45
Vincent Hawthorne
T he silence is deafening, making it seem like my heart’s fast-paced, thumping sounds are reverberating through the entire hall.
The woman before me has stolen everyone’s attention, including mine.
The dancefloor that was full of couples dancing just a few moments ago is now empty. We’re both in the middle of it, standing in front of each other.
Camilla’s positioning herself to dance, slowly coming closer to me. With each step towards me, my heart races faster, pumping blood quickly through my body and making me feel feverish.
The proximity is overwhelming, even if we’re not as close as I’d wish.
Once we’re a few steps apart, she curtseys, and I bow.
Each movement requires a lot more energy than usual, with the anxiety and despair of having her this close yelling at me to do something about it. In the deepest, darkest part of me, anything would be fair game to win her back.
But what is that anything? What could make her forgive me?
We both straighten at the same time, and her arms rise in position. I take a step closer, grabbing one of her hands and allowing the other to settle on my shoulder. In return, I snake mine around her, placing it in the middle of her back, holding her elbow up with mine.
I knew my aunt had taught her well, but I never knew the extent of what her education entailed. It’s like she was born for this.
She was.
Her back stiffens upon my touch, and I can’t help but look at her. From her shoulders, I notice her strained neck, keeping her chin up. The plump pink lips are pressed in a thin line and her eyes are focused somewhere close to the side of my head, avoiding mine at all costs.
She refuses to look at me.
At this point, I don’t know what hurts more, seeing it all from a distance or witnessing it up close. All because I am this close to her, but it’s the furthest away I have ever been.
Beggars can’t be choosers, and I’d rather have her in my arms one last time. One dance is more than I ever expected, more than I surely deserve.
If it weren’t for Edgar, I’d still be in that office, wallowing in my misery. Torn between being happy for her and all she’s accomplished—for having found her place in the world—and miserable for having lost her in the process.
I take the first step, and she follows as I guide us both through the dancefloor. We glide with grace, and the only thing that can be heard is the music being played by the small orchestra in the far corner.
That and my frantic heart.
Everything else is a blurry background around us.
Everything is happening in slow motion, with my attention solely on her. On her beauty and grace.
The strong notes from the violoncello take over the melody, giving it that classic tone this kind of event always aims for.
“I am happy for you,” I whisper.
She shivers. It’s barely there, but the hand on her bare back allows me to feel it perfectly. Her eyes slide to mine for just a split second, and the pain emanating from her brown irises is so like mine that it feels like lightning hitting me straight in the chest. Except, out of the both of us, she is the only one with the right to feel this way, whereas I don’t.
I deserve everything that has come my way.
“Please, don’t do this here.” Camilla’s voice comes out shaky, barely audible.
If it weren’t for the proximity, I would think I was imagining it as she keeps avoiding directing her attention to me. Her eyes keep swirling to our surroundings, probably focusing on all the blurry faces witnessing our dance.
“I have to,” I answer in the same low tone. “It’s my only chance.”
“This is no chance. You had one,” she grits. “And you threw it out the window.” Ouch.
I threw my chance out the window the moment I gave in to my mother’s blackmail.
If only I knew ...
“Darling, I am not proud of what happened.” God knows I am not . “I regret it deeply, but it was the only way to protect you.”
The confession rolls off my tongue easily. Ever since she left the manor, every day, I have wanted to go to her and tell the entire truth. Let her choose what she could or could not face.
If she had chosen me, too, how would things have been?
But how could I ask that of her when I didn’t choose to stay with her in the first place?
“What the hell does that even mean?” she hisses, losing her composure for a split second.
Her eyes widen as something flashes through them, right after she goes back to her stoic self, sobering up.
I have never seen Camilla this self-aware. But it’s good because it’s exactly how a queen should be: aware of herself and her surroundings, aware that one wrong move or word can give the world power over them.
And while I don’t know if this was my Aunt Lizzie’s work or the time she has spent here has taught her something, it makes me proud that she…is adapting well.
And this is where we are different. I would never have kept my composure in a moment like this. If I were in her place, I’d want blood .
“My mother blackmailed me,” I admit. “There were several explicit pictures of us…together. If I hadn’t let her do as she wished, she would leak it. I couldn’t let that happen, I–”
I stop myself, unable to continue, and she squeezes my hand, forcing me to look at her. For the first time, she’s looking straight back at me, and everything shifts.
It shifts inside me, the euphoria of finally being able to watch her properly. But especially when I notice a sliver of understanding finally finding its way to her face.
“You what?” she presses.
“I couldn’t let her do that to you. I needed to protect you.”
Without thinking, with the need for more, my left hand lowers, pressing on the small of her back and bringing her closer to me. Her back tenses, but she complies, keeping with the classic rhythm as if nothing happened.
Her face seems pensive, far away from the present, so I take advantage to continue, “I know you. Having the paparazzi hunting you down like prey, your life, your privacy...Not to mention you’d have been bashed as a gold-digger.” I pause, studying her reactions. When none comes, I continue, “Just imagining it was incapacitating. I’d rather lose you than hurt you that way…”
Camilla scoffs, “Isn’t that cute?”
“It’s what I felt then, I—”
“How about being honest with me and letting me choose what I wanted to go through?” She cuts me off. “Maybe, just maybe…I would have been willing to go through hell and back for you. I would have chosen to be with you.”
Fuck.
“Camilla, this world is ruthless. It would never matter how wrong the public opinion was, you’d never get rid of that stain. It could cost you a lot in life. I didn’t think it was worth risking it.”
“You were worth risking it for me,” she mutters, the words piercing through me like a sharp blade. “Instead, you made me feel unworthy of you, and you took from me a choice that was only mine to make.”
I was inconsiderate, thinking on her behalf. Even if I meant well, I ended up breaking us apart and hurting her past the point of forgiveness. Knowing she was willing to go through all of it for me, and I didn’t even give her the chance makes the tiny ember of hope I had inside extinguish itself.
I didn’t ruin my life. I detonated it.
“I didn’t think it would–” I sigh, cutting myself off. “I just acted on it; in my mind, this was the best for you.”
“By breaking my heart and showing your mother how unworthy of you I am was your way of protecting me? Quite ironic, don’t you think?”
Yes...Now that I look back, I know how stupid it was.
“I truly am sorry,” I say, not knowing what else to say.
She doesn’t answer, stretching the uncomfortable silence as we continue to dance. For a moment, I wish this song would never finish, knowing the end is near. I won’t have any excuses to get near her after this…
“Where are those pictures now?” she asks out of the blue. “I can’t imagine your mother witnessing all of this, watching me robbing you and her of the titles you’ve worked for all your life and not be preparing some kind of revenge.”
“She won’t release the pictures because now it would make me look bad. The world would think I got closer to you so I wouldn’t lose my spot as the king. But you’re right…She must be preparing something else, and it’s stressing me out that I can’t figure out what it can be.”
“Why?”
“My mother has been aiming for me to be king ever since my dad died and was no longer here to control her ambitions. With the ling’s lack of an heir and health issues later, she became more convinced about my ‘destiny’. She won’t give up this easily after decades of planning and plotting…”
“Where is she? She has been invited, too, but I haven’t seen her around.”
“As far as I know, home,” I answer. “Something about not giving you the satisfaction of seeing her here tonight.”
“Well, we can worry about that another day, then.”
“It’s been my biggest worry for weeks now. If something happens to you, I–”
“Stop, please,” she cuts me off.
Looking away from me, she brings back the emotional distance that had disappeared while we were talking. It squeezes at my battered heart. The realistic part of me knows I won’t have a second chance, but that little part of my broken heart, still beating for her, had hope. Hope that she understands and will forgive me.
For a second there, I forget how deep the wound is. For a moment, I thought I was back on track for leniency.
“I am sorry. Truly .”
“I know,” she answers, then she exhales. “But it’s too late.”
Too late.
The anxiety eating away at my heart makes me act before I think, my arm pulling her closer to my chest as we keep swaying to the rhythm of the classical music reverberating through the hall.
For the past weeks, misery has been my sole companion, but right now, anxiety is taking over. This nagging feeling that another shoe is about to drop won’t go away, even if I have tried to shake it off constantly.
There’s something inside telling me to keep her close, yelling that I need to keep her with me always.
“Vincent,” she calls, her voice barely audible. “This is not appropriate.”
“Let me have this moment,” I beg. “I won’t have any other opportunity.”
“Just for a moment,” she agrees with a shaky voice, leaning the side of her head against my chest, making my heart somersault inside.
It finally clears the view for me to focus on everyone around us as we softly sway.
No one has joined us in this dance; instead, everyone is inert, focused on us. Shock laces several of the faces I see around us. Eccentric, right?
The former second in line to the throne is holding the unexpected queen in his arms. And I am holding her for dear life.
For them, it’s a weird unfathomable scene. For me? The woman of my dreams, the love of my life, is holding me right before she slips right through my fingers. She is giving me one final pitiful moment before we part ways, all because I didn’t hold on well enough when I had to.
Then, my heart stops as dread takes over.
Blaring alarm sirens ring, overpowering the orchestra that quickly stops playing, followed by the slamming of the wooden double doors.
“ Security has been breached !” one of the guards yells, running towards us.
Everyone starts shrieking as more guards come inside, creating chaos around us. People rush around, trying to leave the premises. The present guards try to keep order, but it’s quite difficult with how scared most of the crowd is.
“Your Majesty,” the guard exclaims, grabbing her roughly by the elbow. “We need to go!”
Camilla gasps at the sudden contact that detaches her from my body but doesn’t complain. She just nods and starts following him. Without giving it much thought, I follow them towards one of the small doors that lead to some private areas in the palace.
Once we reach the door and walk to the other side, the noise is muffled, and the chaos from all of those running people dissipates. The corridor is wide, filled with doors, paintings, and vintage furniture.
It’s not as luxurious as I had imagined, but it still oozes wealth.
The alarm sirens stop, and the palace becomes quiet.
Too quiet.
Looking at Camilla right in front of me, I notice her arm still attached to the guard’s hand, the skin turning white from the tightness of the hold.
“At ease, soldier,” she speaks finally. “We’re safe in here.”
“Not until we reach the chambers.”
His voice sounds robotic, stoic, which, should it be, but instead, it worries me.
“You’re hurting her,” I grit, grabbing his arm and forcing them to stop walking.
The guy lets go of her and slightly bows, apologising. “Here,” he directs, opening a door. “It’s safe in here.”
Camilla frowns, unsure, and I can’t help but instinctively grab one of her shoulders from behind and lean towards her ear to whisper, “I’m here. I got you.”
“What happened out there?” Camilla asks the man as he carefully scours every corner of the division.
It looks like one of those dozens of unnecessary rooms, fully furnished but with no real use. When he doesn’t answer, she looks at me, confused.
“Do you know what happened?”
“No,” I answer.
It was too quick to understand, and my only thought was to come with her.
“Was your mother trying to ruin the event just for me to look bad?” she questions, heading for the chair on our right-hand side. “I don’t bloody care about a stupid coronation party and if it ends on a poor note.”
“Hmm, doesn’t sound like her,” I mumble, pensive. She’d want to do something bigger. “She’s more the effective kind of person.”
“Well, it’s probably controlled by now. The security is tight here. Right?”
The guard straightens up, looking at the both of us with a stoic face before answering. “Yes.”
“See?” She smiles at him before looking back at me. “You can go…now.”
“Oh, yes…Of course,” I stutter like a fool.
Something is off, but I have no other reason to stay here any longer.
“You…will be an amazing queen, far better than I could ever be,” I admit.
“Thank you,” she mumbles, looking down at her hands.
I explained myself, and she gave me a chance to do it. It’s all I could ask for. Now, at least, I can live with the fact that I did all I could to win her back.
The knob twists under my hand as I prepare to leave, but her steps, coming closer to me once again, stop me. With one foot out the door, I wait.
Oh, god. I wait for the words that will make me turn around and crash my lips onto hers.
Her voice drowns everything out as she says, “Thank you for being honest. Goodbye.”
Her last words pierce through me, so much so that I can’t answer. I just nod weakly. Finally ready to leave. Except…
Heavy breaths and rushed steps catch my attention, and everything blurs as my body moves in a flash, reaching out for her just as I hear, “ Death to the fake queen !”