The Portrait and The Letter
Chapter 9
"The Lion of the North," she worded out, mostly to herself. She could feel his eyes digging holes into her very being and Bella stared back, not caring at all that there was someone else in the room and that they might at any moment be discovered. Who was this man, that wore the symbol of Edward Cullen?
Her heart tightened in her chest.
The intruder had once more left the study and without a word, the captain coaxed her out.
"Bear, prepare the west exit," he growled into the microphone of the earpiece as they rushed down the hall. He knew they had been discovered, otherwise Lord Ascham wouldn't have glared as long as he did on the small pile of dust the ledgers had left behind on the carpet next to the bottom shelf where Bella had dragged them out. "He knows."
"You should have left hours ago!" Carlisle growled back. Edward had never heard him so angry before.
"She found something."
They rounded a few other corners, the estate coming alive as the sun pushed on the horizon. It was past five in the morning and apparently, that was when the estate started coming alive. Edward hurried his step to such a point that they were jogging now, the voice in his ear expertly guiding him through the corridors through the sensors that had been placed there. He knew they would not stumble upon anyone this morning, even if their presence had been noted.
Bella was dragged by her wrist, and while Edward was jogging, she was practically running. She didn't fight against him, she didn't voice her discomfort, she could only think of the Lion pin and the words she had scribbled down from the ledgers.
In the blink of a second, she was pushed into another corner, a hand clamping over her mouth and the night at the Opera House came crashing down on her once more.
It had been the SCR captain there, that night, stumbling upon her drunken self. Bella was positive now. Chocolate-brown eyes looked up at him and behind the mask he saw the recognition in them, she had discovered him at last. He slowly removed his hand from her mouth, his eyes lingering over the lips while they slowly parted as if to say something. Edward was mesmerized by them, drawn in. He blamed it on the adrenaline and their perilous situation.
"Take a left by the stairs and down the western door, a window is opened. You'll have to sprint to the tree line when I say so, I need to help cut the cameras so that they don't see you," Edward heard in his ear.
He glanced down at her, his most pressing concern was to get her out safely, without them being discovered.
"Are we almost there?" she whispered.
He couldn't get over the complete trust she had placed in him, thinking her stupid for doing so yet strengthening the urge he had to protect her.
"This way," he urged as he gently took her wrist, hurrying down to the small set of stairs, taking a left and seeing a door. He couldn't chance it letting her get out alone. He heard footsteps coming from behind and the voice in his earpiece urging him to hide, but Edward knew there would be no time.
"Cut the lawn cameras now!" he growled as he quickened his pace, pulling Bella into his arms. He opened the door, seeing the window. "Run to the tree line, they'll meet you there!" he said to her.
She turned around, her eyes as big as saucers. "What about you?" she begged.
Without a word, he pushed her out and over the window frame just as he got the clear that the cameras had been cut. Meanwhile, he heard someone rushing after them, nearing the closed door to the little room.
Bella fell into some bushes, the world around her as if in slow motion. She didn't question him, she ran as fast as her legs could carry her to the trees at the edge of the lawn, bile rising in her mouth, the fear prevalent in her heart as she perceived the towering black iron fence, thinking this would be the end and she would be discovered along with her guardian. Just as she was about to fall on her knees, another black shadow came to meet her, the yellow patch prevalent on his uniform. He was bigger in stature than the others and with ease he slung her across his shoulder as he went to a section of the fence where some of the bars had been removed that she hadn't noticed before. They squeezed through and Yellow kept running, despite her fervent protests that they needed to go back for the colleague they had left behind. She had never been so frightened for anyone in her life, what would they do should they discover the captain? Still slung over the shoulder, she watched as the Ascham estate diminished while desperately clawing at the air as if wishing to go back.
Bella was dumped onto the ground, noting another SCR Agent, this one carried the blue patch. The other, red—or Fox as he was named by his teammates—was nowhere to be seen. The van had been hidden deeper in the small forest behind them. The SCR Director emerged from the forest, a snarl across his face. He exchanged a few quick words with them before kneeling before Bella.
"Where is he?" Bella asked in a small voice.
"He'll be fine," the Director muttered back. "What did you find?"
Bella wanted to stand up, but her legs were too weak still from the shock.
The Director shook his head. "We shouldn't have brought you along," he mumbled to himself.
Bella shakingly fished out a small notepad and handed it to him. His golden eyes trailed along the scribbles.
"Locations?" he asked.
"The first was Wilson's residence before he became mayor of Hayes, which was here, in Safeira. The second showcases his residence in Hayes."
The Director glanced down at her. He had expected detailing of people Wilson might have dealt with, a better trail to further investigate.
"At least I know what I'm doing," she spat back in a shaking voice, wondering what had happened to the captain. She found the strength in her legs and forced herself to stand, adjusting the black cap, her eyes wandering over the area. They were atop a small hill, looking down at the estate, shielded by trees and shrubbery. She couldn't make out what was going on down there, but it was a scuffle, of that she was certain.
Some more mumbles next to her indicated they were making ready to move. But Fox, Blue, and the captain were still nowhere to be seen. Had her insistence on checking out the study caused their eventual discovery? Had not the Director insinuated that whomever else was involved in this all could potentially be dangerous? A sense of dread overcame her the more she thought about it.
"Bear, take her back," the Director said to Yellow.
Bella protested as 'Bear' once more slung her over the shoulder and gently placed her in the back of the van.
"What about the others?"
She caught Bear by surprise by showing her concern for the rest of the team.
"Have faith," Bear said back to her, his voice a tad darker than the captain's, if that were even possible.
"We can't just leave them!" she urged, giant eyes staring as he slowly closed the doors of the van.
Bella settled back in her seat, staring emptily in front of herself. What if she had placed them all in peril now? She rested her face in her hands, pressing the palm of her hands into her eyes as she shivered.
She had been staring at the blank page of the Microsoft word document for the better part of five minutes. Bella rarely noticed the time ticking by as it did. The black line indicating where she should begin typing was blinking expectantly.
But she could only think of the captain. And she could only think of the new information she had gathered. She chewed her lip. There had been radio silence from the Director for a week now, she knew he was deliberately ignoring her because she had tried to call, twice.
And, in the early hours of the morning, Bella had remained awake, sitting up in bed as if expecting to see him in the corner, well and safe. A part of her suspected the worst, that he had been found out at Ascham's estate. Yet, nothing had been reported on the news—no headlines about the famed Ascham break-in, for surely such a thing would have taken over the current news cycle touching on nothing but Article 13. They said that in convening the Conventus again, it would be voted through and Victoria Fell would become the crown princess, destined to inherit the throne. Maybe, such things would have sparked her attention before, but now Bella had so much on her plate that she had to take one thing at a time.
She felt a pair of eyes resting on her suddenly and her own gaze darted up. She came face to face with a set of eyes hiding behind thick black rims, mysteriously gazing at her under the long black fringe.
"Oh, Mr. Jacoby," she mumbled, "I did not see you."
He walked in, sitting himself down behind the small desk that had been brought in for him, placing down a small stack of papers.
"Is everything alright, Ms. Dwyer?" There was a general tone of concern in his voice.
Bella glanced at him absentmindedly. She wanted nothing more than to confess her true feelings, her true sense of dread and dismay, as if something impactful was coming her way. The way her heart clenched foretold of something extraordinary slowly making itself into her life, that was at least what she liked to think. She could not deduce, from the way he looked at her, if he truly held a general concern for her wellbeing or if his question stemmed from interest because his line of work intermingled with hers.
She looked down as if remembering herself. "Quite so," she responded. Bella did not sound convincing.
He would not release her with his gaze. Bella had noted that when with her, Mr. Jacoby was always more direct, and less inclined to be as curt and short as he usually was with others. It did not take long before she sensed that he was about to say something else to her.
"You need coffee."
"Pardon?"
"I suggest the café at the edge of campus. Some fresh air would do you well too."
Bella's frown deepened. Did he want her to leave? It was only wanting, she supposed. She had been cooped up in her office since early that morning. Maybe he wanted it for himself. "I guess I do, need fresh air," she sighed, getting up and grabbing her purse. "Not that I've felt cooped up here or something but lately, and do not get me wrong Mr. Jacoby because I am usually not the one to be so distraught, but lately there have been some… personal things in my private life that—"
"You do not always need to cater to others, Ms. Dwyer."
She stopped herself at his remark, as if there was so much more hidden behind the meaning.
"I do not expect you back here later," he said.
Was he…was he giving her the clear to end the day early? It seemed so. Bella wordlessly slung the purse across her shoulder and headed for the door.
"Goodbye, Mr. Jacoby."
He looked down at his laptop. "Bye, Ms. Dwyer."
Bella walked in puzzled confusion to the café, pondering the finality of Jacoby's goodbye. Was he leaving soon? Why had he sent her out to get coffee and suddenly implied that she needed to enjoy the weather? It was so unlike him. She caught the sight of her reflection in the glass door leading into the coffee shop, looking haggard under the brilliant sun.
Bella ordered an iced coffee to go, thinking she might stroll around the campus grounds before heading home. She sipped the cold beverage through the paper straw, walking at a slow pace before sitting herself down under a cluster of trees on a white bench.
The exam period was over and, thus, the semester would also be. She was almost finished with her grading and in a week, she would be able to place all her time on the painting… if the Director ever picked up her calls. He, who earlier had been so adamant she played a part, now treated her little better than the dirt under his shoes. Was he angry that she had gotten them discovered by insisting they go to the study? Was she considered a liability now?
"Much on your mind?" a deep voice asked as a shadow blocked the sun.
Bella squinted as she looked up at the silhouette. He wore a white shirt and had a leather jacket slung across his shoulder. He wore a cap and pilot's glasses, but she recognized the charming smile.
"Didn't know you frequented the university," he said.
"I teach here," she responded automatically.
"May I?"
Bella stood up before he got a chance to sit down. "I was—I was just having some coffee." The plastic cup was empty, and she grimaced at the paradox of implementing paper straws when plastic cups were still in use by the café.
"Campus looks pretty empty, exams are over?" he asked her as she threw the cup into the bin next to the bench.
Bella's eyes trailed over the people leaving campus. Most students had now left for the summer as they delved further into June. June, her favorite time of year beckoned the warmer months that were to soon follow. There was a fresh fragrance in the air that Bella adored, and she almost flared her nostrils to inhale the scent of the nearby wisteria that toppled over the far-off wall by the picturesque café. The gentle breeze picked up a few stray locks that had escaped her ponytail.
"Yeah." She glanced over at him, taking him in from top to toe, considering the definition of his torso and arms hiding beneath the white tee. "Are you a student here?"
He smiled at her. "No, just visiting a friend and returning some books."
Bella smiled back. She truly didn't know what to ask of this man that had hit her with his bike, but a part of her wanted to continue the conversation, even if they didn't have reason to. Chance seemed to have thrown him into her path once more and Bella thought up an excuse to keep him speaking with her.
"I never got your name last time," she smiled back. "Though I should have asked, of course, it all happened so quickly, and I think I was still a little shaken and—
"Edward," he smiled back at her, the smile wider now as if he knew something she didn't. He almost seemed pleased that she didn't know his name, as if she hadn't recognized him.
Bella nodded.
"Listen, I feel awful for what happened the other day." He removed the sunglasses so that she might see his eyes. The thinning of his lips and upward motion of his shoulders did indicate some discomfort as he breached the subject.
Bella, who herself always felt uncomfortable when other people were uncomfortable felt the need to smooth the situation over. "Oh, don't worry about it! It was my fault for not looking when I crossed, and I got away without a scratch. Besides, your bike was the one that took the beating, not to mention that you could have gotten really injured and—"
"Ms. Dwyer," he cut her off, "You don't need to explain yourself." He blinked.
Bella's eyebrows shut up to her hairline as she pressed her mouth closed. Did he…did he just flirt with her? No, that couldn't be! Surely, she was just misreading him.
Flustered and struggling to form a sentence as she stared at this handsome stranger that had once again, by way of fate, come into her path. Bella tried to give him some semblance of a reply, but her words were clumsily strung together and her pitch slightly higher than she would have liked. But worst of all, to her great horror, was what she managed to form into a sentence.
"T-Then why…uhm…why did you…come here?" The awkward smile following that sentence must surely have been the final nail in the coffin of any other relationship ever forming between them, of that Bella was certain.
"Well, I thought that since I just happened to stumble upon you, and you didn't seem too busy, and I technically owe you for almost running you over I'd invite you to a bite to eat."
Bella was flabbergasted, a feeling she had previously only read in literature, but now came to understand the full literary meaning of.
"Me?" she squealed as she cleared her voice and repeated the question in a much lower tone.
"It's the least I could do." He seemed so sure of himself, without coming off as arrogant.
She eyed him curiously, considering the offer that was just given to her by a practical stranger.
"I was heading for some lunch anyway and wouldn't mind the company." He pointed at the university. "I have a friend who took a course here and was helping him with returning some books to the library," he explained again, but this time in more detail.
"You don't have to buy me lunch just because of an accident, really. I hope you're not feeling guilty about that!" she blurted out. She hadn't paid the accident much thought lately, but from his reaction to her it appeared as if it had been more on his mind than he let on.
"I really do feel awful about just running you over… but understand if you don't feel up to it." He was polite as he spoke, and it suddenly dawned on Bella that it sounded like she was turning him down.
Generally, Bella had the common sense not to accept lunch invitations from strangers. However, technically, they weren't strangers since she had met him before and now knew his name.
Edward.
Edward what? He hadn't given her a last name, part of her mind reasoned. But, surely, she could coax that out of him, another part of her argued.
"Oh no, no, I suck at communicating, clearly! I'd love to get lunch, very hungry," she said as she rubbed her stomach. Bella suddenly put a stop to that action once she realized how stupid she had to be looking in front of him. "But only if I can pay for it myself," she smiled awkwardly.
He put the glasses back on with a charming grin and they started walking away from the unusually empty campus. He led her down the road and toward the water, down a small touristy alley only to turn to another smaller alley where there was a hole-in-the-wall type of restaurant. It was somewhat filled with people and Bella feared they wouldn't be able to get seats, but whoever this guy was, he had a quick chat with the maître d', and they were led out to a terrace that overlooked a large part of the old harbor, with such breathtaking views that Bella had to stop to admire them. For so long she had lived in Safeira and had never known a place such as this.
They were seated and she read through the small menu, now once more uncomfortable with the stranger as she had no idea what kind of conversation they would strike. It was almost as if they were on a date.
He leaned back with a relaxed air, the cap still pulled low over his head. "What do you teach, Ms. Dwyer?"
"Art and history, although I specialize mainly in the symbolics in medieval and renaissance paintings and portraiture."
He seemed genuinely intrigued as he kept asking her about her work at the university. When they touched on the subject of exams, Bella got a look of relief.
"I am glad the semester will soon be over," she admitted, cutting into the smoked salmon she had ordered.
He nodded, his left hand slowly tapping on the tempered glass table. "Any plans for the summer?"
The question made Bella's face scrunch into a frown. "I always tell myself to take a few weeks and discover Angloa, but then I never have the time… side projects, you know."
He looked back at her, not continuing the conversation so Bella kept speaking, uncomfortable with the strange silence settling between them.
"I have my own thesis I should be working on, you know. And I have things I need to prepare for this fall. But I would love to visit my family by Castell, should I get the chance," she explained.
"A northerner," he stated with an expression she couldn't place.
Bella noted, once more, the coy smile.
"I believe spending so many years in the south has converted me and my accent."
"I would never have guessed."
"I moved right as I started university, almost ten years ago. It wasn't an easy decision to make. I would spend the semesters here and then live at home during the holidays and summer, mainly to work at restaurants or the local library. I'm from a rather small town outside of Castell, few ever leave. My mother was devastated as I told her but she supported me in the end. I think if I had not met Mia—one of my closest friends—when I moved here, I would probably have returned… She made me want to stay, made me see Safeira in a new light," Bella smiled.
"Was it only your friend making you want to stay?"
"Are you from Safeira?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.
"Yes, I'm afraid."
"I'm afraid? You sound like every other Safeiran I know that is determined to only see the worst in this place."
"It's Safeira, Ms. Dwyer, there isn't much more offered here you couldn't find in Wessport… it is a small city compared to other European capitals."
"Safeira has the charm of a small town woven into the fabric of a metropolitan city, that is why I like it so much. And it is close to Cadherra and Sorossa, of course."
"Of course?"
Bella leaned back. "Something has always drawn me to those provinces, especially Cadherra."
"When did you visit last?"
"Would it be awful to say that I have only been to Cadherra once, and it was to Coldwick?"
"Never even been to Hayes or Raven's Grove?" he asked. Bella wondered where the line of questions stemmed from. Was he fishing for something or was he truly intrigued?
"Maybe after I am done with my thesis, I'll go," she answered dreamily, knowing it was still a while away, she wasn't scheduled to defend her thesis for another year or two, if she made the time for it. Not that going to Hayes was expensive, but her place was in Safeira until the General's painting found its way to the public again. The Director had promised as much to her, and she would not back down until she saw it come through.
"Hayes is beautiful in summer," Edward answered. The coy smile was replaced with something more genuine as he, for once, seemed to forget himself.
They settled on speaking a little more, the topic they touched on the most was on Cadherra and Hayes. Whenever Bella tried to inquire about him, he would usually give stiff and short answers. She didn't notice, of course, how he changed the subject whenever focusing on him. By the time the lunch service was over, both felt that the conversation had not finished, and it was only wanting that he should ask her to grab a small drink with him.
They were each drinking a lemonade and walking down the old pier as the sun slowly lowered on the sky, the afternoon light casting its golden sheen upon them, and Bella realized that they must have spent hours talking.
"Would it be weird of me, to wonder why you wanted to grab lunch today?"
Her question caught him off guard with its forwardness. They had spent so many hours talking that they had strangely grown comfortable in each other's company. He attested it further to her ability to make him feel relaxed ever since he had first gotten to know her. She had no qualms about sharing her thoughts and her mouth did wander at times, but he found it strangely endearing and comforting about her. There was no façade from her side, what he saw was what he got. And the way she lit up as she spoke of things she enjoyed or that intrigued her had him want to hear her speak more. She spoke of her interests with a passion he had never heard anyone else ever express before.
Thus, when she now asked such an upfront question, he was inclined to answer her truthfully, that he had wanted to speak with her this way since the first time he had met her. But he could not. He had asked to grab lunch because he knew that Edward with-no-last-name and Isabella Dwyer had the luxury of stumbling upon each other as they had without rising any eyebrows—at least most eyebrows, and because he knew he would thus be able to stifle the curiosity this woman had kindled in him.
"As I said, I wanted to express my apologies for almost running you over," he said.
Her shoulders sank and her expressive eyes dulled. "Oh." She seemed to ponder his answer as she slowed down.
He met her pace, discarding the paper cup that still had half of the sour lemonade.
"You know," she said as she looked up at him shyly, "I've told you all about me and I could probably not string together even a sentence with all the things I know about you."
"Not a lot to say about me, honestly."
"You don't even believe that," she laughed at him.
He shrugged. "It's the truth, I don't know what to tell you, I'm a pretty boring guy," he blinked.
"Anyone who finds medieval and renaissance art interesting could barely be constituted as boring," she chuckled.
He put his hands in his pockets and for the first time she got a sense that he grew uncomfortable, as if he truly wanted to tell her something he couldn't. "Mostly, I don't do a lot of stuff during the days," he admitted, "besides riding around and almost hitting women with my bike."
"Lucky me you have poor aim," Bella deadpanned. It caused them both to burst out into a comfortable chuckle. He looked at her, his eyes creasing at the edges as the laugh never truly died away and she felt naked under his gaze, not able to put her finger on what touched her with it.
Edward took her in as she was, enjoying the honesty in their conversation—the lack of smoke and mirrors, only them in all their uncustomed glory. She wore her chestnut locks in a messy ponytail, some strands framing her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were framed by dark and full lashes, her cheeks rosy from their walk, her lips full and plump. He lingered longer on the lips. He noticed she wore quite tall heels yet hadn't signaled her discomfort as they had walked for a while.
"I need to get going," he heard himself say, and the words came hitting down on them both as if breaking the strange spell which had enraptured them since lunch.
The small frown between her eyebrows spoke of confusion but then of understanding. He had fulfilled his duty and stifled any feeling of guilt he might have had from almost running her over. Bella had hoped he would at least ask for her number or any of her social media, but if he had not offered, she wouldn't make the effort either—even if she wanted to get to know him better, just to stifle her curiosity. She didn't want to waste time getting to know or chasing a man that had only wanted to show a kind gesture to her but did not wish to form any deeper relationship. She wasn't ready for that again.
Thus, she extended her hand. "Thank you for showing me a new side to Safeira, Edward," she smiled. He took it, his larger hand dwarfing hers.
"I wish you all the best… for this summer and fall."
Somehow, Bella got the feeling that there was an underlying meaning to his words she couldn't quite place. She nodded, her smile strange as she looked up the street, knowing there was a tram station waiting for her.
Bella started walking to it without another word, somehow hoping he would stop her, just so that he might ask for her contact information. She, on the other hand, wasn't brave enough to do so.
Something sounded in his ear as he watched her walk away. "You just made it complicated, didn't you?" a dark voice said in his earpiece.
Edward looked after her, removing the cap and running his hand through his hair. "Shut up, Jasper." He sighed. "She's all yours, look after her well." He had hoped to have at least a few more moments to talk but nearing her now and continuing the afternoon together would no doubt seem odd considering they had only to her knowledge seen each other only once before.
Not knowing if he would see her again as Edward, he would have to go back and watch her as an SCR agent, disguised again, unable to speak with her as he had just spoken.
Edward's shoulders lowered. "Carlisle doesn't need to know about this."
"He probably already does—"
"That's an order," Edward muttered back.
"Yes, sir."
Angloa could boast of quite the array of incidents that would go down in history that had taken place the last few weeks. The rediscovering of the general's portrait to its disappearance to the invoking of Article 13 and, now, to its passing. It was a radiant morning in June, with nigh a cloud in the sky, a gentle breeze wafting through the picturesque capital as it awoke to the news. For the entirety of the night, the Conventus had been deliberating, Abigail de la Cereda had been at the thick of it and as the doors to the inner chamber finally opened to the public, she was the first to step out and deliver the news.
Article 13 had passed and Victoria Fell was now the new crown princess.
The liberal Angloans celebrated as the news traveled the country. Their new crown princess was known to be as apt as her mother when it came to government, but she was known to withhold the patience of her grandmother. Victoria had inherited the best qualities from her parents and grandparents, and she had learned without losing her humility in the process. The lack of presumption that she was ever to inherit the throne had added to her character and she humbly accepted the task now bestowed upon her by her own mother and the Conventus. By noon, she was preparing to address the nation, as was only wanting. Angloans of all walks of life were glued to their screens as they watched the crown princess take the podium outside of Aldea.
She stared down the flashing cameras of the reporters as if recomposing herself, her words having been chosen carefully no doubt. And when she spoke, it was as if a collective breath was released throughout the country, as if they knew a safe future had now been secured for them. At least, in the eyes of the more liberal parts of Angloa. Her speech had invigorated them to believe that a breath of fresh air was descending upon their nation, an era of prosperity and strengthened democracy. Victoria did not shy away from that she indeed was for the idea of giving the Conventus more power, of bestowing more checks and balances to the system that would account for the head of state as well. While men like Mr. Barker would shout and claim that this was the end to Angloa as they knew it, Abigail de la Cereda celebrated the passing of Article 13 as a victory for democracy in Angloa.
And, to all this, Angloans could not help but shift their focus on the prince who had lost his crown, and on the underlying presumption that a rule under him, would have been devastating. Frankly, it was almost embarrassing how much his sister's future rule was hailed and his had been dreaded.
That was what went through Leonore's mind as she watched the news cycle on the TV. She took a sip of her bourbon as the sun settled on the sky. Less than twelve hours had passed and Angloa was still abuzz with the news, the painting of the general seemingly forgotten. Next to her sat Athar, sipping on a glass as well. He, on the other hand, looked more preoccupied than his queen.
"You knew this would happen, didn't you," he mumbled as he watched the replay of Victoria's speech.
"She will make an excellent queen, much better than myself."
"Her statements are dangerous," Athar interceded. "Your son needs some form of security now, after everything that has happened."
Leonore, fuming, turned around and harshly set down the glass. "I have told him constantly these past fifteen years that his actions would hold consequences. Has he changed? No! Has he made any efforts to better himself? No!" she said. Leonore settled back. "As a mother, I will never forgive what I have done, not that Samuel can ever know this for surely my grief would bring nothing but joy to him," she murmured to herself.
"You give him too little credit," Athar sighed.
Leonore looked at her friend, allowing some of her grief to shine through. "I have taken his birthright… what gave him his identity. I will not ignore the implications this might hold." She looked down. "Have… have you spoken with him?"
Athar shook his head. "He will see no one save my son."
Leonore gave a sad smile as she turned to the TV again. "I never imagined myself as a particularly good parent. Never did I think I would find myself here." She closed her eyes harshly. "Tis good, at least, that he has your son."
"Samuel will pull through, ma'am. It will be difficult for him." Athar grew pensive. "I suppose I should start familiarizing myself more closely with Her Royal Highness," he began, finding it strange to say the words. "Never did I believe that the reign of someone named Victoria Fell would ever come to be so welcomed in Angloan history."
Leonore shook her head. "None of us did."
Samuel Fell looked out the window of his townhouse residence, the photographers and reporters had settled for the night. He had left Aldea as quickly as the news had reached him, wanting to be away from the palace and everything it represented. Those in his closest proximity tip-toed around him as if walking on glass, waiting for him to lash out at them.
He had kept to his rooms for the entire day in downtown Safeira. He had allowed no one to see him, not even Nigel Athar.
A knock on the door had him glance at it sourly. "I'm not hungry," he growled.
"I brought Benny's Pizza," came a familiar voice from the other side.
Samuel perked up as the handle turned and a familiar face stared back at him. His heart raced in his chest as his friend entered with two cartons of pizza, a six-pack of beers, and a smile on his face.
He hadn't seen him for a few weeks, rumors were that the younger Athar had left the country. He put down the food and removed the leather biker's jacket and black helmet.
"I see you came incognito," Samuel said dryly.
"Can't give the reporters a field day," came the reply, causing a slight snort to escape Samuel, despite himself.
"Does Athar know you're here?"
"Father rarely keeps track."
Samuel raised an eyebrow. "So, come here to gloat over my demise, to tell me 'I told you so'? I would think no less if you did."
Athar's son shrugged, sighing at Samuel's tart tone.
"I came to see a friend in need, Sam."
"What can I say," Samuel shrugged as he opened a beer handed to him. "Resolute and without a throne."
He sat down next to his friend in front of the 19th-century fireplace, his lips in a thin line.
"Where have you been, man?" Samuel asked, almost accusingly as his friend hung his head. When he looked up, an apologetic look invaded his eyes.
"I'm here now."
Had it been anyone else, Samuel would have dismissed him, would have put on the mask and braved on. But with someone he had known practically all his life, he let his true emotions of uncertainty and fear shine through.
"I never thought she would do this." Samuel stared into the empty fireplace, taking a sip of his beer. "But I will have it again."
"Article 13 went through, Sam."
"And it can be undone."
"You think it wise? Careful of whom you get into bed with."
Samuel glared at his friend. "For thirty years I was brought up for one purpose, to inherit the crown, and in one night she took it away from me. Do you think I would ever have let this happen?"
"Sam… don't tell me you've gone and done something stupid."
Samuel shrugged. "Victoria will, like her namesake, have to fight if she wishes to keep her throne."
There was a mysterious charm to the Queen's Gardens at night. Located just off the back of Aldea, not accessible unless holding an invitation for the evening's festivities, they were indeed a sight to behold. The gardens were inspired by the palace gardens of Versailles, perfectly manicured hedges and bushes coming together in geometrical shapes, several small reflecting pools and bubbling fountains were the picturesque backdrop to the evening's ball. Wisteria in purple and white toppled over the sapphire-painted roof of the quaint gazebo that was the center of tonight's festivities.
Mia, ever the party girl, had spoken of the event for weeks. Next to the Midsummer Masque in Adelton Hall, or the Summer Gala in Aldea later in July, tonight was her third most anticipated event of the summer. The fragrance of the lilac bushes and wisteria wafted through the evening air, the live orchestra was playing in the back as the elite of Angloa mingled on the vast wooden floor of the gazebo. The champagne flowed like water, and it seemed a thousand lights had been lit for the evening, shining like golden stars amongst them.
Bella felt out of place at the Queen's annual summer opening. Every June 5th, Leonore Fell would welcome summer with a large event, as she had for the past 30 years. The day after, the press and tabloids would rage about the gowns and suits worn this year, like it was te red carpet to the Oscars. Bella was not surprised that Mia kept getting invited to these places. However, Bella almost felt like an intruder as she spotted several known faces in the crowd. This was the kind of party Mike would attend—always without her.
The party was only formal dress, and despite it, the guests dressed in the most exquisite and extravagant ensembles Bella could ever come to think of. Mia was there as part of the fashion world to network and take note of the latest designs. Bella recognized the newly appointed PM, Abigail de la Cereda, she spotted Nigel Athar and others from the high nobility. There were famous stage play actors, great dames of the opera and theater, movie stars and socialites.
And then there was her.
Her attendance at the summer opening had been spontaneous. Mia's date had, in the last second, ditched her and thus Bella had been asked to come. Really, it was more like a plea on Mia's part. But, being the good friend that she was, Bella had accepted. Procuring a fitting dress for the evening had not been difficult for Mia. Bella now walked down the perfectly curated alleyway of hedges toward the gazebo in a lavender gown in chiffon. The midi dress flowed freely around her mid-calf; her step hesitant in the matching open-toed heels. Mia had on a more risqué number in vibrant red for the evening, as usual, sporting a plunging neckline and open back.
"You look gorgeous tonight," Mia smiled as both friends approached the gazebo.
"Yeah, yeah," Bella muttered. "I promised to be your arm candy, just don't have me trying to actually hold a conversation with these people.
"If anything, you would know what to talk about, darling," Mia tsked.
"They would find my academic self rather stale in comparison."
Mia turned to her and sighed. "You are at the Queen's Garden, at one of the most coveted parties of Angloan high society besides the Midsummer Masque or the Summer Gala. I know you've been feeling down for the last few weeks." Bella was about to protest when Mia rose a hand. "I'm not going to presume to know what it is about…" The pause made Bella's lips thin. Mia suspected it had been her encounter with Mike, whom Mia assured Bella was not attending. But Bella wanted to assure her friends that it was anything but.
"Work has been stressful."
Mia placed a caring hand on her friend's arm. "You know you can always come to me."
Bella looked down. "Don't get me wrong," she mumbled out into the night air, her eyes growing distant as if reliving a melancholic memory. "I'd like there to be someone…" she admitted. Her air of resignation made Mia refrain from further inquiries. Bella raised her head again, more resolute. "But for the first time in a long time, I find myself at peace in a way I never could… with Mike."
"Well," Mia began as she took Bella's hand in her own, "the night is young, and so is summer. I think this season will bring about many surprises."
Bella chuckled as they approached the gazebo.
"Have you thought about what you'll do the rest of this summer?" Mia inquired out of nowhere.
Bella arched a questioning eyebrow. Was Mia up to something again? "I'll probably work on my thesis here, in Safeira."
Mia stared at her, and Bella knew she was trying to hold something back. "Didn't you say you knew how to dance the pavane?"
Bella furrowed her brows at the strange question. "Yeah?"
The answer seemed to satisfy Mia, who didn't continue her line of questioning further. Thus, Bella accompanied Mia like the good date that she was, providing excellent arm candy as her friend proceeded to work—networking and establishing new connections. After a while, Bella was released to freely roam the gardens.
She had not attended many parties as extravagant as this one and Bella now saw the allure of them. As the night beckoned on the horizon, the sun sending its last few orange rays before disappearing, Bella settled on a bench in the middle of a wisteria tunnel. She took a deep breath, the melancholy tune of violins playing in the distance.
Without warning, a shadow blocked the light of the nearby solar ground light. She looked up with a frown.
"Is this seat taken?"
He smelled of the sea, she thought. There was a salty undertone intermingled with wood and sage. She liked it.
"Edward?" she blurted out as she smiled awkwardly.
The wisteria tunnel was desolate, the other guests hovering around the gazebo. He sat down, a half-drunken glass of champagne in his left hand as he unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt. He wore a deep blue suit, the cut was expensive, that much she knew. Her eyes glazed over the ensemble. Underneath he had a black shirt. He was handsome, objectively, and subjectively. Something about him—who had yet to say anything else—suddenly drew her in inexplicably. Bella wondered if it was the allure of the night, or the inviting scent of his cologne or perhaps the aura he exuded—that of a laid-back acceptance.
"Enjoying the party?" His voice was deep, smooth like honey and brushed her eardrums like velvet.
"Can't say I am," she started with sinking shoulders, growing nervous when she found his eyes cutting into her. She hadn't been this nervous in his presence before. He had turned the entire way to face her head on and the sudden complete newfound attention only made her more nervous.
"I mean, it is a great party, I rarely come to these things, but my friend Mia insisted I come with her when her date couldn't make it. Mia is my friend; you've probably seen her. She was the one wearing the gorgeous red lace dress, the one with the open back? Well, she wanted me to wear a similar one in black and I for one would never—that is to say, I'd be too uncomfortable in something like that and—"
Bella promptly stopped herself as she found the corner of his lips tugged upward.
He leaned back, the smirk growing.
His eyes glittered. "Nervous?"
Bella swallowed, convinced that he had heard it as well.
"I didn't know I had that effect on you."
Oh, she thought… he was very well aware of his looks. From the way his dark copper locks toppled over his forehead to the defined jaw and boyish grin, he had classically good looks that would make any girl melt. She wanted to defend herself, to lie and say that it was not him.
"Don't get too carried away," she said through the growing blush, quickly shutting down that direction of the conversation. Bella looked toward the gazebo and the crowd it housed. "Lately, and for whatever strange reason, I've been finding myself in new and alien situations I never thought I would be in…not in a million years." She surprised herself with the sudden change of topic.
Her honesty had his eyes widen slightly—as if he had not expected it. "Sounds like a lot happened since we had lunch... has it?"
Her face lit up at the sincere question. "Only what I did not care to bother you with."
"You could never bother me, Ms. Dwyer."
His cheeky and flirtatious final statement completely went over her head.
"I didn't think you'd frequent these kinds of things."
"Because I don't walk around with a stick up my but like everyone else here?" he leaned slightly forward, a playful tug of his lip revealing he was messing with her.
"You don't strike me as that sort," she answered openly.
"The sort?"
Bella looked down with a blush, almost as if she didn't want to continue wandering down the path of their current conversation, but Edward wouldn't let her get away that easily.
"You know, down to earth… genuine… unpretentious and… and kind." She looked up almost as if ashamed she had said the words. But to him, they managed to take his breath away.
"That's how you perceive me?"
Bella shrugged. "I've only met you three times now, once you almost ran me over, the second you invited me to lunch and now—here we are." She leaned in conspiringly. "I have been known to be a horrible judge of character, you know."
"I agree," he blinked.
"That I'm a horrible judge of character?" she frowned, her eyebrows knitted together in what Edward found to be the most charming expression she had produced yet.
"Only time will tell that, Ms. Dwyer…but your perception of the people attending this party isn't too far off..." He glanced over at her. "You know, I still can't wrap my head around why you would waste your precious vacation time on going to Hayes."
She noticed how he had put aside the glass of champagne, as if more intently wanting to converse with her.
Her heart warmed as she thought of Hayes. "Hayes has always held a special place in my heart… the history, the people, the landscape, the architecture… Raven's Grove and all the secrets it has housed for the last five hundred years…" she sighed, almost as if she were there. When Bella faced Edward again, she was taken in by his sincere smile. It was as if he silently agreed with her.
"You describe it like you have seen it a million times."
Their conversation fizzled out, there was no awkward need to fill out the silence and they settled back into it comfortably, as if they had always been so comfortable in each other's presence. She didn't think to ask more about him, nor did he and both appeared to like it that way. Bella was convinced that she would never meet Edward again, deducing from the circles he frequented, and it saddened her somewhat. Yet their conversation had been pleasantly honest, he had somehow managed to drag out some of the most sincere yearnings in her in a span of a few minutes than Mike had in a year and she found that alluring.
She stood up once she spotted Mia. Bella turned to him and extended a hand. "It's been nice talking to you again, Edward."
He took her hand and rose to stand next to her. "I wouldn't mind doing it again soon."
Bella's lips thinned. She might not know what connections Edward had to this world, but she was hesitant to step foot in it again after what had happened with Mike. And while she reasoned Edward might not be Mike, she didn't think she could take that chance again.
"I uhm… I need to get going," Bella mumbled. His hand was warm, engulfing hers entirely. In the act of standing, she caught another whiff of his cologne. The top of his collarbone was exposed beneath the unbuttoned shirt, and she hoped the night's darkness did most in hiding her expanding blush.
He squeezed her hand. It was not in a flirtatious way, it was genuine, humble. The genteel smile coupled with it made Bella grow warm. A buzzing sound made him fish out a phone from his suit pocket, look at it and then apologetically look at her. "Duty calls, I'm afraid," as he pressed the green button and placed the phone next to his ear while walking away.
Bella stared after him, her brows knitting together.
"Are you for real?" a voice suddenly squealed behind her.
Bella jumped in place, her eyes wide as saucers from the scare as she came face to face with Mia. She could have sworn Mia had been on the other side of the garden just a few moments prior.
"Mia!" Bella chastised. "You scared me!"
Mia looked at Edward, her smile growing as he rounded the corner. "Do you have any idea who you were just chatting with so casually?"
"Were you spying on us?"
"I didn't want to interfere!" Mia tsked.
"Oh my god, you were spying on us!" Bella exclaimed accusingly.
Mia ignored her and looked at the now empty walkway. "So you didn't recognize him?"
Bella frowned, her heart pounding harder in her chest. Should she have? Had she just insulted the guy because she hadn't recognized him?
"I… uhm no…"
"I can't believe you, Bella!"
"Who was he?"
"Please tell me you didn't just have a flirty conversation with Edward Athar without recognizing him!"
Bella's eyes widened as she too now focused on the walkway. "A-Athar?"
Mia's smug smile spoke a thousand words. "And you definitely caught his attention."
A/N: Thank you very much for the reviews on the last chapter. I hope you enjoyed this one :)
Cheers!
Isabelle