Chapter 17
Clover and Amos strolled through the market together, talking about everything and nothing all at once. Amos wished—not for the first time—that he wasn’t the crown prince, that he didn’t carry a kingdom’s future on his shoulders.
His life had never been his own. Hell, he couldn’t even hold Clover’s hand in public without people thinking he was flaunting his mistress under Jennifer’s nose.
“There’s the seamstress,” Clover said, interrupting his thoughts. “Are you coming in, or waiting out here?”
He opened the door and waved her inside. “I’ll sit and check in with Roland to see how he and Amelia are.”
Clover’s shoulders slumped. “I’m going to miss Amelia.”
“How may I help you today, Your Grace?” Vetta, the seamstress asked. She was around Alice’s age, but where Alice was sweet, Vetta was ornery and prickly as a cactus.
Amos led Clover to the chairs near the closest wall. “Vetta, do you mind locking the door? We’ll just be a moment.” Vetta was a higher-up in the Hydra. It was incredible how much information and gossip a seamstress overheard.
Amos directed his attention back to his mate. “You can visit as often as you want.”
“And tell her what? That I’m a traveling baker?” She dropped into a chair and rubbed her forehead. “I know we’ll think of something. I’m just sad. She’s my best friend.”
Amos frowned. “I’m your best friend.”
Clover looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “We haven’t spoken in four years. You’re not my best friend.”
His mouth flattened. “I will be.”
Sighing, she stood. “Tell Eddy I said hi. I’m going to order clothes so we can get out of here.”
Leaning back against the wall, Amos closed his eyes and reached down the bond. “What are you doing?”
Roland’s surroundings appeared in Amos’ mind. A snowy village bobbed with every step Amelia took. “You let her carry you in her pocket again?” Amos groaned.
“It’s warmer in here,” Roland replied. “Your sister is on her way home from the library. It’s freezing.”
“Has she said anything about Clover being gone?”
“Last night, she sat in the common room of their boarding house with me and her book, and told me she wished Clover had said goodbye in person.” The fox sounded furious. “You sent her a friend for years and now you’re stealing Clover away. Other than me, Clover is all she has. It’s cruel.”
“Clover my mate,” Amos reasoned. “I don’t want to be without her for another five years.”
“Then you never should’ve sent her,” the familiar clipped. Amos and Roland were rarely at odds with each other, and never had the animal been this angry.
“There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could take it back and keep her here,” he agreed, wanting to bash his head against a wall. Roland knew this. He knew how much Amos wanted and needed Clover and how much he cared about his sister. “I was a stupid kid who made a mistake.”
“I’m sorry, Amos,” Roland said finally. “I love Amelia, and Clover is all she has. I’d be a terrible pet if I didn’t fight for her.”
“First you’re wearing clothes and riding in pockets, now you’re calling yourself a pet,” Amos grumbled. “Have you no shame?”
“Say what you will, but I live a very comfortable life.” He could feel Roland’s haughtiness down the bond.
He chuckled despite himself. “I’ll be in touch later. Be safe, and call for me if anything happens.”
“Goodbye, Amos.”
If their bond were a door, Roland would’ve slammed it in his face. He appreciated that his familiar was attached to his sister, but a little understanding would be nice.
The shop came back into focus when Roland cut their connection, and he unfolded himself from the chair to find his mate.
“She’ll be out shortly,” Vetta said, appearing from the back. “We took her measurements and picked out different styles. She’s changing into pre-made clothes I had on hand.
Clover pushed open the dressing-room curtain and stepped out in a sleeveless top and fitted pants tucked into her boots. “The pants are a little snug, but they’ll do,” she told Vetta. Noticing Amos, she smiled. “How is everyone?” Her gaze flicked to Vetta.
Vetta was high in the ranks, but not high enough to know about Amelia.
“I’ll tell you when we leave.” He pulled out a sack of coins, but Clover swatted his hand away and handed over her own. Amos glared at the offending bag in her hand. “I’m paying for your clothes.”
Vetta froze, her hand hovering over Clover’s bag of coins. Clover looked at him and smiled—the expression sharp enough to warn him off. “I’m paying.”
He shoved his sack of coins back into his pocket. “When will her things be ready?”
Vetta tipped her head forward to look at him over her spectacles.
“She paid for rush services. I’ll have a few pieces for her by tomorrow.
The rest will trickle in over the next week.
” The woman picked up a bag near the dressing room.
“Here are a few more pre-made items for tonight and tomorrow, until your new items are delivered.”
Clover took the bag with a genuine smile. “Thanks, Vetta. I appreciate your help.”
Vetta smiled sweetly— something she’d never done toward Amos. “It was no problem, dear.”
As the two left the shop, Amos glanced back at the older woman. “She likes you more than me.” Everyone should, he added silently. Clover was perfect.
“Halt.” The voice sent ice through Amos’ veins. Amos turned slowly as his father’s royal carriage rolled to a stop not far from where he and Clover stood.
“Clover, you need to leave,” Amos said quietly, his eyes trained on his father as he stepped out of his carriage. “Now.”
“I can’t run now,” she whispered. “He’s seen me. It would look odd.”
Fuck, she was right.
“What are you doing here?” his father asked, surveying the market with distaste. “Send Alice to run your errands. Her entire reason for coming with you was to see to your needs and oversee the estate staff full-time.”
“I like getting out,” Amos replied smoothly. “I forced Alice to stay home.”
His father didn’t like that answer. “You’re a prince. You don’t shop for yourself in a lowborn market.” The king curled his lip. “If you insist on shopping for yourself, the North Oasis isn’t far, and they have a luxury market.”
Clover’s anger burned through Amos’ chest. Amos started to remind the king the North Oasis was a few hours away, but his father cut him off. “This only further proves my point in coming.”
Paul appeared behind the king, a disingenuous smile stretching across his face. “Hello, Amos. Philip and I were just on our way to see you when we spotted you on the sidewalk.”
Amos gritted his teeth. “So he said, though he made no mention of you.”
A vein pulsed in Paul’s temple as his sharp eyes moved from Amos to Clover. She stood slightly behind Amos, silent. “Is this a friend of yours?”
Amos craved to slaughter the man where he stood for even looking at her. Even more so when the king took notice. “Who is this woman, son?”
Twisting to look at Clover, silently imploring her to play along. “I forgot she was here.” He forced out a condescending laugh. “You can go.”
Playing the docile companion perfectly, Clover bowed her head and turned to leave.
“Stop,” Paul ordered, watching Amos closely before shifting his gaze back to Clover.
Clover stopped and turned gracefully, bowing her head again. “Yes, my lord?”
“What’s your name?” Paul asked, stepping closer.
Amos tutted, and blocked his path. “I don’t allow other men to touch my toys, Paul. You know this.”
To keep up the facade of an arrogant prince in the capital, he kept a woman from the Hydra with him as a pretend mistress, and every time, Paul made a pass at them.
Paul smirked. “I only wanted her name.”
“Enough of this. Who cares what the girl’s name is?” the king interrupted. “Send her on her way. We have more important matters to discuss.”
“Clover?” Vetta said, stepping out of her shop. “Did you forget something?” The woman glanced sideways and did a double take when she saw the king. “Your Grace, I apologize. I did not see you there.” She dipped her head.
Amos’ father ignored her. “Come, son. I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary.”
“Goodbye, Clover,” Paul purred, throwing Amos a knowing look. “I hope to see you again soon.”
Fuck.
Clover turned the corner, sprinting toward the nearest hitching post. The boy watching the horses jumped to his feet as Clover started untying the nearest one.
“Unhand that horse or I’ll call the guards,” he snapped. The boy looked to be no older than fifteen.
She ignored him and threw herself into the saddle. “Tell the owner they can retrieve it from the Ambrose ranch.”
The boy yelled after her, calling for the guards, but she didn’t look back. Clover wasn’t an idiot. She’d seen the calculating way the other man looked at her, and Amos’ reaction alone was enough to tell her she needed to leave.
Her whistle pierced the air the second she burst through the gates of her father’s land. Marcus came riding up from the east, and Ruth ran out the front door of the house. As Clover and Marcus approached the house, they both dismounted.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
“The king is here.” She breathed deeply, forcing herself to calm down. Amos’ reaction spooked her. “He stopped Amos and me in the market.”
They both swore. “There was another man with them. I didn’t recognize him, but his name is Paul. Amos was worried when the man found out my name. Really worried.”
“Godsdammnit,” Marcus growled. “Paul Mallard. He’s been a target of ours, but since we took out his father, he upped his guard detail. If he’s not with the king, he’s escorted by no fewer than two guards. If he fucks a woman, she is strip-searched first. He’s impossible to get to.”
“That doesn’t explain why Amos reacted the way he did.” Clover started to pace. “It wasn’t jealousy or anything like that. It was genuine fear.” She looked at the two. “Amos doesn’t fear anything unless it involves losing me.”