others, shakes hands, and moves on. It seems he knows everyone.
We're shown to a table in the far back corner overlooking the water below. I gasp when I see it.
Color lights up the sky, illuminating our table in a rainbow of shades. The sunset paints the ocean, too, but it's like melting colors reflecting onto the water.
"This table has the best view in the restaurant!" I exclaim, turning my body to take it in. I forget about the others, forget about dinner, and forget anything exists outside of this view.
"It's the best view in the Court," a familiar voice says behind me.
Turning around, he's there. Like a dirty penny, dark copper hair sticks up in every direction. Intense green eyes fixate onto my blue ones, blazing and unblinking. His height towers over me. There's a smirk before he looks away.
"Hello, Mother," he says warmly, turning from me to greet his mom with a hug and kiss on her cheek.
Esme grabs him, hugs him, and cries into his neck. "I missed you," she says quietly.
Edward wraps his arms around her for a vulnerable minute before he kisses her forehead and walks to his dad.
"Father," he says with a hand outstretched. Carlisle smiles and pulls him in for a long hug, much like his mom did.
Edward then greets a feigning unenthused Alice with a hand on her shoulder and a kiss on her cheek. "Al," he says, teasing. She scoffs at the nickname and pushes him away.
"Belle," he says softly, greeting me formally. His hand on my wrist near my hip, touching gently as long fingers wrap around the skin there. It's warm and soft as it slowly trails up my arm. And then he leans in closer and closer until his lips touch my cheek. Delicately. Like a whisper that's too low. I want to ask him to do it again—louder, bolder, heavier— but I refrain. "Marvelous dress," he whispers quieter than his kiss.
Prickles of something crawl up my skin. I can feel the heat of his words, his breath, as it electrifies every hair follicle on my body.
Alice picked it, I tell him softly.
He doesn't respond, but he does allow his fingers to trail down my arm and back to my wrist before releasing me.
An older lady brings an extra chair and introduces herself as our server. He sits between Alice and his dad, across from me at the table. He's directly in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, blocking the view of the sunset and water, but that's okay.
It's background noise compared to him, anyway.
I open the menu and look through. No prices are listed, and my stomach kind of turns. I flip through each page of this very extensive menu before I letting the nerves waft through me. Edward touches his foot to mine under the table. When I glance up, he's still looking at and talking to his dad.
"Esme, where are the prices?" I ask her gently.
She smiles softly and lays her hand over mine. "You need not worry, Belle. We have it covered."
"I have money," I tell her softly, embarrassed she would think I didn't have any. U5 provides a livable stipend for food each month.
Her smile falls, but then she explains, "I didn't mean it to be rude, Belle. As your host parents, it's our responsibility to pay when we go out."
Alice glances up at me and smiles. "The Bluefin Tuna is delicious," Alice says, pointing it out in her menu.
I nod but look through the menu anyway. It's like reading a foreign language. Sauces and meat I've never heard of paired with weird vegetables fill the pages.
The server returns with a smile. She has worn-in eyes and chapped lips, but she seems friendly, nonetheless. Her soft gray hair is braided down her back. She asks me what I'd like to order.
"Bluefin Tuna," I tell her quietly, nervously.
"Might I suggest the Spanish Rosé to pair with it?" the lady asks.
I look to Alice, who smiles and nods.
"Okay," I tell her.
Alice orders the same and asks for the Rosé to be brought immediately. She dives into conversation about Court 3 and what she's heard from others at her school. I think about telling her everything Edward has said, but I don't. I want that to stay between us.
"Do you know who your host family is yet?" Esme asks.
"We haven't heard anything. I guess it'll be like Court 7, and we'll find out when we get there."
"Are you taking the boat or the train?" Edward asks.
Alice and I look at each other and shrug.
"What do you recommend?" I ask him.
He smiles so sweetly it makes my stomach hurt. His eyes dance with mischief at the same time he leans back in his seat. His tall trunk scootches down, his right ankle rests on his left knee, and his smile never falters. He looks like a Royal sitting on a throne of confidence—his enormous stature has nothing to do with his height. I don't think I've ever been more attracted to anyone so much in my life as I am right now.
There's a taunting flip in my belly as I watch him. It's like my body knows I should stop, stay away, close off and forget him… but another part of me wants to play this game, talk to him, experience life.
Thinking back to when Alice asked if I'm going to sit in our room and exist or if I'm going to get out and live, I decide on the latter.
Life is meant to be lived, not just to merely exist. And today, right now, I choose to live.
So, I look down bashfully, showing him the physiological side of what he does to me. A deep pink blush flushes my cheeks, shoulders, and décolleté. And then I glance up through my lashes. Long, thick, and black. Alice dolled me up before we left, and I'm grateful at this moment.
Edward's smirk never falters. In fact, it deepens into a smug grin. He's playing this game, too. For the first time in a while, my ankle lights on fire. It's a slow burn as Edward stares me down, his eyes, emerald-green infernos, capturing my every move like a camera.
"I recommend the boat," he says easily.
My ankle.
I know.
"I've never taken the boat before!" Alice says in excitement, turning to her mom.
Why does it burn when the band no longer exists? I ask.
Swallowing hard, I keep Edward's gaze. He blinks easily, like we're not in a staring contest. His eyes glance from my mouth to my shoulders, to my plunging neckline, the waistline of my dress, and then back up. Slowly. His eyes smolder as they return to mine. My skin prickles with electricity. My mouth dries from the nerves.
It's where it all started. That's where our magic first mated. His words sink in so deep I can feel them branded onto every blood cell in my body. They call to each other.
And then the drinks arrive, and everything sort of fizzles out.
He pulls his eyes from mine, his lips relax back into a placid state, and my ankle quells momentarily.
Suddenly dying of thirst, I down half the Rosé in two drinks. It's sweet but tart.
"Belle," Alice laughs loudly in shock.
I glance around the table where Esme and Edward wear equally surprised looks. Carlisle, though, looks at me warily. His lips pull into the slightest smile before he turns away. In this moment, I see where Edward gets it from—the charisma, the charm, the cunning smile.
He and his dad are so very alike.
"You do know that's wine, right?" Alice giggles, sipping hers.
"Uhm, no?" I say slowly. "How would I have known that?"
Twenty minutes pass, and my first glass is empty. By the second glass, I'm feeling lightheaded, to say the least. With everything going on between Edward and me, I more than welcome it, though.
Carlisle absolutely senses it because his eyes rarely leave me.
"Are you okay, Belle?" Carlisle asks when Alice and Edward excuse themselves to greet some old peers a few tables down. "I couldn't help but notice that you feel a little... drunk." He chuckles out the last word.
I giggle with him and nod. "I feel okay; thank you for asking, though."
Carlisle stands and offers his arm to me. "I'd like to show you something."
How in the world can I deny this brutally handsome man? I hook my arm in his, and he protectively pulls me to his side, watching so I don't bump into anything on the way.
He walks us through the back of the restaurant, down a hall, and out a set of double doors. Warm air greets us as we step onto a small, stone balcony with a wrought iron fence. It hangs over the ocean so when you look down, it's all water. The ocean crashes below us as the sun sets behind the water. Deep oranges and purples watercolor the sky.
"Isn't this something?" I ask him.
He nods. "It absolutely is."
"Do you ever get used to it?" I ask quietly, not taking my eyes from the scenery.
He shakes his head. "Never. And don't trust the person who tells you they do."
"Edward said it pales in comparison to Court 3," I say easily.
Carlisle's silence surprises me, and when I turn, he's looking at my face. "When did he say that?"
"Oh, uhm, I don't remember. It must have been when he came to see Alice," I say slowly, trying to conjure up a good lie. My throat constricts in the same way my nerves do.
"Belle, you do remember I feel everything, correct?"
I swallow heavily. "My block is up."
"It isn't," he tells me softly, a knowing smile tugging at his cheeks. "Perhaps it is down because you wanted my son to hear something?"
"I-I," I stammer, thinking quickly about what to say next. "I don't know—"
He shakes his head. "My son very rarely hides his emotions. He grew tired of it as a teenager. I've felt it all. His anger, his pain, his happiness, even his sexual desires. He stopped hiding all of that from me ages ago," Carlisle pauses to take me in. "What strikes me as interesting is that tonight, for the first time in many, many years, Edward tried to hide from me."
"Oh, that's, uhm, weird."
Carlisle smiles meaningfully. He grips my palm, cupping my small hand in his large one, and squeezes assuredly. It's fatherly and protective. "I will tell no one, Belle."
He turns to leave as I ask, "tell what? There's nothing to tell."
Edward's dad turns in this moment, opens his mouth to speak before deciding against it. He just sends me a wink before walking back the way we came.
There's a slow panic that floats around me. I think very briefly about jumping into the ocean, but I can't swim, and I definitely don't have a death wish… I just… I need to escape.
What does Carlisle know, and how can I figure it out?
"Your block is up," Edward says, scaring a squeak out of me.
"Royals!" I hiss, clutching my heart with my hand. "I didn't hear you."
"I didn't hear you," he says seriously. "What's going on?"
I turn from him and watch the deepness of the sky. "Nothing," I lie. "Your dad was showing me this little spot, and then—"
"Yes, I heard him. Why is your block up?"
"I didn't want him to feel anything." It's not a total lie.
"Feel what, Belle?" Edward taunts with a teasing smile.
The game, I think to myself. Play the game.
I try to snap back into it but being alone with him so close makes me nervous. Maybe it'll work if I'm honest? Maybe if I hone into him, see if I can feel him like he explained last night.
Closing my eyes, I lower my block, and connect to anything he gives. He can read me without even thinking, and maybe I unknowingly push that part of him away. Silently, I beg for more. What are we doing, what does this mean, how can I protect myself from this… this crush that surely will end up crushing me.
Edward takes and takes what he wants from me—whether willingly or not—but I only get what he offers. He says I'm better at keeping him out, but I want to try and change that. With my block lowered so far down, I accept anything from him I can absorb.
My ankle starts to heat again. There's a warmth that's less intense as it spreads throughout my body. It's so quiet I can hear the air as it fills his lungs.
And then, all at once… I get it.
I get Edward.
I get all of Edward.
A whirlpool of memories as we swim in his life. A tornado of happenings whips around us as we remain cemented to the ground.
He's born, he's five, he's kissing a girl, he's laughing in class, he's crying, he's hurt, he's mad at his mom, he's fighting with Jasper, he's talking to some woman, he's reading his letter on graduation day, he's smiling at another girl, he's gripping my ankle, he's in his office, he's challenging a professor, he's swimming in a large pool, he's smiling at me, he's looking right at me, he's lifting a finger to touch my cheek.
He's touching my cheek.
I snap my eyes open, and there he is, standing before me, one finger grazed against my cheek, a smirk against his lips.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" he teases, his finger dropping from my cheek.
Without thinking, I reach to grab it. His fingers in mine. Edward doesn't pull away.
"You… you wanted me to do that?" I ask, confused. "You wanted me to see all those memories?"
Edward shrugs. "I can see you, so I want you to see me."
"Why?"
"To be fair."
"Is that the only reason?" I ask, eyes fixed on his.
"To be equals."
"Equals?"
Edward's smile lifts higher, his fingers grip mine firmer, dropping, so our arms are relaxed.
He evades the question. "Dinner is at the table."
I let him. "Okay."
He allows me to walk ahead of him as he holds the door.
"That really is some dress."
~!~
Dinner is absolutely delicious.
When we arrive back, another glass of wine is waiting next to my dinner plate. Alice looks relieved but doesn't question it as we sit and dig in. She talks quietly to her mom about some of her old friends and how different they are. Esme tells her sometimes it's not them who have changed. It reminds me of the same conversation I had with my mom last week.
Edward hasn't looked up from his plate since we sat down. He hasn't said a word into my mind, either. I wonder if everything's okay.
When I think his name, though, all those same memories flood through me until one sticks.
Edward when he was younger, running through the garden in his backyard, calling out Alice's name. He finds her against a tree, head resting on her knees. He asks her what's wrong, and she shows him a splinter. Edward kneels and slowly pulls it out. Alice's shining smile glistens back as she thanks him.
He didn't send it. I found it.
I wonder what happens when I think of Edward and… school.
Like a card catalogue, memories filter in and out until one plays like a movie.
Edward's sitting in class, tapping his pencil, sighing in boredom. The teacher calls on him, he answers correctly, they move on. Edward doodles in the top right corner of his paper.
Edward and… Claire.
A memory of Edward on a particularly warm day. He has Claire outside playing fetch. He throws a yellow ball into the pool, and Claire excitedly jumps in, grabs the ball, and runs it over to Edward. He reaches down, his bare chest exposed in his view, and rubs Claire's head lovingly.
When I look up, I'm thankful that everyone's engaged in their own conversations. Pushing the memories away, I join an easy conversation with Alice and her mom.
~!~
Esme and Carlisle stay much longer than we do. They meet up with some friends and hang out on a back patio. Everyone's dressed formally, laughing loudly, and smiling happily. The feelings of Court 4 cover my body in bliss.
Alice, Edward, and I walk the path back to her home. We're not three minutes from the restaurant, and Alice is already complaining.
"Come on, Belle," Alice says. "I want to call Jasper."
My feet rush, keeping up with hers, but I'm missing the sunset, the Court, and the flowers all around us. The sound of water, like the ocean against the beach, catches my attention.
"Alice," Edward calls, annoyed. "Just Split."
"I can't."
Split?
"When did you last try?"
Alice stops, turns, and huffs. She looks beautiful in her barely-there dress, but her face paints a different image.
"Never," she says. "Some people aren't strong like—"
"Bullshit," Edward says, stopping in the middle of the road, arms crossed. "Try it."
"How?"
"Imagine the place, find the room, and use your magic, Alice."
Alice does as he says. She thinks, she closes her eyes, she smiles—
"Not Court 5," Edward corrects. "It's too far. Your magic needs to be strengthened first. Split into your bedroom. I'll see Belle home."
She looks at me, her lips in a thin line as she decides. "You're okay?" she asks me quietly.
Edward scoffs before I nod. "I'm perfectly fine," I tell her with a smile. "I can manage home by myself," I say for both their sake.
Alice nods before she follows Edward's instructions. She snaps, and she's gone.
I glance over, and Edward's smirk pulls at his lips.
"I will be back," he tells me before disappearing as well.
Sighing, actually enjoying my own company, I run my fingers against the stucco buildings and the silky flower petals planted along the sidewalk, on buildings, off of lamp posts.
This place… this place is wonderful.
I turn to my right, walking through an alleyway and back into town. The sunset hasn't disappeared completely, and it paints the town square a lovely gold.
There's music and laughter and calm. To my right is the ice cream place Alice took me to. Above, standing taller than all the other buildings, is Edward's office. To my left is a path overshadowed by fawning bushes cocooning the people like a hive. As I slowly walk, my heels make quiet clicks against the stone.
The path leads to a stone bridge, wide and weathered, overlooking a quickly flowing river.
"You left," his voice says behind me.
Edward.
Turning, I take him in. The top three buttons of his shirt have been unbuttoned; his suit coat hangs loosely on his frame, and his previously coiffed hair stands messily as though someone had been tugging on it.
Maybe he went—
"I checked to see if Alice made it okay," he says. I'm not sure if he could hear me or if he's just filling the silence.
"Did she?"
"Yes."
"This place is so pretty," I tell him, turning back around.
"It is," he agrees, taking me by surprise.
He leads us over the bridge and back onto a path.
"No argument?" I tease. "I'm used to you comparing other Courts to Court 3."
With his hands in his pockets, head face down, he turns slightly to glance at me. "Nothing compares to Court 3, Belle. You will see."
We're quiet for the rest of the walk home. Edward greets the citizens as we pass, smiling and nodding. He helps me up a flight of stairs back onto the main road. My dress drags behind me; the beading snagging every now and then.
"What are you doing here?" I ask as we turn onto their street.
"A gentleman sees that a lady gets home safely," he responds honestly. "I'm also making sure you do not catch the eye of any hunters."
"I mean in Court 4. Why—what are you… is everything okay?" I finally manage to ask.
He doesn't hide the truth. "Jasper found Royce. He's… taking care of things. I am here to ensure your safety."
"He found Royce? When?"
"Shortly before I arrived. He was in Court 5 near your reading bench."
"How's Jasper?" I ask.
Edward shrugs. "I have not heard back yet."
"So how do you know Royce has been… you know."
He smirks and shrugs again. "I'm assuming Jasper will call with an update."
"Why did you let Alice go home and call Jasper if you knew he was busy."
Edward looks over, eyeing me intensely. "So you could be alone."
"I didn't—"
"Your thoughts said otherwise," he admits.
I simply nod, too tired to challenge or question him. We walk leisurely up the driveway, to the side, and through the garden. It strikes me that I never managed to make my way into Esme's garden during my stay here.
"Do you have a moment?" Edward asks. "I would like to show you something."
It's darker now; the sun has already set, the colors in the sky bleeding as they snuff out the light.
"Okay."
He guides me through the garden, past a small patio, and through a gate. I follow him through some trees and into an arbor. It's private but lit with tiny lights along the perimeter. Purple and pink flowers grow from vines that hang from a tall pergola, creating a natural curtain of privacy.
"What is this?" I ask softly, taken back by the beauty.
"I come here every now and then when I need to be alone … to hear nothing. My parents know this is my place. When I was younger and my magic first started, I could not get a grip on it. I could not handle the power. There were many thoughts at such a young age."
"I bet that was difficult," I tell him, taking a seat and looking around. Even above, the vines grow bright, blooming flowers that hang down like drops of water frozen overhead.
Edward lets out a laugh, his smile bright. "No one can relate," he admits. "No one can understand what it is like to be fifteen and hear the thoughts of what your English teacher wants to do to your mother, or that your girlfriend plans to get pregnant on purpose, or that your best friend's mom used her magic against you."
He's open and honest for one of the first times ever. He's giving little bits of himself to me, and I collect them like jewels. I'm scared to speak, scared to respond, scared to sympathize.
"No one knows, Belle," he says softly.
"What did you do?" I ask.
"Came here. I did a lot of research, tried to get rid of my magic, wrote letters to the Royals begging for them to make me normal."
I tease him with a smile. "I guess they didn't listen."
He scoffs a half-hearted smile. "They did not."
"She tried to get pregnant on purpose?"
He nods. "We were young, maybe fifteen, but she was desperate to Bond. I kissed her just to see, and when nothing happened, I ended it. We reconnected a few months later, and I could hear her plan before we had sex. I was a dumb kid and told my dad. He contacted the Royals, and that pretty much sealed her fate."
"Meaning?"
"On graduation day, she was sent Court 7 for housekeeping."
"And you think that had everything to do with you?"
"She was the first in her family to ever be sent to live below Court 5."
Swallowing hard, I ask, "and do you regret telling your dad?"
He shakes his head, nods, then shakes it again. "I don't fucking know," he tells me quietly. "You know my thoughts on empathy."
"And Jasper's mom?" I ask nervously.
He takes a few breaths, a few moments of calm before responding. This is difficult for him for many reasons, and even if he doesn't open up tonight, showing me this is enough.
"Jasper and I grew up together. If he wasn't at my house, I was at his. He didn't have a dad, so mine took him under his wing," he starts quietly, opening up slowly. "His mom took everything to heart. Her husband's death, Jasper's friendship with me, his relationship with my dad. She … her magic… she's a witch," he tells me. His words are devoid of emotion. Each very calculated. "That means she's able to influence. Generally, when a witch influences, it erases the memory of the person influenced. Not me, though," he explains the last part bitterly. "I remember every single fucking time—"
His phone rings then, a shrill beeping in the middle of a sanctuary.
"Yes?" he answers, turning away from me then. It's quiet. Too quiet. Edward hums, huffs, and sighs every couple of minutes as I sit on the cement bench and wait.
His height nearly scrapes against the wildflowers growing above. The lights turn his face yellow tinged with the pinks of the blooms. One hand in his pocket, the other gripping the phone at his ear.
"When?" he asks concisely, waiting for an answer. "What's the movement?" My ears strain painfully hard to hear any sort of response on the other end, but I can't. "Discomfort?" he asks blandly. More silence. "Thursday," he says finally, hanging up.
It's a moment before he turns back. Another before he says anything.
"We should head back." His eyes on mine, his hand outstretched to guide me.
I place my hand in his but keep my feet rooted in place. He turns to pull me, but I stay still.
"Every time she did what?" I ask uneasily, unsure how he'll respond to my pushing.
Edward swallows, turning back to me. My hand still grasped in his as his thumb slowly strokes my knuckles. Each swipe across bone causes waves in my stomach. A soft smile plays at his lips before he walks closer, standing inches from me, his eyes downcast onto mine. They're a deeper green in the darkness of our escape.
"There's been a miscalculation with Jasper's plan," he says evenly, unblinking. "He was to end Royce tonight in Court 5. However, it does appear that Royce is now loose in Court 4. I would much appreciate it, Belle, if you would allow me to take you back to the house."
"What happened?"
"I will explain once we are back inside your room. You are unprotected out here."
"I've taken the Woodrose as prescribed," I tell him. "He can't smell me, can he?"
Edward shakes his head. "No, but he can smell me."
"Why would he be searching for you? I thought… he wants me, right?" The thought that Edward has been unprotected and unsafe this entire time pains me. What if he had gotten hurt? Why does Royce want him?
"He wants anyone who is close to you. He is a hunter, remember. Royce smelled us together in Court 7. And then we traveled through Courts 6, 5, and 4 to get to my office. I was… I made a mistake, Belle, and I am extremely apologetic. It was very foolish of me to parade you around through the Courts knowing—" he stops himself, releases my hand, and turns.
"You can take me back now," I tell him.
Edward blows out a breath. This is the least put-together I've ever seen. He wears his emotions openly at this moment, under the umbrella of cover in his secret hideaway.
He picks a long-stemmed flower from the wooden pergola, places it in my hand, and grips my wrist.
In a blink, we're in my room. A soft light filters from the bathroom, illuminating the large bedroom just enough to see.
"There's more than enough powder on the perimeter of this house that Royce won't be able to sense a thing," Edward says easily.
"And you?" I question.
"I will stay the night in my room. It is on the third floor. If you need anything—"
"What do you mean by Split?" I ask, thinking of anything I can to get him to stay.
I sit on the bed, the beads of my dress pressing into my skin uncomfortably.
Edward stands before me, glancing down. "What I just did."
"I didn't realize there was a name for it."
He shrugs. "Some call it Splitting; others just call it Travelling. Do you need help?" he asks, pointing to my dress.
"Oh," I start, realizing what he's asking. "Uhm, okay."
Edward snaps his fingers, and suddenly the water in the bath starts. "Did you have a nice night?" he whispers as I stand and turn, giving him my back. It's closer than we've ever been—more intimate, too. There's a tenderness in his voice, and I can imagine the way it heats my skin from behind.
I nod. "Yes."
His softly brushes my hair away from my neck. Long, warm fingers grip the zipper, pulling it down at a tantalizingly slow speed. I'm braless, remembering the nipple covers Alice gave me earlier; my naked back exposed.
"Is Alice—"
"She is talking with Jasper," he says quickly.
He pulls the zipper down where I am able to reach and then some. He stops at my hips, where my underwear begins. The softness of his fingers, the backs of his knuckles, skirt up my exposed skin, soft as a whisper. He places my hair back where it was, covering some of my bare skin. I stay this way for many moments, reveling in the closeness, the heat of his breaths, his soft fingerprints against my delicate flesh. With eyes closed, I send him my feelings. I give this to him—what he's doing to me.
Edward doesn't move.
My dress fitting freer after being loosened in the back, I turn and glance up at him. He doesn't hide himself from me at this moment. Piercing eyes, a soft smirk, the way he studies my face… I can see him with the same ease that he can hear me. A visual of the way he sees me in this moment paints itself in my mind. My eyes glance up at his, my mouth pouty, a glow upon my skin as he studies me.
There are no words to describe what it's like to live a moment, and, at the very same time, see myself through another's eyes. I see him, and yet I can see me looking at him.
Edward's fingers reach to tuck my loosened hair behind my ear.
"My sister will be coming in here," he says, touching the end of my hair he just tucked behind my ear. "You must know something."
"What is it?"
"Jasper was injured. I wanted to make sure you were safe in this house before letting you know. Jasper wanted to keep it from you, but I feel you need to know the truth."
I nod in appreciation. "Injured how?"
"His arm—" Edward stops suddenly, lifts his head as if something has caught his attention. Edward takes a step closer, closing any distance between us as he drops his hand from the end of my hair. He whispers slowly, swirling the words in his mouth as he says them, "you look absolutely—"
A knock on the door cuts him off.
No. No. No. No!
Finish, I beg with my eyes, but he steps away with the same soft smirk adorning his face.
"Belle?" Alice calls, knocking on the door.
Edward reaches for my hand the moment the doorknob twists. His lips on the back of my hand, a kiss fit for a Princess, and then he's gone the exact moment Alice bursts through. Tears stream down her face. It's an agonizing whiplash going from such a light, sensual moment with Edward to his sister bursting into my room, crying on my shoulder.
"Jasper—" she cries loudly.
"I heard," I tell, shushing her. "He's okay," I remind her.
"He—he—he tried," she cries again.
"Alice, it's okay."
"His arm," she whimpers, sitting on my bed, pulling me down with her. "Royce attacked him. His arm—"
"His arm what, Alice?"
"It's broken. He had to be transferred to Court 3. He needs…" Alice cries louder, tugging on me harder. "He needs surgery."
There's confusion; a clouding, a chaos in my mind. Edward never got to finish what happened to Jasper, and this must be it.
It is not a surgery. He needs a transfusion to speed his recovery, Edward explains tersely, as if he's annoyed by his sister's dramatics. It isn't required, but I'm asking him to do so. For Alice's sake. Please send my darling sister upstairs so I may explain.
"Alice, I think you need to talk to Edward. He knows more than I do," I explain to her. "He's in his room."
Alice nods, asks if I'm okay, and leaves just as abruptly as she entered.
Take your bath, Belle.
Why? Are you planning on spying on me? I tease, ensuring all doors are locked before heading into the bathroom.
Is that an invitation? he asks playfully.
Too shy to respond whether he's serious or teasing, I shut down. My block lifts as I strip from the heavy dress. The beads and jewels crash against the tile floor.
I dip into the bath slowly, letting the warmth heat my skin painfully. Memories of Edward's fingers ghosting against my skin, in my hair, and unzipping my dress flit through my mind. It's a welcomed distraction. For once, I don't question what it means or what I want it to mean. I simply let the memory exist. Once I'm submerged, I gently pull the nipple coverings off and lay back completely naked, enjoying the natural relaxation.
I lull my head back, the scalding water hushing me into a soft sleep. I'm in and out of dreams while I soak.
I'm nearly asleep again when another memory passes through my mind. It's broken like a shattered mirror, but all the large pieces lay near each other.
He's young, smiling, playing catch with Jasper outside. It jumps to inside Jasper's home, his mom laughing at the boys as they eat lunch. And then Jasper's walking out the door, but Edward's stuck in his seat as if he's glued.
Apprehension flows through my blood. These are his thoughts, his memories, his feelings. Is Edward sending this to me?
Jasper's mom is between his legs. Edward's fighting against invisible restraints. Her hand slips into his pants. She smiles at his pain.
I thrash my head around, pulling myself from the tub like I've awoken from a terror.
But the feeling doesn't stop.
It sits heavily on my chest like an anchor.
Edward, I whisper.
Nothing.
Not even a tingle.
Something isn't right.
I stand and wrap a robe around myself, pulling it tight against my waist. The memory plays in vivid detail as she unzips his pants. He fights but can't move. He opens his mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. I'm crawling out of my room, into the hallway, up to the third floor. There's fear and agony colored in this memory with such vivacity it blinds me.
Edward, I gasp, clutching the banister as I make my way upstairs.
By the time I get to his room, my hand on the door, the memory picks up speed.
He cries out, pushing against something he cannot escape. She laughs from below, pulling his erection from his pants. He pleads silently.
I pull my block up, pushing this violation away before I can see the most private side of him.
My hands against the door, I pound feverishly before he rips it open. I fall at his feet, gasping for the breath I've lost in the memory.
"Edward," I pant, my hands on his legs as if it happened to me. As if I were the victim.
Strong hands pull me up and inside his bedroom. Glancing around, I notice the bedding peeled back, his shirt ripped off, hair tugged in every single direction possible. He was asleep.
A thick coat of sweat covers him, and he's gasping just as deeply as I am. Was he… was that…
Did you see it? He asks into my block, unable to form the words. Dark eyes casted upon me rain fury and shame upon me.
Yes, I tell him honestly. The memory, with his mom, and when she… and how she… and then… but I can't finish it.
Edward has lived with this nightmare for too long. No one knows the truth. He lost a friend over it; he nearly lost his sister… this woman…
We stand next to his bed long enough to catch our breath. He calms marginally, enough to breathe through his nose now. Deep eyes still stare into mine. His shame eats at him, but he doesn't shy away from me. I don't know what to make of it.
I'm sorry you had to—
I interrupt his thoughts, using the same words he's thrown at me so many times. My hand lifts to cup his cheek. The stubble scratches against my palm. "You do not ever need to be sorry, Edward."
His hand encircles my wrist, but he doesn't pull away. It's a closeness he's never endured. I can see it in his eyes—wild and desperate even in the darkened room—that he's never experienced a shared nightmare before.
This Bond, whatever it means, accidental or not, is appreciated. In this room, under the heat of revelation, there is a true and constant bond that grows. It's a bond of trust, of security, of honesty. It's a bond friendship, companionship, of fragility in each other. He shows me his most vulnerable side, and I give him compassion he's pushed away for far too long.
We stand like this for a few moments as we both come down. His breathing returns to normal, his eyes a lighter shade of green, but his grip remains on my wrist. His delicate touch doesn't surprise me, but it does overwhelm me. He stares so intensely that if we don't move, I might just—
A piano catches my eye in the very corner of this large room.
"Play for me?" I ask.
Edward releases my hand and points to an oversized chair in the back corner of his room. From this angle, I can see his side profile as he seats himself at the piano and rests his fingers lightly over the keys. They play, testing the sound, sending soft notes into the heavy room before he pauses.
"You must know," he says before beginning, his eyes focused on ivory, "that you are…" he trails off softly, considering, before finishing his thought boldly, "extraordinary."
Edward's breathing has returned to normal, but there's a thick static that settles around us in his bedroom. I want more than anything for him to expand. Given what just happened, I'm itching to know why he thinks so.
He gives me no chance to respond as his fingers sink onto the keys and music plays around us. There's a melody that builds slowly, the volume follows suit as his fingers pick up the pace. His body rolls with the tone, and I finally let the butterflies migrate anywhere they want inside.
I pull my block down. I'm sick of hiding.
As are you, I whisper to him.
~!~
Edward plays three songs before I excuse myself to sleep. He sees me down the steps and to my room.
"Will you be okay?" I whisper.
He nods.
"How often do you get those?"
Edward looks down at me, unblinking. "More often when I'm in Court 4."
"Are you sure you're—"
Edward doesn't let me finish.
"Goodnight, Lovely," he whispers, pushing open the bedroom door before heading down the steps.
I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
~!~
The next morning, everyone gathers around the outdoor table like last night didn't exist. Carlisle and Esme dressed in pajamas, Alice giggling on her phone, Edward feeding Claire a piece of bread from his plate.
"Good morning, Sweetheart," Esme says with a smile.
She scoots over so I can sit in the chair between her and Edward.
The sun's already shing, striking my eyes painfully.
"Hi," I say groggily.
I know I don't look as bad as I feel. I made sure to brush my hair and teeth and splash some water over my face before coming downstairs.
"Did you hear the news?" Alice asks, setting her phone down on the table.
"Uh, no," I say. What I really want to ask is how would I have known, but I can imagine the arch of her perfect eyebrow as she skeptically looks from me to her brother and back to me.
"One of the Royals is coming today."
"Today?" I ask, taken aback. "Here? For what?"
Edward pushes a piece of paper in front of me. It's addressed to no one. That's odd.
Please prepare for your Royal Highness as He will be arriving promptly at noon.
"Why?" I ask, looking directly at Edward.
His tired eyes tell me everything I need to know.
Royce.
A/n: thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter for Edward's POV! I'm hoping everyone enjoyed this chapter just as much. This is probably one of my favorite chapters I've written thus far. Inspo pics (including the beautiful white gown Belle wore to dinner!) are on instagram at eepwrites!
The Song to Story Challenge brought to you by facebook group It All Started with Twilight has a new prompt for our May Challenge. Submissions will be accepted through May 31st!