Accept the Challenge (AU, CC, TEEN) COMPLETE [2/11]

[Evelynn]

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Chapter Forty Five:
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“Where is she?” King Jeffrey demands as he paces about the room, wearing down the tile, nonetheless. “It has been over a day. Why has no one found her yet?” He stops his pacing and stares pointedly at his guards.

One of the guards drops to his knees. “I apologize, my King. We have searched the entire city with no trace of her.”

“Well, then expand your search farther,” he throws his hands up in the air. “She has to be somewhere. She cannot have simply vanished into thin air.”

“Jeffrey, perhaps you should calm down …” Queen Nancy speaks from her seat.

“Calm down?” he explodes at her. “How can I calm down when my daughter, the only heir to my throne, is out there somewhere with heaven knows who, doing heaven knows what!”

Nancy bites her lip softly and looks down at her hands.

Jeffrey turns back towards his guards. “Has anyone contacted the Evans boy?”

“Yes, sire,” another guards speaks up. “The Governor has paid him a visit the other night.”

“And?” the King asks expectantly.

“Well … we … we have no news of it,” the guard replies cautiously.

“Well, get news of it!” The King begins his pacing once again. “I want to know what happened to my daughter. If she has run off, then she most likely will have run to that boy. But if she is kidnapped, then I do not even know where to start thinking. Terrorists, disloyal servants, ransom, there are endless possibilities. And until we find out what happened to her, none of this will be repeated to anyone.” The King stops and looks at the men, “Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sire,” they all reply in unison as they bow their heads to him.

“Good,” the King walks and takes his seat at his throne. “Now go find the Princess. Check the Evans’ place first thing.”

“Yes, sire,” they all chant together again before they head off in search of the Princess.



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“I hope you know that I am completely smitten with you, Elizabeth Parker,” Maxwell confesses to her. After their day by the river, they had returned home. Well, Maxwell’s home. They are seated in his room, Elizabeth on his bed, and Maxwell on a chair in front of her. “I am so utterly smitten that you are all I think about all day long and it does not feel right to go to bed without you.”

“Oh, really?” she teases. “You do realize that I can use this towards my advantage, do you not?” She has a wicked gleam in her eyes.

But Maxwell continues to simply smile. “Anything you want, Elizabeth. Anything at all.”

“Alright,” Elizabeth narrows her eyes and thinks. “I want your money.”

“Done,” he says, still smiling up at her.

“Your home,” she wiggles her eyebrows playfully.

“In an instant,” he says, reaching up and tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Your heart,” she says with a smile.

“You already have it, Elizabeth,” Maxwell whispers to her. When she ducks her chin, he reaches up, forcing her to look at him. “We should straighten some concerns out.”

Elizabeth smiles up at him. “For instance?”

“Well,” Maxwell begins. “For instance, we are going to marry sometime in the not too distant future.”

“Is that a request or a command?” Elizabeth smirks at him.

“Elizabeth,” Maxwell gripes. “I am being deathly serious. I want to marry you. I want to propose to you soon. But I am not certain that right now is the best time.”

“You are right, Maxwell,” Elizabeth nods her head, sadly. “It is not the best time right now. I have-”

“But when it is,” Maxwell interrupts her, “you tell me. Are we clear? I do not want someone else to beat me to it.”

Elizabeth smiles at him. “As clear as crystal, Maxwell. You will be the first to know. Besides,” Elizabeth smirks at him. “Even if other handsome, dashing, young men do ask me for my hand in marriage before you, I will just simply have to tell them that I already have someone completely and utterly smitten with me.”

Maxwell smiles and runs his fingers through her hair. “You had better.”

“Anything else you wish like to discuss, Maxwell?” Elizabeth tilts her head at him.

Maxwell shakes his head and continues to run his fingers through her hair. “None more I can think of.”

“Good, because you talk far too much,” Elizabeth says, feigning a yawn.

Maxwell narrows his eyes. “Oh, and you would prefer me to do this?” Maxwell leans down and kisses her softly on the lips.

“Mmm …” Elizabeth licks her lips. “I would much rather prefer for you to do just that.” She links her hands around his neck, pulling him down, and kissing him again.

She lets out a soft moan and Maxwell drops himself further down on the bed, more of his body coming in contact with hers, bringing his arms to her sides, stroking her stomach gently.

Elizabeth’s hands are running down his neck and chest and lower until she reaches the hem of his shirt. She begins tugging at it, lifting it up, revealing his tight golden skin. Maxwell breaks their kiss and hurriedly discards his shirt before leaning back down and kissing Elizabeth once again.

Her hands travel up his chest, over the smooth muscles of his shoulders and down his back. Maxwell’s lips travel downward, trailing soft kisses along her jawbone and down to her neck, sucking at her sensitive skin.

“Maxwell …” she murmurs out his name. He lifts his head and looks into her eyes. Elizabeth leans forward and kisses his lips lightly before placing kisses down his chest. She places feather-light kisses on the two areas of his neck and shoulder where she branded him as hers, and begins forming another one on his chest.

Maxwell sucks in his breath and hisses. He looks down at her with a playful smile. “What is it with you and biting?”

“I just like being able to secretly say that you are mine,” she speaks in a hushed voice. “But if you want me to stop-”

“No,” he interrupts her. “Do not ever stop.” She scoots back up and gazed at him. The hooded look in her eyes drives him wild. He finds the sensitive area of her neck and kisses her once more before looking back into her eyes, just in time to catch her yawning.

Maxwell leans his forehead against hers, chuckling softly. “Tired?”

Elizabeth slowly nods her head, her eyelids heavy. “Just a bit.”

He brings his hand up and caresses her cheek. “We should get ready for bed then.” Maxwell lifts himself off of her and Elizabeth pouts at the sudden lost of warmth. Seeing her face, Maxwell smiles and lifts her into his arms.

Elizabeth leans her head down on his shoulder. “I am exhausted, Maxwell.”

“We will go to bed then,” Maxwell is about to pick her up and tuck her into bed but freezes when he hears a loud commotion in his room.

“I am telling you, she is not here,” he hears his father’s voice from outside the hallway. The door suddenly swings open and in comes about seven guards, followed by his father.

All seven guards kneeled before Maxwell. The closest one of them spoke. “Princess, his Highness, the king, wishes you home this instant.”

Maxwell gently shakes her. Elizabeth drudgingly lifts her head from his shoulder and she looks around the room at the men. “What … what is going on?”

“King Jeffrey wants you home, at the palace, immediately, Princess.” Elizabeth pouts before slowly getting to her feet, slipping on her shoes and heading out the door. She stops, turning back towards Maxwell. “I will see you later,” she whispers to him before heading out.

All of the seven guards line out and follow her down the stairs and to the awaiting carriage outside, leaving the room vacant of all except for him and his father, who stands at his doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Philip stares at Maxwell with a look of disapproval on his face.

Maxwell groans at the predicament he must be in and the scene he must have presented. “Father, I can explain-”

“I will talk to you in the morning, Maxwell,” Philip interrupts. “Until then, I suggest that you had better get well rested for when I give you that longest lecture of your life.” And with that, Philip leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Maxwell plops down on his bed. Things suddenly seem ten times worse. But then, all of the punishment in the world, for just the chance to be with Elizabeth, makes it all worthwhile.



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“This is just completely and utterly unacceptable, Elizabeth,” King Jeffrey paces back and forth in her bedroom. “And not only that, but this is the second time in which the guards have found you there. You are a Princess. Where is your virtue? Have you no shame?” He stops and turns expectantly towards Elizabeth.

Elizabeth sighs and sits straight. “I have an abundance of virtue. And I have nothing to be ashamed of. I have told you a thousand times, father. Maxwell and I have done nothing wrong.”

“And you are telling me that spending the night, alone, with that boy, in the same bed nonetheless, is not wrong?” he explodes at her.

“That is exactly what I am saying,” Elizabeth stands with her head held high.

Jeffrey stares at her. “Do not you see it, Elizabeth? Do not you see what is going on? He has you wrapped around his little finger and you are doing everything he wants. He is simply using you.”

“He is not,” Elizabeth defends. “He has loved me and cared for me from before discovering that I was a Princess, even before I was willing to even consider being with anyone.”

“And you will not ever be with him,” Jeffrey fumes. “You are not to see that boy ever again.” He points a finger at her. “I forbid it.”

“You cannot forbid me from seeing him,” Elizabeth states in a calm voice. “I love him, father.”

“Love means nothing.” He towers over her. “Believe me. I have been through this, Elizabeth. I know what it feels like to think you have fallen so completely in love with someone. But it is not real. It is never real.”

“It might not have been with you, father. But it is between Maxwell and I,” Elizabeth tries to persuade him. “I love Maxwell and he loves me.”

“Are you certain he loves you, Elizabeth?” King Jeffrey asks, barring as much anger out of his voice as possible.

She nods her head. “I am positive. If it is one thing I know, I know this.”

Jeffrey sighs. “Fine. I will accept that, for now. But I am warning you, Elizabeth. He has more to gain from this … relationship than you do. You are going to end up hurt in the end. Believe me, I know.”

“Thank you, father,” she says, giving him a hug. “And I know too. Mother has done some horrible things in the past, but she truly does love you and she respects you. She just made some bad decisions.”

“Make that several wrong choices,” Jeffrey says, shaking his head. “You do not understand, Elizabeth. Things are far too complicated between your mother and I.”

“At least try?” Elizabeth pleads with him.

He pats her on the head. “Alright. I will try. Now, if you will join me in the strategy room, we have matters to discuss.” He extends his hand for her to take.

“Matters?” Elizabeth questions as he leads her down the hall.

“Yes,” Jeffrey nods his head. “This entire situation at hand, as well as others. I have also hired another guard for you.”

“Is Doug not enough of a guard?” Elizabeth complains.

“No, Elizabeth,” he squeezes her hand slightly. “You are my daughter and I want you safe. Now, the consultants are all waiting on us. We have much to discuss. A great deal, in fact.”



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[flyawayraven]

I wonder what happened to Elizabeth that she feels Max will hate her for... Come back soon I can't wait for more!!!

Jess

[Evelynn]

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Chapter Forty Six:
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“I have got it, Maxwell,” Alexander burst into his brother’s room early the next morning.

“What?” Maxwell asks, still half asleep, but manages to sit up in his bed.

“I have figured out how to keep you from having to go to the Royal Courts,” Alexander says with a wide smile on his face.

Maxwell is now wide-awake, jumping out of bed. “What is it?”

“This,” Alexander pulls a rope out from behind his back.

Maxwell eyes him carefully. “What are we going to do with that?”

“Tie you up so you that cannot go away,” Alexander says as he approaches Maxwell.

Maxwell rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a smile. Alexander only ever has the best intentions. “Really now, Alexander. And just how do you think you are going to be able to tie me up? I am bigger than you.”

Alexander drops the rope and sits on the bed with a sigh. “At least I tried. I just cannot think of a thing, Maxwell. And I cannot simply allow you to go off and kill yourself.”

“Alexander,” Maxwell grabs him by the shoulders. “Do not fuss over it. I promise I will not do anything all too drastic. Besides, there is no news of Khivar yet, so we do not have to worry.”

Alexander makes a face and looks away from Maxwell.

Maxwell grips his shoulders tighter. “Alexander? Is there something you want to tell me?”

“No,” Alexander squeaked.

“Alexander,” Maxwell warns. “If there is something I should know about …”

“Good morning …” Michael calls from the doorway. “Have you seen Uncle Peter? He has not been around the house lately.”

Maxwell lets go of Alexander’s shoulders. “Perhaps he has gone out to eat.”

“Perhaps …” Michael shrugs his shoulders. “Oh, and father wants to speak with you first thing, Maxwell.”

Maxwell nods his head and sighs.

“Alexander,” Michael calls to him. “Breakfast?”

“Of course,” Alexander jumps up and races down the stairs.

“We will talk later, Alexander,” Maxwell calls after him.

“Maxwell?” Michael walked into the room.

“Yes, Michael?” Maxwell asks, stretching his muscles and preparing for what his father says will be the longest lecture of his life.

“Mother talked with father last night. She explained a great deal to him. And just so you know, he is not even half as upset as he was yesterday.”

A wide smile appears on Maxwell’s face. “Give Mother a kiss for me, will you?”

“Of course,” Michael smiles and heads out the door. “Father is in his office. Do not keep him waiting too long.”

Maxwell takes a deep breath and starts out the door to his father’s office. He knocks softly on the door before slowly entering. Philip instantly points towards a chair for Maxwell to sit in, not even bothering to look up.

“Maxwell,” Philip begins, taking his seat behind his desk. “I will tell you right now that I will not yell at you. I had a long talk with your mother last night and we have both decided that you are old enough now, and that you are your own man.”

Maxwell nods his head in gratitude.

“You are old enough to make your own decisions. And although they happen to be the wrong decisions, there is not anything I can do to stop you. I just hope you know exactly what you are getting yourself into here.”

Maxwell nods his head. “I do, father. I know exactly what I am doing.”

“Do you, Maxwell?” Philip’s voice grow louder. “Because it looks to me as though you are throwing your life away.”

“What are you talking about, father?” Maxwell asks, shaking his head.

Philip leans back in his chair with a huff. “How long has this been going on, Maxwell?”

Maxwell shakes his head. “Not too long.”

Philip shakes his head from side to side. “I always thought that when this time came, that you would be more responsible than this, Maxwell. You are practically ruining her life and yours.” Philip throw his hands in the air.

“How, father?” Maxwell’s anger begins rising. “How am I throwing away our lives? I am just being with her.”

Philip leans forward in his seat, clasping his hands together on the desk before him. “You do love her, do you not? I at least taught you that much.”

“Taught me what?” Maxwell asks, confused.

Philip sighs. “Do you love her, Maxwell?”

“Of course,” Maxwell nod his head emphatically. “More than anything.”

“Then think of her for once,” Philip says in a stern voice. “Think of what consequences she will have to endure.”

“Father, I always think of her,” Maxwell confesses. “I always put her before myself. Always.”

“And yet the two of you are still sleeping together?” Philip hollers. “How is that thinking of her? What if she is with child, Maxwell? What then?”

Maxwell shakes his head. “If she is with child, then we will marry and have a family. But she is not, father. And she will not be any time soon.”

“And just how are you so certain?” Philip narrows his eyes at his son.

Maxwell chuckles. “Because we have never actually done anything. We sleep together. But that is it. Sleep. God, father. The most I have ever done is kiss her. I cannot believe this. You do not even trust me.”

Philip sighs in relief. “Thank goodness, Maxwell.”

Maxwell stands up from his seat and looks down at his father. “You do not trust me.”

“I do trust you, Maxwell,” Philip speaks up. “But this is Elizabeth’s life. And you, of all people, should know that this is not something that you can simply toy about with.”

Maxwell nods his head. “I know. I would risk my life for hers.”

“That is what love will do to you,” Philip says with a soft smile on his face. He sighs. “Alright. I know I told you that this is to be a long lecture, but we will end it here. So long as we have one thing clear. I am not yet ready to be a grandfather.”

Maxwell chuckles. “Not a problem, father.”

Philip smiles and pats Maxwell on the back. “Good.”

“Not yet, at least,” Maxwell mutters as he closes the door behind him.



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“What is this all about, father?” Elizabeth asks, taking her seat in the room, completely surrounded by men.

“Well,” King Jeffrey explains. “There are a lot of things to this kingdom that you do not know about. And since you are my heir, I have decided that you should take part in everything and get acquainted with the tasks of royalty-”

“Your Highness,” a man interrupts him.

“What is it, Whittaker?” Jeffrey asks, clearly annoyed.

“Well,” the man bows his head. “The princess has yet to prove herself.”

“Are you doubting that Elizabeth is my daughter?” the King’s voice is rising.

“No, no. Of course not,” Whittaker is quick to apologize. “It is just the matter of proving to the world.”

King Jeffrey waves the man away. “All in due time. Right now, it is nothing to worry over. Now, Elizabeth. All of these men here are advisors, members of the Royal Courts, and guards among other people. They are all here to serve me, and now you, as well.”

Elizabeth nods her head in understanding.

King Jeffrey waves his hand and a man walks towards them. The man then bows his head as the King introduces him to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, I would like you to meet your new guard, Pierce.”

The guard turns towards the Princess and then stands up straight.

“He will be working with Doug Shellow in protecting you,” the King explains. “I will not tolerate any more slip ups like what happened with Nicholas.”

Elizabeth lowers her head in shame.

“Daughter, do not worry,” Jeffrey says with a smile. “It is all taken care of. Nothing happened.”

“But,” Elizabeth lets out a sigh. “Do you not at least want to know what happened?”

Jeffrey shakes his head. “No. You do not have to say a thing. As far as anyone is concerned, Nicholas never existed.”

Elizabeth shakes her head in disbelief. “You cannot simply make a person disappear.”

“We already have,” Jeffrey smiles at her. “You never have to worry about it again.”

“But, father,” Elizabeth protests. “That is wrong and immoral.”

“Elizabeth,” Jeffrey sympathizes for her. “We are royalty. You need to understand that these things happen, and we deal with them. We cannot have these rumors and such be spread about.”

“But …”

“I know, Elizabeth,” Jeffrey interrupts. “I know you would never do anything wrong. Nicholas lured you into his quarters and attacked you and you defended yourself.”

“That is true,” Elizabeth agrees. “But, how did you know that?”

“We had the body examined, dearest. Nicholas’s body is burned from the inside,” Jeffrey explains. “Who else could have done that, and how else will it be that way?”

Tears start coming from Elizabeth’s eyes. “I did not mean to.”

Jeffrey comforts her. “I know, dear. I know. These things happen. But you still should not have run away.”

“I am sorry,” Elizabeth wipes at her tears.

Jeffrey smiles “Do not let it happen again.”

“Yes, Father,” Elizabeth whispers to him as the doors to the room open.

Jeffrey looks towards the entrance. “Khivar,” he addresses his brother.

“Yes,” Khivar walks in with a smile.

“You are back early,” Jeffrey states as he sits back down.

“Yes. It is quite dreary in the country.” He stops, glances at Pierce, and then continues to walk towards the King and Elizabeth. But the small eye contact does not go unnoticed by Elizabeth.

Khivar takes his seat at the table, a few seats away from Elizabeth.

“Welcome back to the palace,” Jeffrey says before taking a sip from his drink to clear his throat. “Let us begin. What business is there today?”

“Well, your Highness …” the man stops speaking as the King begins to cough. Jeffrey’s coughing dies down and he signals for the man to continue. The man starts again, but Jeffrey’s coughing continues. Elizabeth tries to help him, patting his back, but it does no good, it only gets worse. And Jeffrey is soon slipping out of his seat, weak and struggling for breath.

Doctors rush in, hurrying and carrying him to his bedroom chambers. Elizabeth stands there, staring on as Whittaker comes up to her. “Do not worry, Princess. This is what happened the last time his sickness surfaced again. He will grow better. I am certain of it.”

Elizabeth nods her head, her concern still growing.

“He is right,” Khivar speaks to her, a sly grin on his face. “This is just like what happened last time. Do not worry your little head.” With that, he walks out of the room, side glancing at Pierce on his way out.

Pierce nods his head slightly from his spot before walking over to Elizabeth, Doug following as well. “Princess, would you like to go for a stroll in the garden while we wait on news of the King’s health, or would you like to call for your new tutor to begin your studies.”

“No,” Elizabeth says warily to her new guard. “I think I will head to my bedroom to wait.” Elizabeth sighs as she heads off. Hopefully, Maxwell will make everything better.



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Maxwell walks back and forth in his bedroom. He needs to think. There is so much going on right now, his mind is filled. He needs to relieve some of this stress and anger. And the only way he knows how to get rid of anger?

Maxwell glances into the hallway and spots Alexander walking by. “Alexander,” Maxwell calls out to him.

“What?” Alexander freezes. “I know nothing.”

“I wanted to see if you would like to go to the warehouse with me,” Maxwell says, coming out into the hallway.

Alexander sighs in relief. “I will come.”

“What do you know, Alexander?” Maxwell asks his younger brother.

“What? I said I know nothing,” Alexander defends himself.

“I suggest you tell me now,” Maxwell says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I know nothing,” Alexander continues. “Honestly, nothing.”

Maxwell is still unbelieving. “I can always torture the information out of you.”

Alexander holds up his hands in defense. “Fine. But you are not going to like it.”

“Tell me,” Maxwell says, his patience growing thin.

Alexander hangs his head low and sighs. “Khivar is back.”

“What?” Maxwell practically explodes. “Why did not you tell me this sooner?”

“I am,” Alexander defends himself. “I am telling you right now.”

“No, why did not you tell me about this when you first heard,” Maxwell asks, beginning to pace in the hallway. “This is bad. Alexander, we have to do something.”

“Hold your horses there,” Alexander stops Maxwell from pacing. “We will do something. But we are not doing what you are planning to do.”

Maxwell shrugs out of Alexander’s grasp. “What else is there to do? It is not that bad of an idea. Everyone knows that Khivar is evil. So there is the chance that the courts will side with me, right?”

Maxwell wants Alexander to say yes. Maxwell needs for Alexander to say yes. But his younger brother fails him as Alexander shakes his head from side to side and Maxwell sighs in frustration as his pacing begins once again. Alexander leans back against the wall, racking his brain, trying to think.

Michael walks up the stairs and takes in the sight. He gives a questioning glance to Maxwell, but Maxwell is so busy stalking back and forth to even have noticed him. So he looks at Alexander, who simply shakes his head at Michael, silently telling him that there is nothing he can do.

Michael sighs and walks past them, into his bedroom. What is happening to his family? One of his brothers is putting a hole in the floor with all of his pacing. The other is having migraines trying to help him. His father has been busying himself with work more and more. And he has not seen sight of his uncle for almost a day now. Michael shakes his head again and shuts the door behind him.

Alexander continues to stare at Maxwell as he strides back and forth. He lets out a sigh. “Maxwell, you have been pacing for the longest time now. Why do you not take a break? Are we going to the warehouse?”

“We cannot now, we have other things to think about,” Maxwell says, frantically. “How can you think about carrying cargo when the person out to kill Elizabeth is back?”

“I am concerned about Elizabeth,” Alexander defends himself. “But I am concerned about you, as well. You need to relax and think straight, Maxwell.” But Alexander’s worry does little to help Maxwell. Alexander slumps his shoulders in defeat. “Fine. If you will not relax a little for me, then do it for mother and father.”

Maxwell stops and looks at him. “Mother and father?”

“Yes. Our parents. I do not think they want to see you like this. And if they do, they are going to want to know what it is that is bothering you. Now, do you really want to go into all of this about Elizabeth and about the Nicholas situation with them?”

Maxwell shakes his head. “You are right, Alexander. As always.”

Alexander walks over to Maxwell and grips his shoulders. “Elizabeth will be fine. Khivar has just returned. He will not be stupid enough to try something with Elizabeth this soon. And until we think of something, Elizabeth can protect herself, if what you told me that happened with Nicholas is true.”

Maxwell nods his head, knowing Alexander is referring to Elizabeth’s gifts. “Thank you, Alexander. We will think of something?”

“Yes, we will,” Alexander says with a smile. “Now go to your room and rest, Elizabeth will be coming tonight and you will need all the rest you can get for that,” Alexander adds with a wink before making his way to his own bedroom.

Maxwell smiles before walking into his bedroom as well. He sits down on his bed to think of everything that is going on, and mainly of her. He thinks of the consequences, but in the end, they are all worth it. Elizabeth is worth everything and more. His family will understand. Father loves Mother. Michael loves Maria. They will understand. Alexander will soon grow to realize that he loves Isabella, and he will grow to understand why he has to do this. But Elizabeth … It is only Elizabeth that he is worried about. He makes his decision as he sits down at his desk and pulls out a sheet of paper to begin writing.


My dearest Elizabeth,
I know, you will not approve of my decision, but please try to understand. You mean the world to me. I love you, more than you will ever know. More than I will ever be able to show you. That is why I have made up my mind, because you mean more to me than life itself. And I cannot bear to see you hurt, ever. Please, forgive me. And forget me. It is for the best. I will love you always.
Maxwell


He sits back with a sigh. There is so much more he wants to say. So much more that he wants to tell her. But how can he express his infinite love in but a few words. He reads the letter over as the ink dried before folding the paper, just in time for Elizabeth to climb through the window.

“Hello there, beautiful,” he watches her as she slides into his room with ease. She has done it so many times before, but it will stop after tonight.

“Hello, Maxwell,” she walks over to him and gives him a soft kiss before sitting down in his arms. “What are you doing?”

Maxwell smiles. “Just thinking of you.”

Elizabeth rolls her eyes. “Such the charmer.”

Maxwell wraps his arms around her with a sigh.

“Is something the matter?” she asks, concerned.

But Maxwell just shakes his head. “No, Elizabeth. Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect.”

She kisses him again on the cheek and leans her head onto his shoulder.

“How was your day?” he asks her, leaning back in the chair.

Elizabeth sighs. “Father is ill again. But the doctors have told me not to worry. It is strange that he should become ill again just as soon as Khi … um … nothing. I have a new guard. His name is Pierce.” Elizabeth frowns. “I am not too sure about him. I do not think he is a bad person, it is just the looks he exchanges with …” Elizabeth lets the sentence hang in the air and bites her lip.

“With who?” Maxwell probes.

“No one,” Elizabeth answers quickly. “Just … um … Doug.”

“Doug?” Maxwell can tell she is lying. She nods her head into Maxwell’s shoulder and he does not question it further. “Did you meet anyone else today?”

“No,” Elizabeth shakes her head. “No one else. How was your day?”

Maxwell smiles. She is so blatantly changing the subject. She does not want him to know of Khivar’s return. She does not want him to worry. Just like how he does not want her worrying over him. “It was rather boring without you, as always.”

Elizabeth sits up in his lap. “What is this?” she picks up the folded paper on his desk.

Maxwell just smiles and shakes his head. “It is nothing, love. Will you do something for me, Elizabeth?” He motions for her to stand, and she does, placing the paper back on the desk as she watches him, curious as to what he wants. He walks towards the center of his room and hold his hand out for her. “Come here.”

Elizabeth eyes him warily. “What are you up to?”

“What?” he quirks his eyebrows at her. “You do not trust me?”

“It is not that I do not trust you. It is that I trust you far too much.” She smiles and slips her hand into his. Maxwell pulls her close to him, wrapping his arm around her waist as he begins swaying.

Elizabeth chuckles and shakes her head in disbelief, but plays along. Maxwell leans his head on her shoulder and just enjoys the feel of her in his arms. This may be the last chance he is able to be with her like this.

Maxwell hears Elizabeth yawn, her eyelids heavy. He smiles at her and stops. “Tired?” he asks, running his hand through her hair. This may be the last time he will be able to.

She nods her head with a smile. “Just a tad bit.”

Maxwell lifts her up in his arms and carries her over to the bed. “Do you want to change?”

“I am just so exhausted, Maxwell,” she snuggles up to him, her eyes already closed.

“What?” Maxwell chuckles. “You want me to dress you?”

Elizabeth nods her head and snuggles closer to Maxwell.

“Are you sure?” Maxwell asks, lying her down on the bed. But Elizabeth is already fast asleep. He smiles as he walks over to his drawer and pulls out a shirt before making his way back to her. He sits down on the bed and slowly unbuttons the back of her dress. The creamy expanse of her back, bare to him. This reminds him of his first encounter with her, when he first saw her, that day by the river, so long ago.

Maxwell smiles at the memory as he peels her dress away from her body. The site of her leaves him in awe. She is so beautiful, so perfect. He runs his hand over her shoulder, down her arm, and along the spine of her back when he sees her shiver slightly. He smiles softly and gently lifts her up, placing the shirt over her, before he lays her back down and covers her with his blanket.

He stays seated there beside her a moment longer, caressing her cheek, before he stands and prepares for bed himself. He strips to his shorts and slips under the covers, pulling her into his arms. Elizabeth snuggles in closer to him but remains asleep, where as he cannot, or rather will not allow himself to sleep. Instead, he stays awake, drinking in the sight of her, the feel of her. After all, this may be the last night he is able to.



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[clueless]

Great parts! I have a feeling that Khiver has been behind Jeff's illness from the start. He's been slowly poisoning him or something. Well I can't wait to read more, so please post more soon!

[Evelynn]

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Chapter Forty Seven:
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The sun is rising now and Maxwell has yet to sleep a wink. He does not dare blink in fear of losing that minuscule portion of a second with her. But he has to leave. And soon if he wants to be gone before she wakes. It will ruin his plan if she wakes before he leaves. She will want to know what he is doing. And he, being smitten with her like he is, can do nothing but tell her. She will plead with him not to go through with it. One look from her and he will do anything she wants, anything at all.
He stares at his angel again as she lies in his arms. Maxwell brushes her hair away from her face and places a soft kiss on her lips before he sighs and slowly shifts out of bed, careful not to wake her.

Maxwell softly tiptoes to his closet and silently dresses himself. He turns back towards the bed and stares at Elizabeth. She looks peaceful as she sleeps. This is the first time he has ever seen her in the morning, with the sun barely over the horizon, lighting up her features. She is beautiful, as always … his Elizabeth. He will cherish this moment for an eternity.

Maxwell walks over to his desk and picks up the letter he wrote. Last night she had been so close to reading it. What if she had? Had he, deep down, truly wanted her to? To stop him from doing this? To beg him to stay with her forever as they run away together?

Maxwell grips the letter in his hand, glancing at her sleeping form. This will be the first time for her to wake without him there. Will she panic at first? Or will she just go on as though nothing was different. As though nothing had changed in her life. As though he had never existed. After all, is he not merely a … fling … for her?

He softly places the letter on the empty space of the bed, where he would have been, were it any other morning. The sheets are still rumpled. Should he smooth them out, like she has done every morning? Or will she even take notice? He always notices.

Maxwell chances one more glance at her, possibly his last, before turning towards the window and making his way down. He pauses once he is outside. Can he risk another glimpse of her? Or will it be too much? Will one more glance of her force him to stay and never leave her side again?

Maxwell closes his eyes and hastily makes his way down the tree. No, he cannot risk it. Not now, not ever.



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The morning rays of the sun break through the window and her eyes slowly flutter open. She lifts her hands over her head and stretched her cramped muscles before turning over to give Maxwell a good morning kiss, like she does every morning. But when she turns to him, he is not there. Perhaps he has already woken. She smiles at the thought. He has never woken earlier than her before.

Elizabeth shifts over towards his side of the bed, snuggling into his pillow, which still holds his scent. She can wait for him in bed, or she can wonder out, looking for him, but she doubts his parents will take too kindly to seeing her in the hallway this early in the morning, donned in his clothing. Elizabeth scoots further onto Maxwell’s side of the bed. It is still warm from where he slept.

She snuggles in closer and something crinkles as she shifts on the bed. Elizabeth frowns and reached her hand out, feeling for what ever it is beneath her. She pulls out the paper and looks at it strangely. Is this the paper from last night? What is it doing on the bed?

Elizabeth slowly unfolds it. She smiles, recognizing Maxwell’s handwriting. “My dearest Elizabeth, I know you will not approve of my decision …” Her face falls and she shoots up in bed. She finishes reading the rest of the letter and jumps up, pacing.

Maxwell has done something, something bad, and something she will not approve of. And he has does it for her. What can he have done? She stops pacing and hurriedly grabs Maxwell’s robe and ties it around her, making her way out his room and across the hall, where she knocks softly on the door.

No answer. She knocks again and waits. Still no answer. She knocks again, but this time she opens the door and welcomes herself in. Elizabeth practically runs over to the bed and shakes the person awake. “Alexander. Alexander. Wake up.”

“Wha … huh … Elizabeth,” he rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Elizabeth … what is the matter?”

She holds the note up to his face. “Read this.”

Alexander takes the note from her and quickly skimmed down the page. His eyes widen and he shoots out of bed, grabbing his clothes as he heads out the door.

Elizabeth follows after him. “Alexander. What is going on?”

“Maxwell … he has …” he says as he manages to hop down the stairs while getting his pants on at the same time. “He has gone to the courts.”

“The courts?” Elizabeth asks, confused.

Alexander pulls his shirt over his head. “Yes. To … to accuse Khivar.”

“What?!” Elizabeth explodes. “He did what?! Has he gone mad?!”

But Alexander is already out the door and down the street with Elizabeth following shortly behind him.



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The echoes ring out as Maxwell beats the drum, calling forth the courts to report what crime he has to report. Maxwell stops beating. The echoes are deafening as he waits for the doors to open, for them to answer his call.

Seconds pass before the doors slowly pull back. Maxwell gradually makes his way in, taking each step one at a time. Just because he is determined to do this for Elizabeth, does not mean that he is not scared to death. After all, it will be determined in a few minutes whether or not he lives or dies.

Maxwell walks into the huge building as men make their way in, taking their seats at the front of the room. Everything about it, from the benches to the books, reek of authority and power. This is the Royal Courts.

Maxwell walks to the center of the room, his shoes clanking on the tile beneath him.

“State your name,” a cold voice calls out.

“Evans. Maxwell Evans,” Maxwell speaks out, his voice is not as confident as he wants it to be, but he will have to make do.

“And what is it you have to report?” the cold voice calls out again.

“Um …” Maxwell clears his throat, “the murderer of Sean Deluca.”

“Sean Deluca? My son, Sean Deluca?” one of the men speaks up.

Maxwell turns towards the man. “Yes, Judge Deluca. Your son.”

“You knew. You knew this and you are just now telling me?” Whittaker Deluca jumps from his seat and screams at Maxwell.

“Whittaker,” the man sitting at the center of the men calls out in a condescending voice. “You are not to intertwine your personal matters with business. Deal with this as though it were any other. You know the rules.”

Judge Deluca nods his head and keeps quiet.

“Continue,” the voice calls out.

“Well … well … I do not know …” Maxwell stutters out.

“How do you know of who murdered Sean Deluca?” the man asks, somewhat annoyed.

“II witnessed it,” Maxwell says in a low voice, cringing at the involuntary memory of blood and viciousness.

“And who is it that you witnessed murdering Sean Deluca?”

Maxwell takes a deep breath, preparing himself. There is no turning back now. “I witnessed the murder of Sean Deluca at the hands of … Khivar.”

A collective gasp can be heard from all before the room goes silent. Each and every person stares at him with their mouths open wide. The reporter has even dropped his brush in the middle of taking notes. Had they all actually heard what they thought they heard?

“Did … did I hear you correctly?” the man asks.

Maxwell nods his head. “Yes. I said that Sean was murdered by-”

“Look, boy,” the man interrupts him. “I suggest you reconsider what it is that you are about to repeat.”

Maxwell nods his head again. “I have thought long and hard-”

“I will do you a favor,” the man interrupts Maxwell once again. “Why do you not leave now and we will forget that you were ever here.”

“I am sorry, sir,” Maxwell stands his ground. “But I cannot do that.”

“Evans,” the man thought. “Son of Philip and Diane Evans?”

“Yes, sir,” Maxwell nods his head again. “And I will not be backing down. I am here to report the murder of Sean Deluca at the hands of Khivar,” Maxwell repeats his earlier statement with more confidence this time.

The man sighs. “I will give you one more chance here, Maxwell. Just walk away and you will not get hurt.”

“I do not need that chance, sir. I am going to do what I came here to do,” Maxwell says defiantly.

The man sighs again. “Very well. Maxwell Evans, son of Philip and Diane Evans, hereby accuses his Highness’s brother, Khivar, of the murder of Sean Deluca. Guard,” the man calls out. “Take young Evans away and call forth Khivar. The trial will begin shortly.”



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Alexander rushes to the doors, Elizabeth shortly after him. They are both out of breath, both of their legs are exhausted from the run, but both are more concerned than ever to notice. Alexander begins pounding on the doors, screaming for them to let him in.

“Alexander,” Elizabeth calls him. He turns to look at her with an annoyed expression on his face. She points towards the drum near the side of the door.

“Oh,” he says, smiling at her as he bangs away.

Elizabeth has to rush over to stop him. “Alexander! Alexander!” She is finally able to remove the stick from him. “I think they heard you after the first hundred beats.”

“I am sorry,” he apologizes. “I am just …”

Elizabeth gives him a sympathetic smile. “Yes. I know, Alexander. I know.”

They wait and wait, but the doors will not open. Alexander is just about to pound the drum again when a voice calls out from the other side of the large doors.

“I am sorry, but no one is allowed in while a trial is in session.”

“But that trial deals with my brother. You must let me in,” Alexander protests.

“No civilians,” the voice calls out annoyingly.

“Am I a civilian?” Elizabeth calls out, her voice loud. “Are you prohibiting the Princess of Antar access onto royal grounds?”

A loud gasp can be heard as the doors quickly open and three guards kneel down before Elizabeth. “My apologies, your highness. I had no idea.”

Elizabeth brushes past them as she makes her way through. Two guards try to block her from entering the room. She simply glares at them and they both cower, dropping to their knees and begging for forgiveness. And again, she simply brushes past them.

“Amazing, Elizabeth,” Alexander comments. “I had no idea you held this much power.”

But she takes no heed of his remark. Her mind is set and she is determined as she makes her way into the room, in search of him.

Alexander is following three strides behind her. He is about to enter the door that Elizabeth has entered, but someone grips his arm, stopping him. He turns towards his aggressor, about ready to call out to Elizabeth for help, when he notices who it is.

“Alexander, I need your help.”

“Of course,” Alexander answers. “But, Uncle Peter, what are you doing here?”



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Elizabeth leaves a tidal wave of bowed heads as she strides determinedly into the room. She pushes past the doors of the chambers. Each member of the Royal Courts turns their heads with a scowl on their faces, appalled at the notion of someone disturbing them in the middle of a trial and case. But each face falls as they see her, annoyance evident in her stance, and anger in her eyes.

One of the men speaks up. “Princess, what are you-”

“Where is he?” Elizabeth interrupts them.

“Your Highness,” another man answers. “We are in the middle of a trial.”

“I did not ask what you are doing,” Elizabeth bites out, her patience dwindling with each passing second. “I asked where he is. Now tell me.”

She looks towards the men for a response, but none will give her one. Each one of them lowers their heads and refuses to look at her.

Her eyes scan over the faces of the men who are seemingly deciding the fate of the one she loves. “Whittaker,” she calls out, her voice hard and cold. “Where is he?”

“Princess, I … I …” he stutters out.

“I want an answer now!” she shouts, leaving everyone in the room stunned.

“He is … uh … he is …” Whittaker squeezes his eyes together. “He is in the … dungeon.”

“The dungeon?!” Elizabeth’s eyes widen.

“Princess, we must treat every prisoner the same way, we cannot show nepotism towards him simply because he is your …” Whittaker tries to explain, but Elizabeth is no longer listening to him.

“Take me to him,” she orders a guard standing near the door. The guard nods his head obediently and leads the way out the door as Elizabeth follows shortly behind.



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He sits on the hard ground, his knees drawn up, thinking. Thinking. Thinking and wondering about anything and everything. Is Elizabeth awake now? She should be. The sun has risen. She should have woken. Will she panic when she sees that he is not there? Or will she not even notice?

He sighs. So many things are happening at this very instant, so many things to worry over, to fear for, but all he can think of is Elizabeth, and whether or not she will wake feeling cold without his arms around her.

He squeezes his eyes shut and groans. What had he gotten himself into? He should not be here, in this jail cell, waiting for them to call him into trial. He should be lying in bed with Elizabeth, holding her in his arms. Maxwell shakes his thoughts. He cannot be selfish. He must do this … for Elizabeth’s sake.

Maxwell groans again and buries his head in his arms. Things do not look bright on his part. The gods have it in for him, most likely for taking Elizabeth away from them. She is probably to be their next prophesied savior of some sort, that is, until he managed to get his hands on her. Maxwell smirks. Now she is his to worship, and his alone. He sighs. Everything will be worthwhile in the end, no matter what the outcome may be.

Maxwell sighs again and closes his eyes. He has done enough thinking. If things go as he imagined them to, she will hopefully mourn for him for a day, and then forget him the next, moving on to her royal suitors. It is absurd to even think that he and Elizabeth would have worked. She deserves so much more than he can ever offer her. But these damn dreams of his, these hopes he has that they, the two of them, can go off together and live a happy life in a house and raise a family, they are completely ridiculous. They are just so … laughable … Maxwell buries his head in his arms again, shaking his head back and forth as he chuckles despondently to himself.

“What is so funny?” a cold and hard voice calls out.

Maxwell pales, his laughter ceasing, fear creeping over him. He slowly lifts his head, fearful of what he will see. His eyes roam up her robe-clad body, smiling appreciatively at the lovely sight of her. Up until he reaches her beautiful face, daggers practically coming from her eyes as she glares at him, obviously upset. His face falls. An angry Elizabeth is never a pleasant one. Though, she is extremely vivacious when she has her little temper tantrums, and quite feisty at that. He smirks thinking about it.

“Again, what in hell is so damn funny?” her voice rises, dripping with annoyance and anger. Her body is tense as she stands, her hands on her hips, her feet tapping away.

Maxwell gulps. If there is ever a time where he is scared of Elizabeth, this will be it. He takes a deep breath and slowly stands, gripping against the wall for support. “Elizabeth … love …” he coaxes, reaching out for her.

“Love?” she spits at him, swatting his hand away. “What are you doing Maxwell?” The anger suddenly vanishes from her, leaving only fear and worry. “What are you doing, Maxwell?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper as tears enter her eyes.

“Elizabeth …” Maxwell manages out before rushing towards her and pulling her into his arms. “Elizabeth …” he gently strokes her hair as sobs rack her body. “I am sorry. I am so sorry, love. I do not want to hurt you. I love you.” He pulls her tighter to him. “But I need to do this. And you … you need to forget me.”

He continues to run his fingers through her hair, unaware that Elizabeth has lifted her head from his shoulder, glaring at him.

“What?!” her voice echoes through the cell. Maxwell turns to look at her. The mixture of anger and annoyance has returned to her eyes. “I cannot believe you are saying this.”

“What more do you want me to say?” he asks, his voice calm and even, the complete opposite of hers. “I told you, I love you. What more do you want?”

“What more do I want?” she stares at him. How can he be this way? “I want you, Maxwell. I do not want you to tell me that you love me and then leave me. I want you to tell me that you love and stay and be with me forever. I want you to stop this nonsense idea of yours and let us go back to how we are. I want you with me, Maxwell.”

Maxwell lifts his hand and tucks her hair behind her ear. “I love you, Elizabeth. But I need to do this. Not just for you, for me. After all, I am your knight in shining armor, am not I?” he tries to joke, offering her a small smile, but she does not return it. He sighs. “After I accuse Khivar, even if the courts do not side with me, the seed of doubt will be planted and then he wouldn’t dare attempt to harm you.”

“That is your plan?” She shakes her head at him, amazed at his stupidity. “If he wanted to be rid of me, he can still do so after.”

“But at least I tried,” Maxwell says, his determination holding strong.

“And then what will happen to you …” She cannot think the thought. “What will I do then?”

“Elizabeth,” he smiles down at her sadly. “Just … forget me.”

“Forget you,” she says over softly. “That simple?”

Maxwell nods his head. “That simple.”

“Like you just never existed?” There is no more anger in her. She is just saddened.

Maxwell nods his head again, bringing his hand up and caressing her cheek. “It is for the best, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth breaks down and throws herself into his arms, leaning into him. Maxwell wraps his arms around her, soothing her the best he can.

“Will you ever forget me?” she asks him softly.

Maxwell shakes his head back and forth. “Never.”

“Never?” she asks, looking into his eyes.

“Never,” he assures her, bringing her back into his arms.

“Then how am I to forget you, Maxwell?” Elizabeth closes her eyes, allowing the tears to stream down. “I love you. How can I ever forget you? I love you far too much.”

“Then, do not,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. “Do not.”

She pulls back. “Do not what?” she asks cautiously. “Do not what?”

Maxwell still will not open his eyes. He does not want to see the look on her face. “Do not love me.”

Elizabeth shakes her head back and forth. “How do you fall out of love with someone? I just … I do not see how …”

“Just stop,” Maxwell says, his voice coming out harsher than he had wanted.

“No, Maxwell,” Elizabeth says calmly. “You will always be with me. In here,” she lifts his hand and places it over her heart. “Always.”

Maxwell finally opens his eyes, revealing the unshed tears he refuses to let loose. “What do you want from me? What do you want me to do?”

She lifts her hand and gently caresses his cheek. “You still have time, Maxwell. You do not have to do this. They still have yet to hold the trial. You can still take it back. Just tell them that you were mistaken. And that you did not intend on calling this trial or of accusing Khivar. You can still take it back,” she repeats.

He looks at her, lifting his hand from her chest and brings her back into his arms. “But what if they can convict him? What if I am enough evidence to lock him away, and keep him from hurting you?”

She pulls away from him again. “But look at the likelihood, Maxwell. It is a one in a million chance that you can accuse Royalty of anything criminal. Just look at me. I made away with murder.”

“No, Elizabeth,” Maxwell says sternly. “You did not murder him.”

“But the odds, Maxwell. Look at the odds,” she tries to get through to him. “Are you willing to risk your life with those chances?”

Maxwell looks at her intently before nodding his head. “For you, yes.”

“No, Maxwell,” she shakes her head back and forth. “You are not doing this for me. I do not know who in bloody hell you are doing this for, but it is most certainly not for me. If you are doing anything that concerns me at all, it is breaking my heart by leaving me.”

“I am not leaving you,” Maxwell says, shaking his head.

“What do you call this then, Maxwell?” Elizabeth says, waving her hands around.

“I am saving you,” he says matter-of-factly.

Elizabeth laughs. “Saving me …” Tears begin streaming from her eyes once more, but she continues to laugh. “Saving me … saving me?! This is not saving me, Maxwell. This is suicide.”

“Not if I succeed,” Maxwell says lifting a hand to wipe Elizabeth’s tears, but Elizabeth pushes his hand away.

She takes a deep breath and tries to calm herself. “When I attempted to run away, did you want me to join the convent, Maxwell?”

“Truthfully?” he asks, looking at her intently. Elizabeth nods her head. “No,” he shakes his head. “No, I did not and I do not.”

“Well I do not want you to do this,” Elizabeth says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Maxwell runs his hand through his hair. “This is different, Elizabeth.”

“How so?” she asks, pursing her lips defiantly. “I do not see it as any different. I wanted to go away to save you. You are doing this to save me. I was basically giving my life away. You are giving your life away. I was leaving you. And you are leaving me.”

Maxwell groans in frustration. “Just let me do this.”

“No,” she stands straight. “I refuse to let you throw your life away. God, Maxwell. You are only eighteen years of age. You have yet to live. You still have so many hopes … so many dreams …”

Maxwell shakes his head. “I have done everything. I have found you, the other half of my soul. My life is complete.”

“I thought you wanted to marry me,” Elizabeth says desperately.

Maxwell shrugs. “I will settle for saving you. Other than that, I have done everything. I have seen you in the morning, how beautiful you are, how the sun seems to make your skin golden, like a goddess …”

Elizabeth does not respond. Her gaze remains on the ground as she tries frantically to think of a way to change Maxwell’s mind.

“Did I scare you this morning?” he asks, taking a step closer to her.

“Yes,” Elizabeth answers, nodding her head softly.

“What does it feel like, waking up without me?” he asks, a smile on his face.

“Cold,” she whispers, hugging her arms around herself. The way she says the word make chills run down his spine and his heart freeze over.

“Elizabeth …” he pulls her into his arms again, as though to warm her and to compensate for the morning. “Do not worry, Elizabeth. You will not be cold much longer. You will find someone else.”

Elizabeth goes numb. “I cannot do this anymore. Maxwell. I cannot fight for us if you are not willing to fight for us too. So please, do not go.”

Maxwell offers her a smile and places a small kiss on her forehead before pulling her tightly to him. “I love you, Elizabeth.”

“Do not go, Maxwell,” she says again.

“I love you,” he reiterates.

“You will not leave me, will you?” she asks, looking into his eyes.

Maxwell smiles at her. “I love you.”

Elizabeth offers him a sad smile as she leans into the embrace, taking in the feel of having his arms around her for however much longer they have together. She does not push for another response from him, never once questioning that he never answered her. Because, deep down, she already knows his reply. She already knows.

And when the guard comes to inform them of Khivar’s arrival, and of the beginning of the trial, she is not surprised. She knows how stubborn he is. There is no shock when Maxwell removes his arms from around her, places a small kiss on her cheek, and walks away. She already knows, deep down, that he will do anything for her. And when he stops at the doorway and tells her he loves her. She already knows. She does not have to be told.

But she will be damned if this is the last time she hears those words from his lip ever again, even if she has to risk her life to save his. And she knows what she has to do, what she has to risk, and what odds she will be willing to take. She already knows and has always known. Because she will do anything for him as well. She knows.



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[Evelynn]

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Chapter Forty Eight:
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“Are we clear, Alexander?” Pierce asks, stopping his pacing and standing before nephew.

“Um …” Alexander replies, uncertain. “I do not … I do not know …”

Pierce stares the boy down. “I asked, are we clear?”

“Y-yes, yes sir,” Alexander says, he cannot stop himself from saluting to the man.

Pierce chuckles and ruffles the boy’s hair. “Good boy, Alexander. Now remember, not a word to anyone.”

“And Maxwell will be safe?” Alexander asks, trying to reassess the situation.

Pierce continues walking towards the door.

“Uncle Peter?” Alexander calls to him. “Maxwell will be safe, right?”

Pierce stops at the door. “Not a word to anyone.” He takes one last glance towards Alexander and disappears out the door.

Alexander leans back against the table with a sigh, running his hand through his hair in relief. This is quite the predicament he has found himself in. First he finds out that his Uncle Peter is not who he thinks he is. That Maxwell is in a hell of a greater mess than anyone can have imagined. And now, he is being forced to participate in a deadly assignment that can probably get him, along with everyone else involved, killed.

Alexander groans and pushes himself off the table. He walks out of the room just in time to be knocked over by an impatient and apprehensive being.

“Alexander!” she stops pacing and stares him down. “Where have you been?”

Alexander cowers at her tone. “Elizabeth. Calm down. I was just talking to … myself,” Alexander says, catching himself.

“Yourself?” Elizabeth questions, crossing her arms over her chest.

Alexander nods his head and runs his hand through his hair nervously. “Yes,” he chuckles.

Elizabeth’s anger rises. “Well, while you were off talking to yourself, your brother is off killing himself, as we speak.”

Alexander’s eyes widen. “What? Where is he?”

Elizabeth sniffles and wipes at the few tears that makes their way down her face. “In trial,” her voice comes out as a soft whisper.

“Trial? What? There … there is not supposed to be a trial,” Alexander begins to pace. “Did-did not you talk to him? Stop him?”

Elizabeth nods her head. “I tried. But he will not listen to me. He has his mind set. And you, of all people, should know how stubborn he is.”

“Yes, I know,” Alexander agrees. He stops his pacing. “Why are you out here then? Why are you not in the court room?”

“Because men are heinous egotistical Neanderthals who believe they are so high and mighty that they think that women are only small-brained little girls that do not have the mind capacity to participate in such intellectual matters,” she spits out satirically.

“But … you are the Princess,” Alexander says, frowning. “No one says no to the Princess.”

“But I am a girl, nonetheless,” Elizabeth says with a sigh. “Men and their stupid ways. I swear, when I am Queen, this will all change.”

“But I think the King rules over everything, no matter whether they are crowned by birth or by marriage,” Alexander says, his nose scrunches up in thought.

“He will,” Elizabeth says with a smug smile on her face. “But when that time comes, Maxwell will listen to me.”

“He did not this time,” the comment slips out before Alexander can stop himself.

Elizabeth’s face falls. “I know …” she whispers.

They hear a set of drums beat, indicating the court is now fully in session. They both sigh, bowing their heads.

“What do we do now, Elizabeth?” Alexander asks quietly. “We cannot just allow Maxwell to do this.”

“We will not,” Elizabeth says, standing up straight. “Come along, Alexander,” she grabs his hand and pulls him away. “I have a plan …”



--------------



“Father,” she practically shouts while bursting through the doors, startling everyone as they all turn to stare at her. “I have something to discuss with you.”

“Elizabeth,” Jeffrey looks towards her. “Can you not see I am busy here, daughter? We are working out war issues with …”

“Fine. I suppose I am not important to you then,” Elizabeth crosses her hands over her chest and huffs. “I guess I will just leave. I should have stayed on Mount Roswell where at least Kyle will love me.” She feigns tears, turns, and leaves, knowing full well her father will come after her.

Jeffrey lets out a sigh and stands from his chair with the help of a cane and a guard. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I must have a word with my daughter,” he mutters as the rest of the group tries to hold back their snickers, understanding the tantrums of little girls themselves.

Jeffrey walks staggeringly out of the room while two guards lead him to Elizabeth’s chambers. “Elizabeth?” He raps softly on her door.

Elizabeth stops pacing from inside when she hears the knock. She turns towards Alexander with a smug look on her face. “See? Did I not tell you?”

Alexander smiles. “Yes. Yes, you did.” He bows to her in respect.

Elizabeth smiles with satisfaction and then begins ushering Alexander away. “Now, go hide in my closet.”

Alexander mock-salutes her. “At once, your Highness.”

Elizabeth makes a face and points towards her closet door. “Go.”

“Elizabeth? May I come in?” Jeffrey’s voice comes through louder.

Elizabeth makes certain Alexander is no longer in sight before she heads towards her door and unlocks it. “Yes, father.”

Jeffrey shoos the guards away and Elizabeth helps him to take a seat on a chair in her bedroom. “Now, what is all of this about?”

Elizabeth takes a seat on the bed. “Well, father. I have made a decision in my life.”

“And what is that?” Jeffrey asks, leaning back and crossing his hands over his chest, trying to calm his breathing.

Elizabeth holds her head high and tries to look as happy as can be. “I have decided to abdicate my birthright as heir to Antar to devote myself to the gods above.”

Jeffrey sits up and stares at her. “You are going to join a convent?”

“Yes, father,” she smiles widely.

He stares at her longer before he begins shaking his head frantically. “But you cannot. Without you, who will rule?”

Elizabeth just shrugs her shoulders and smiles sympathetically. “I have made my decision.”

“But you have a responsibility, a duty …”

“Now, father,” Elizabeth interrupts him. “If you will excuse me, I have made up my mind. And I am rather tired.” She helps him out of her room and into the hallway.

Jeffrey stands staring at the closed door, thinking. “Guards! Call my advisors! I will meet with them at once!”

“But, your Highness,” one of them answers while the other one helps support the King. “The Royal Courts are in the middle of a trial.”

“I do not care,” Jeffrey says forcefully. “Summon them at once. There are more important matters to deal with right now, like the fate of this Kingdom.”

“Yes, your Highness,” the guard bows his head and takes off in a hurry.

“So, it worked?” Alexander comes out of his hiding spot and sees Elizabeth peaking outside her door at her father’s retreating figure.

“Yes, it did.” She spins around, facing him.

“And this is going to get Maxwell out of trouble?” Alexander takes a seat on the bed.

“No,” Elizabeth shakes her head sadly. “But it will buy us time so that you can come up with a plan to get Maxwell out.”

Alexander shakes his head from side to side. “I have thought and thought about this, Elizabeth.”

“Well, think some more,” she orders him as she begins pacing.

“And if I cannot come up with a plan?” Alexander asks at a whisper.

Elizabeth stops and turns towards Alexander, her face grave. “Alexander, that is not an option.”



--------------



The judges come out of their room and take their seats once again. Clearing his throat, the high judge speaks. “Well, we have reviewed your claim and have determined that your evidence is not sufficient as proof to convict his Royalty, Khivar, of such indictments. Therefore, Maxwell Philip Evans, you are hereby guilty with the charge of false accusations of Royalty and are sentenced-”

“Wait!” A man bursts through the door, halting the trial.

“What is this?” the high judge is outraged. “This is a Royal Trial that is in session. You are not allowed to barge right in and-”

“By order of his Highness, King Jeffrey,” the guard holds up the Royal Pendant for verification. “His royal advisors are to meet with him at once.”

Each member of the Royal Court bows to the golden emblem of their King and follows the guard obediently out into the carriages, leaving the room all but empty, with the exception of six people. Two guards, two judges, Khivar, and Maxwell.

“Excuse me,” one of the guards calls out to the judges. “Will you be continuing the trial?”

The judges look uncertainly at each other before one of them speaks. “I am uncertain. You see, we are just newly appointed. And this is only my first trial. It is only his second,” the man points towards the judge beside him.

“Well, gentlemen, I will be happy to help you out,” Khivar stands up from his seat and walks over behind the judges’ desk. “After all, I am Royalty, am I not? Who better to judge and sentence the boy?” Khivar glares at Maxwell, but Maxwell holds his ground strong.

The other judge timidly speaks up. “Actually, I do not think …”

“Maxwell Philip Evans,” Khivar’s voice thunders out, overshadowing the judge. “I hear by sentence you to be whipped and imprisoned for life.”

“But you cannot …” the judge tries to intervene but Khivar once again ignores him.

“Guards, take him away,” Khivar orders, but neither of the two guards will budge. He looks pointedly towards one.

But the guard simply stares back. “I am sorry, Khivar. I have been given strict command to take my orders only from the Royal Courts.”

“Fine,” Khivar huffs and then turns towards the other guard, who is shaking in fear. “You. Take the prisoner down to the dungeon. I will administer the punishment myself if I have to.”

Khivar stands, waiting. “Now!” he yells.

The guard jumps and runs over towards Maxwell, looking at him apologetically. Maxwell simply nods his head. “It is all right. I forgive you.”

The guard bows his head towards Maxwell before pulling him up and steering him down towards the dungeon.

Khivar glances around the room at the remaining three men, smirking at them before heading down to the dungeon himself, grabbing the whip from the remaining guard’s belt on the way down.



--------------



“So that is the plan, Alexander,” she informs him from the alley behind his home, where he has agreed to meet her.

“Are you sure about this, Elizabeth?” he asks, soaking in everything that she tells him.

She looks him in the eyes, her face solemn. “Positive.”

He sighs. He does not like this. But it is the only feasible plan at the moment that does not involve anyone dying in the process. “Alright. What do you want me to do?”

Elizabeth smiles. She knows she can count on Alexander. “All I need for you to do is to pack Maxwell’s things for me.”

“That is it?” Alexander asks with another sigh.

“Yes,” she nods her head. “I can do everything else on my own from there. Pack light, Alexander. We will be leaving on horseback.”

“As you wish, Elizabeth,” he bows his head to her. “I will bring his things by right away.”

She places a hand on his arm and looks at him sincerely. “Thank you, Alexander.”

He pulls her into an embrace. After all, this may be one of the last few times he ever sees her again. “Good luck, Elizabeth. And take care.”

She smiles at him as she pulls out of the embrace. “Thank you. And remember, do not let anyone know of what I am doing.”

“I will not,” he replies, nodding his head and watching her as she makes her way out of the alley, disappearing around the corner.

He sighed again, waiting a while longer before heading back into his home. My, how his life has changed. Last year, he was little Alexander Evans, youngest son to one of the wealthiest merchants around, brother to the great Maxwell Evans and the aggressive Michael Guerin. And that was it. There was not any more to it.

Now, though, he is Alexander Evans, still the son of one of the wealthiest merchants around, but also beau to one Isabella Valenti, one of the most sought out young women in the city.

And Michael Guerin is no longer Michael Guerin, but rather, Michael Evans, official son of one of the wealthiest merchants around and fiancé of one Rosemary Valenti.

And Maxwell. Maxwell’s life has been jerked about and is the most complicated of the three. Maxwell found a girl, pined and sought after her for the longest time, and with a relationship finally starting to form, she faints into unconsciousness. And then she wakes up again and he confesses his love to her, only to be turned down again and again.

And then her life is threatened and Maxwell goes to rescue her and Alexander finds them in a cave. And then everything is fine until a Nicholas incident occurs and Elizabeth tries to run away. But Maxwell manages to stop her. Khivar returns, Maxwell accuses Khivar and is now waiting in jail. Which brings us here, with Alexander packing Maxwell’s things into a bag.

Alexander sighs again. With all that has happened, at least Maxwell and Elizabeth will be together and Maxwell will be happy. And so long as Maxwell is happy, Khivar, the King, the Royal Court, and everyone standing in the way can all be damned as far as Alexander is concerned.

“Alexander, I have been looking everywhere for you.”

Alexander spins around abruptly, startled by the voice. “Uncle Peter. When did you get here?”

“I just arrived.” Pierce walks towards Alexander. “What are you doing in Maxwell’s room?”

“I … um … I was just …” Alexander takes a deep breath. “I am packing Maxwell’s things.”

“What for?” Pierce begins eyeing Alexander as Alexander turns around and begins filling the bag with more items.

“Maxwell is going to need it.” He walks from the dresser over to Maxwell’s trunk and opens it up, rummaging through it.

“Who told you to pack Maxwell’s things?” Pierce asks, walking over to Alexander just as he stands.

“Elizabeth,” Alexander says, moving towards the loose floorboard and lifting it up.

“What for, Alexander?” Pierce asks, his eyes narrowing.

Alexander shrugs his shoulders, still not looking at Pierce. “I do not know.”

“What for, Alexander?” Pierce repeats, his voice rising.

Alexander sighs. He is not going to lie to his Uncle. “Maxwell and Elizabeth are going to be leaving together.”

“You mean run away?” Pierce stands directly in front of Alexander.

“Yes,” Alexander lifts his head and looks his Uncle in the eye. “And I am helping them.”

“Alexander,” Pierce warns. “We have a plan to stick to.”

“Well this plan that Elizabeth conjured up with is a better one,” Alexander says, standing tall.

“How so?” Pierce raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No one gets hurt,” Alexander states matter-of-factly.

“If Maxwell and Elizabeth run away, no one gets hurt?” Pierce asks, lifting both eyebrows.

“Precisely,” Alexander nods.

Pierce groans and throws his hands up in the air. “If Maxwell and Elizabeth run away, everyone gets hurt!”

“No, they will not,” Alexander says calmly.

Pierce lowers his voice and tries to speak peacefully with Alexander. “Look, Alexander. If our plan succeeds, then we can finally capture Khivar and put an end to his madness. You do not know how many people he has killed and how many more he will kill if we do not stop him. We can rid the world of this evil tyrant, but I need you to help me by stopping Elizabeth from running off.”

“But your plan does not guarantee Maxwell and Elizabeth’s lives,” Alexander argues. “It does not guarantee that they will not be harmed.”

“We are out to capture a ruthless murderer, Alexander,” Pierce says exasperatedly. “Someone is bound to get hurt.”

“I know,” Alexander sighs, running a hand through his hair, “but … if something happens to Elizabeth, Maxwell will kill me.”

Pierce speaks calmly and evenly. “Ever war has its casualties.”

“That is not comforting, Uncle Peter,” Alexander glares at his Uncle.

“It is not meant to be,” Pierce says, his voice still calm and even.

“Uncle Peter,” Alexander whines.

“Alexander, Pierce says, taking an authoritative tone. “We are going on with my plan whether you like it or not. Are we clear?”

Alexander does not respond.

“Consider this, Alexander,” Pierce says, trying to appeal to Alexander’s logical side. “Maxwell and Elizabeth may be safe if they run away, but for how long and at what cost? We have the capability to end this right now. Are you with me?”

Alexander sighs and nods his head. “Yes, sir.”

“That is good, Alexander,” Pierce pats his nephew on the back and heads out the room, stopping at the door. “Everything will work out in the end. You will see.”

Alexander sighs, tying up the bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Let us hope so.”



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[Evelynn]

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Chapter Forty Nine:
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She makes her way down the stairs, her shoes echoing through the dark room with each step she takes. She stops, standing beside the guard stationed at the entrance of the cells.

“Let me see the prisoner,” her voice is authoritative and commanding.

“Yes, your Highness. Right away,” he bows his head and quickly makes his way past the lines and lines of vertical bars until he finds the cell she wants. He swiftly unlocks the gate, allowing her to enter and waiting until she shuts the bars behind her until he hurries off, giving her the privacy he knows she wants.

“Maxwell,” she calls out to him, but he remains lifeless, faced away from her on the floor.

“Maxwell,” she tries again, but still, he doe not respond.

She walks over slowly and towers over him as he lies on the floor. “Maxwell Evans …” But still, no response. She leans over to take a look at him and what she sees makes her nauseous. Blood. Blood caked to his face, stained in his clothes, and drying on his skin.

She gasps back and rushes towards the door. “Guard!” she screams out, gripping the bars of the cell.

The guard comes running, a sword in hand. “Yes, my Queen?”

“T-there.” She points towards Maxwell, lying motionless on the ground.

He glances at the figure and then back to her. “Yes, your Highness?”

“Why … why is he not moving?” She takes another look at Maxwell before turning away, the site of him too much for her to bear.

The guard shrugs his shoulders. “He has been that way since Khivar left.”

Nancy stares at him, unbelievingly. “And you have left him like this? Why did you not bring forth a doctor?” She stands high once again, looking down feverously at the guard standing before her, her annoyance obvious.

The guard cowers. “I-I will immediately.” He turns to leave, but her voice stops him, calling him back.

“No. The doctors are with the King, for precaution. Call forth two guards to carry him out. I will take him to the infirmary,” she says, glancing towards Maxwell again.

The guard hesitates, fidgeting. “I am sorry, your Highness. Although you are the Queen, even you are not allowed to remove prisoners from-”

But Nancy stops him, holding up the Royal Pendant for the guard to see. “Call forth two guards to carry him out.”

“At once, my Queen.” He bows his head before scurrying quickly away.

She sighs before hiding the Royal Pendant within her sleeve. If Jeffrey or the guard sees her with it, or finds that she stole it, it will only bring further trouble. She squats down beside his body, laying him gently onto his back, and checks to make sure he is still breathing. “Do not worry, Maxwell. It will be alright.”

“Elizabeth?” His eyelids begin to flutter, but it does not seem as though he has the strength to open them.

“You will see her soon enough,” Nancy sighs. Elizabeth will be devastated.

She stands and walks back towards the bar doors of the cell once she hears the telltale clanking of the guards’ boots.

Two guards enter the cell to carry Maxwell’s body out while the third guard holds the door open as Nancy leads them out of the dungeon.

They walk through the elaborately decorated corridors of the palace at a hurried pace, the Queen guiding the way as the guards carrying Maxwell’s body follow shortly behind, heading toward the infirmary.

Nancy takes a left turn towards the other side of the palace. “This way,” she orders the guards.

But the guards stop, not following her. “Your Highness, the infirmary is down this hall.”

“I said to bring him this way,” Nancy says, pulling the Royal Pendant out for the guards to see. They follow her, silenced.

Nancy walks quickly until she reaches the door to the room she is looking for and pauses in front of it, taking a deep breath to reconsider, fully, what she is doing and what all she is putting at risk before knocking on the door.

The door creeps open slowly. The person on the other side had not been expecting her. “Yes, Mother?”

“Hello, Elizabeth,” the Queen frowns slightly at her daughter’s weariness of her, but quickly covers it up with a smile. “I come bearing gifts.” She steps to the side and turns towards the guards. “Place him on the bed.”

“Yes, your Highness.” They quickly make their way into the bedroom without question.

“Maxwell?” Elizabeth’s eyes follow them as the guards place him in her bedroom before she turns towards her mother. “How?”

Nancy smiles. “I have my ways.” She pulls the Royal Pendant out of her sleeve and hands it to Elizabeth. “This will help you on your way out of the palace.”

Elizabeth’s fingers trace over the gold emblem, bearing the Royal Seal of Antar. “How did you know I was planning on leaving the palace?”

“I am your mother,” Nancy explains. “I know what you are thinking, what is going on in your mind. I also know how much you love him. It was only a matter of time before you left the palace, your home, and your family to be with him. And I think this was as good a time as any.”

Elizabeth stares at Nancy with a smile on her face. “Thank you, Mother.”

Nancy’s smile grows. “It is the least I can do.” She suddenly frowns. “I know I am the worst mother to have done the things I have to you. But-”

“You are forgiven,” Elizabeth interrupts her. “You did what you did. But I never hated you for it,” she explains, shaking her head.

Nancy takes a step forward, reaching out and smoothing Elizabeth’s hair back with so much pride in her eyes. “I will always love you, Elizabeth. You will always be my darling girl.”

“I know,” Elizabeth smiles, nodding her head at her mother.

Nancy pulls her daughter into her arms, whispering to her. “Be happy. Do what ever it is you want to do. Be whatever it is you want to be. Just be happy.”

“I will be,” Elizabeth assures her before Nancy pulls away and takes a few steps back, glancing down the hallway. “You are leaving now?” Elizabeth asks, glancing down the hallway as well.

“Yes,” Nancy nods her head. “I suppose it is far past time for me to visit my family,” she adds with a look of despair.

“Do not worry, Mother. Grandmother Claudia will forgive you too,” Elizabeth smiles reassuringly towards her mother.

“Let us hope so,” Nancy whispers as Elizabeth glances towards her bed. Nancy sighs. Elizabeth obviously did not see what state Maxwell was in as he was brought in. “Elizabeth … about Maxwell …”

“Yes?” Elizabeth turns towards her mother, not liking the dismal tone of her voice.

“He is not in good condition,” she says, trying her best not to alarm Elizabeth too much.

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asks cautiously.

Nancy sighs and says the one word that is to explain it all. “Khivar.”

Elizabeth gasps horribly, covering her hand over her mouth. “Is he … is he going to be alright?”

Nancy brings the girl into her arms again, trying to soothe her. “Shh … it is alright, dear. You will make him better.”

Elizabeth pulls away, confused. “But … how?”

“You will figure it out.” Nancy smiles, smoothing Elizabeth’s hair back once again. “My darling girl. I hope you know that I will forever love you, and I will miss you.”

Elizabeth smiles appreciatively towards her mother, though her concerns are still with Maxwell. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Guards,” Nancy calls for them from the doorway.

“Yes, your Highness?” the guards come quickly from setting Maxwell down on the bed.

“Let us go,” she orders.

“Yes, your Highness.” They leave out the door and wait for her in the hallway.

“Good bye, Elizabeth,” Nancy says, hugging her daughter one last time.

“Good bye, Mother,” Elizabeth says, pulling out of the embrace and watches the three figures leave the hallway. She glances around to make certain no one else has seen them entering with Maxwell, gripping the Royal Pendant tightly.

Once she shuts her door, she rushes to her bedside, tears forming in her eyes as she sees him, lying almost motionless on her bed, his clothes torn with slashes and blood stained to it. She walks over vigilantly, unsure of what to do.

Once she reaches him, she cannot stop herself from slowly reaching out and touching him, to convince herself that he is here, that he is real. She smiles at all that has happened. Her mother has brought him here to her along with the Royal Pendant. She will not have to go down to get him herself. Fate seems to be on her side.

Her eyes refocus down on Maxwell again and the smile slips from her face, remembering the state he is in. Blood is caked to his face, to his skin. He is bruised and battered, beaten and whipped. Because of Khivar.

“Maxwell,” she whispers softly, caressing his cheek. “What did he do to you?”

He winces slightly as her fingers trace over his bloody lip. She pulls back frightfully before rushing to call forth a servant, ordering them to bring water immediately. And once it is brought, she accepts it from the door, not allowing them inside her quarters, not wanting them to see or hear Maxwell.

She wrings a cloth in the water and, sitting down on the bed, gently presses it on his skin, wiping away the blood and dirt from his face and neck. Once she is done, she wrings the cloth in the water again before working on his arm, cleaning away the blood, careful around his wounds.

She then lifts his right hand, placing it in her lap while she cleans off his upper arm down to his elbow, and to his palm. But when his fingers curl weakly around her hand, she gasps, somewhat startled, and looks towards his face to see his eyes open, staring at her.

“Am I in heaven?” his voice is faint and frail.

She stares back at him. What all had Khivar put him through to have him believe that he is dead? If his wounded body is any indication, he must have been put through … no, she cannot finish the thought as her eyes begin to water again. She shakes her head slowly. “No, Maxwell. This is not heaven.”

“Am I in hell? Are you here to torture me, posing as her?” his bottom lip trembles slightly, but he does not remove his hand from hers.

Torture him? How can his body handle any more? She shakes her head, reaching out her free hand to caress his cheek. “No, Maxwell. You are alive. You are here … with me.”

His eyes seem to brighten as a weak smile forms on his lips. “Elizabeth?” His fingers tighten slightly around hers. “I thought I would never see you again.”

“I am here, Maxwell,” she says, scooting closer towards him on the bed, but freezes immediately when he winces. She scoots back, biting her bottom lip as tears begin to stream from her eyes, seeing how much pain he is in. “Maxwell.”

“Shh …” he forces his hand to reach up and wipe at her cheek. “Do not cry.”

She reaches up and grabs his hand, laying it back down on the bed, glancing over all of his cuts and bruises again and gasping. “What did he do to you?”

Maxwell shakes his head weakly. “It is not as bad as it looks.”

“Maxwell,” she breathes out his name again as the tears continue to fall.

He reaches out for her again but his hand is halted by a knock on the door. Both still as they turn toward the noise. Elizabeth gives Maxwell a look and he nods his head, wordlessly agreeing to be as silent as possible.

Elizabeth stands and walks towards the door, calling out to the other side. “Wh-Who is there?”

She waits, but there is no reply. Slowly, she opens the door and peeks her head into the hallway. She notices a bag on the ground, picks it up and glances around the hall for the possible owner before opening it up, smiling, and returning to Maxwell, closing the door behind her.

“Who was it?” Maxwell asks when she walks back in and sits back down on the bed.

“Alexander,” she answers with a smile. “He left your bag at the door.”

“What for?” Maxwell asks, his eyebrows knitting together.

“We are leaving, Maxwell,” Elizabeth says softly as she takes a deep breath. “We are leaving here … to go to a place where no one will know us … where we can be together. Will you come with me?” Elizabeth holds her breath, waiting for his response.

“Always, Elizabeth,” his answer comes almost immediately.

She sighs, her voice still soft. “It means you must give up your parents, your family.”

“But I will be gaining you,” he answers with a small smile.

Her heart swells and she smiles. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispers back, forcing his face to smile. “When will we be leaving?”

She sighs, seeing how far she has come in her plan to get Maxwell away, but she is not quite there yet. “Soon, but not now, not until you rest. We cannot travel with you injured to this extent,” she says, glancing over all of his cuts and bruises once again as the tears form in her eyes. “Why did you have to do this, Maxwell?”

“I would do anything for you,” he says gravely.

She laughs sadly and shakes her head. He went through all of this pain … because of her. “It accomplished nothing other than to severely wound you. And to leave me alone,” she turns away from him on the bed, wiping at her eyes.

There is a long silence before Maxwell reaches out, grabbing lightly at her arm. “Do not be angry.”

She sighs, turning back towards him. “It is hard not to be. But I am not angry with you, Maxwell. Simply … frustrated. I do not want you to leave me … ever.”

“I will not. Never again, Elizabeth,” he promises her. And he means it. Despite anything, he will never leave her side, ever again.

She leans down to kiss him, but once her lips touch his, he winces slightly in pain, though he tries to hide it.

She pulls away and closes her eyes tight before ducking her head and opening her eyes again, staring down at her chest when she sees blood on her dress. Not her blood, Maxwell’s. She looks back at him. More blood soaks through his shirt. She probably pressed on a wound when she leaned in to kiss him.

Elizabeth takes in a shaky breath and picks up the washcloth, wringing it in the water again before shifting back towards Maxwell, carefully unbuttoning his shirt. Once she is down to the last button, she pushes his shirt open, his chest bare to her and she gasps again. “What did he do to you?”

“It is not as bad as it looks, Elizabeth,” Maxwell repeats his earlier statement seeing how much she is hurting over his pain.

“You went through all of this … for me,” she states, running her hand over his chest. He winces again and more tears come to her eyes. “Maxwell …”

Tears roll down her cheeks, one falling onto Maxwell’s chest. She looks down to wipe it away, but can only stare on as the cut that the tear landed on begins to glow, lighting up with silver before vanishing away, leaving his skin unscratched. She gasps, all that her mother was saying fully registering in her mind. She licks her lips and leans down and places a soft kiss on another cut on his body and watches in awe as it magically heals itself.

“Elizabeth, what are you doing?” Maxwell smiles out upon feeling her featherlike touches on his skin. He feels more relaxed, as though she is rejuvenating him, giving him her strength.

“I can take the pain away,” she whispers softly to herself with a smile.

“Elizabeth?” he calls to her softly.

She looks up at him with desperately loving eyes. “I want to take the pain away. Please, Maxwell? Let me take the pain away.”

He stares at her, taking in all that she is saying, all that she means, and the pleading and loving look in her eyes. “Yes ...”



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[Evelynn]

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Chapter Fifty:
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“Alexander, where did you disappear to for so long?” Alexander is questioned as soon as he steps back into the hallway.

“Oh, I … um … I went to … I got lost,” Alexander replies, hoping he cannot see straight through his lie.

“Well, hurry. I need you here so we can get everything underway,” the tone of voice left no room for questioning as they enter the room.

Alexander sighs and follows obediently. He glances around the room filled with men, very large and muscular men, each holding a sword in hand. Alexander feels uneasy, to say the least. “Uncle Peter, I still do not see why I must be here.”

“I am going to explain the plan to you and introduce you to all of these people,” Pierce motions towards the others in the room. “They are here to make certain that the plan runs smoothly, or as smoothly as a plan like this can go.”

Alexander edges closer towards the door still. “And I still do not see what this has to do with me.”

Pierce grabs his nephew by the shoulders. “I am trying to assure you that all of these men are here to risk their lives in making certain that no one gets hurt.”

“I am sorry, Uncle Peter,” Alexander shrugs off Pierce’s hold and takes several steps away, “but I still do not feel any more assured about this. This is Elizabeth’s life at stake here. If anything should happen to her, Maxwell will never forgive me. I will never forgive myself.”

Pierce sighs, shaking his head. “Well, that is the best I can offer, Alexander. You will just have to trust me and take my word for it. Now, whether you agree or not, this plan will go into action. Khivar has already sent word for me,” he turns towards the men. “I want everyone ready and prepared. If I do not return within twenty minutes, you know what to do.”

“Yes, sir!” each man salutes him as he heads for the door. Pierce takes one glance back at his nephew. “Everything will turn out fine in the end, Alexander. You will see. Just sit back and relax,” he adds before exiting out the door.

“Easier said than done,” Alexander says as he falls back into a chair, scrubbing his face with his hands. Things can either go terribly wrong, or terribly right. He is praying for the latter.



--------------



Elizabeth continues to simply stare at him, watching him as he sleeps. His eyelids close, his mouth partly open, his breathing even. Is it possible for him to be this beautiful, this perfect, and yet mortal? He is her very own Adonis for her to worship. And it seems somewhat unfair for her to have such an incredible beauty of a man all to herself. Though, she will never share him with another. Never. He is hers to love and hers alone. And love him, she had, with her mind, heart, soul, and now her body as well.

A chill runs through her as she thinks about what transpired between them. No, she will not regret what happened. She can never regret something so magical, so amazing. And neither will Maxwell. Will he?

Sighing, she runs her fingers over his bare chest, which is now without bruise or cut. Not a trace of Khivar’s ruthless torture is evident on his body. His body is whole again, but Elizabeth is not certain of what pain still remains lingering in his mind while having to endure such physical torture, torture so brutal, he believed himself to have been dead.

The guilt runs through her mercilessly. She is the reason Maxwell went to confess to the courts. She is the reason Maxwell was put through such pain. He had done it all for her. And she will spend the remainder of their lives together to repay him.

She watches as Maxwell begins to stir in his sleep. He tosses and turns, a frown on his face, his breathing frantic. Elizabeth leans over, brushing his hair back and caressing his cheek, his shoulder, and his chest, trying her best to soothe him. He turns to his side, reaching for her and pulling her to him before he settles back down, his breathing evening, returning to sleep.

The feel of his arm over her bare waist is still a new sensation to her, and to have his entire body pressed intimately against hers leaves Elizabeth’s body humming. She closes her eyes and leans into him, giving into the feeling, letting Maxwell rush over all of her senses. This is how she will spend the rest of her life, in his arms.

There is a soft knock. Her eyes widen and her panic grows as she stares at the door. She tries to calm herself. The door is locked. Is it not? Had she locked it last? From what she can recall, she had opened the door to retrieve the bag Alexander left, brought it in, closed the door and … oh dear God. She had not locked the door. And now all she can do is stare helplessly as there is another soft knock before the door handle turns slowly, the door opening.

She pulls the covers higher over her and Maxwell’s bodies and wait her inevitable doom.

“Elizabeth,” the King whispers as he steps slowly into his daughter’s bedroom, still using his cane to steady himself. “I am sorry to disturb you, dear, but I …” he stops, standing there, frozen as he stares on. There she is, his daughter, his only child, obviously in a state of undress from the site of her bare shoulders sticking out from under her covers, while also trying to cover up the body of one, Maxwell Evans. “Elizabeth! What in God’s name is this?!!?”

“Sshh …” Elizabeth tries to quiet her father down. This is quite the predicament that she is finding herself in, but Maxwell is still asleep. And he needs his rest if they are to leave come morning. “Father, please. Maxwell is still asleep.”

“I do not give a DAMN if he is still-”

“Father,” Elizabeth pulls the sheets further over herself. “Please.”

Jeffrey is fuming. To say he is angry is an understatement. He is livid. How can she? And that boy? He grips at his chest, his heart tightening, its beating erratic. “You,” he points towards her, his other hand still gripping his chest. “I want to talk to you in my quarters, now!” He struggles out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Elizabeth glances down at Maxwell, holding her breath as he begins to stir once again. He, again, rolls over, pulled her to him, and falls back to sleep. Elizabeth sighs, waiting a few seconds longer before slipping out of his grasp and out of bed. She hurriedly dresses and takes a deep breath. Glancing back at Maxwell, she brushes back his hair, caressing his face, smiling at him. No matter what punishment she will have to endure, it will all be worth it if she will be able to be with Maxwell.

She softly places a kiss on his forehead before heading out of the door and down the hall towards her father’s quarters, taking a deep breath before knocking and entering.



--------------



“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. Have a seat, Pierce,” Khivar says, motioning towards a nearby chair.

“Yes, sir,” Pierce says, doing as he is told before continuing his talk with Khivar. “Will we be continuing with our plans soon?”

“There has been a slight change in plans,” Khivar says as he stares down at Pierce, circling about him.

“What changes?” Pierce asks cautiously. Things can go all wrong depending upon what Khivar has in mind.

“I was contemplating our little situation. With Jeffrey ill, his powers dormant from the poison you slipped into his drink, which I must applaud you on your work. No one suspects a thing. And since you have also slipped it into Elizabeth’s drink, as well,” Khivar pauses, stopping and turning a questioning gaze on Pierce. “You have given her the poison, have you not?”

“Yes,” Pierce says, keeping his face straight the best he can and nodding his head.

“As I was saying,” Khivar continues, “with both Jeffrey and Elizabeth weak, their powers useless, it will be as simple for me to eliminate the both of them as stealing toys from an infant.”

“Yes,” Pierce nods his head slowly, not liking where Khivar is going with this, “it can be that simple.”

“It will be that simple,” Khivar states, turning back towards Pierce. “Which means that I am no longer in need of your services.”

“What?” Pierce jumps from his seat. No, things are not right, at all.

“Guards!” Khivar calls out. Two men appear and grab Pierce, each holding one of his arms securely behind his back. “Dispose of him properly. I have my dear brother and his daughter to tend to,” Khivar says with a smile before heading out the room and down the hall.



--------------



“… and I am BEYOND disappointed in you,” Jeffrey continued on with his lecture, which he started from the moment she set foot into his room. “Do you not realize that you are the Princess? Princesses do not behave in this manner. Not just princesses, any proper girl would not behave the way that you do. Until you are wed, you have no right to …” he cannot finish, his anger boiling. His chest is heaving. He takes several breaths trying to calm it, but one look at her and rage runs through him once again. “Do you have anything to say for yourself!?”

“No,” Elizabeth speaks softly as she shakes her head. “I did nothing wrong.”

“Did nothing wrong?! You do not see what you and that … that boy did as wrong?!? You were acting like a whore!!”

“I am not a whore!” she rebukes, standing to her feet, defending herself. “Maxwell and I love each other. And when people feel the way that we do for one another, they express that love.”

“Not in that way! Not until you are wed!” Jeffrey bites out, clutching his chest once again.

“Then Maxwell and I will marry,” she says it as though it is the most obvious thing in the world.

“No,” Jeffrey says simply, shaking his head.

Elizabeth blinks several times, staring at her father in disbelief. “What?”

“No! I forbid it! I will NOT allow you to marry such a … a heathen. Not only will you not marry him, but I forbid you from even seeing that boy ever again,” Jeffrey crosses his arms over his chest and turns away from her.

“You cannot do that,” Elizabeth whispers, running around to face her father.

“I will do as I please,” Jeffrey says in a tone that is final. “You are my daughter and I can have that boy’s life with a snap of a finger.”

Elizabeth’s lip trembles, her eyes waters as she drops to her knees. “Father, please. I love him.”

Jeffrey shakes his head, turning from his daughter once again. “You will learn to love others.”

Elizabeth stares down towards the floor. “You love mother,” her voice comes out as a whisper.

“And look at what that has brought me,” Jeffrey explodes, still clutching at his chest. “You see how she betrayed me? How she treated you?!”

“But I forgive her, and I love her,” Elizabeth says slowly, letting everything she says sink in. “And you still love her too. And I know that she is still in love with you, very, very, very much so.”

Her father remains quiet, though his breathing hard.

She stands to her feet and turns him towards her, staring straight into his tired, aging eyes. “Can you ever love another?”

“I hate to intrude on such an emotional father and daughter moment …” a voice rings through as the doors come flying open. “Oh, bloody hell, who am I to kid? Of course I love to intrude. What fun will it be if I did not?”

“Khivar, leave my quarters this instant,” Jeffrey orders, pointing out the door.

“I am terribly sorry, Jeffrey, but I had other plans in mind,” Khivar kicks the doors shut behind him and strolls his way into the room.

“Can you not see that Elizabeth and I are discussing something at the moment?” Jeffrey asks, irritated. “What do you want?”

“Simple, brother,” Khivar says, pulling out a sword from behind him. “I want your heads on a platter.”



--------------



The air is leaving his lungs at a rapid pace as one of the guards continues to grip his neck, pinning him to the wall, the other helping to pin his arms and legs back. Pierce begins to choke and cough as he struggles to breathe.

And all he can think of are the many ways in which he can detach Khivar’s evil head from its body. But he will not be the one to punish Khivar. No, Khivar will be sent to the Royal Courts where they will think of a suitable and torturous punishment for his hateful crimes. And Pierce will watch on happily.

He struggles against the guards once again with no avail. His mind is blanking, darkness beginning to devour him. And Pierce begins to regret. He regrets not ending this dangerous career of his. He regrets not having yet married Kathleen, not yet starting a family with her. He regrets not having made Philip proud of him. And he regrets not being able to watch Khivar receiving the penalty he deserves. His life has been meaningless and he only wishes to go back and make things right.

But it is too late. The blackness consumes him, leaving him nothing to do but wallow in it. But in the back reaches of his mind, he can hear a voice.

“Unhand him this instant.”

Pierce’s body comes crashing to the ground with him gasping for breath as the guards narrow in on poor Alexander.

“And who will stop us,” the bigger of the two guards chuckles. “You?”

“No,” Alexander shakes his head. “But they will,” Alexander smirks as blades came across the guards’ throats as other members of Pierce’s men unarm the guards and begin tying their arms and legs together, gagging them and tossing them to a corner.

“Uncle Peter, are you alright?” Alexander comes rushing up to his Uncle, patting him on the back as he helps him to his feet.

“Yes … I am … I am fine,” Pierce gasps out, leaning on Alexander for support while still catching his breath. His head suddenly shoots up. “We have to hurry. No time to lose. Or we might be too late.” He rushes out of the room, his men following him, leaving Alexander standing there alone.

He sighs, picking up the two guards’ swords and taking a seat in a chair. There is nothing left for him to do. He might as well stand guard here while everyone else is off, saving the day, leaving him behind.



--------------



“What do you think you are doing, Khivar?” Jeffrey asks, still limping as he pulls Elizabeth to stand behind him, warding Khivar off with his cane.

Khivar laughs. “I am taking what is mine. You never should have been made King. You are too much of a weakling to rule.” He steps closer to the two, his sword swaying about in front of him, the tip aimed towards Elizabeth’s and Jeffrey’s heads.

“I am sorry to inform you, little brother, but you are not exactly suitable to be King. The Royal Blood does not run through your veins, does it?” Jeffrey stands taller, pulling Elizabeth further behind him. He will protect his daughter with his life. But who will protect him? Where are his guards?

“But with you and your tramp of a daughter dead, who else is there to rule? Nancy?” Khivar chuckles, circling around Jeffrey as Jeffrey continues to pull Elizabeth out of Khivar’s view. “She is far too preoccupied whoring herself off to every man in the Kingdom.”

“Do not speak of my mother that way,” Elizabeth steps out from behind her father but Jeffrey pulls her back again.

“Shut your trap, little girl. I should have gotten rid of you earlier when I had the chance. But no, that stupid little boy had to come in and rescue you. Well, where is he now, Elizabeth?” Khivar laugh maliciously. “Why, he is down in the dungeon, dying away slowly and painfully.”

Tears come to Elizabeth’s eyes as she remembers the bloodied and pained state that Maxwell was in when he was brought to her. How can someone be so cruel?

“I might have given him a quicker death, like the one that I had given Sean, had he pleaded for his life. But did he? No. He pleaded for your life. ‘Please do not hurt Elizabeth.’ ‘She means the world to me.’ Pathetic little boy, all cut up, maggots eating him alive in the dungeon.”

More tears run down Elizabeth’s cheeks. She cannot hold back the sob that comes from her.

“No need for tears, my dear. You will join him soon enough.” Khivar lunges at the two.

But Jeffrey pushes Elizabeth back and jumps out of the way, falling to the ground, groaning weakly.

Khivar laughs haughtily as he starts towards Elizabeth. She is inching back towards the wall, panic running through her.

“Leave her alone,” Jeffrey strains out, gripping his side as he struggles to stand to his feet.

Khivar turns back around, menacingly towards Jeffrey, snickering. “Do not worry, Jeffrey. I will make certain you are there to watch every second of her death. And no matter how much pain she may look as though she is experiencing, I will make you will feel it ten times worse.”

This is her chance. While Khivar has his back turned to her, Elizabeth edges slowly closer, her Father’s cane in her hand as she brings it up above her, ready to knock it down hard over his head.

Khivar spins around, grabbing the cane. “What do you think you are doing, little girl?”

Elizabeth gasps and lets go before backing away towards the wall once more. Khivar smiles while coming towards her, cane in one hand, sword in the other.

“KHIVAR!”

The doors burst open and Khivar spins around. “Pierce …” he says, lifting an eyebrow at him as men come rushing into the room, through the front door and through the secret passageway as well.

“You are surrounded. There is nowhere for you to go,” Pierce says loudly. “Now, drop the sword.”

Khivar throws the sword and the cane on the ground, kicking it towards Pierce.

“Good.” Pierce motions for a few men while his eyes still remain glued on Khivar, ready to attack him at the slightest motion. “Grab the King and take him to the infirmary immediately.”

Two men come forth and scoop the King up from the ground and rush him out of the room. All that remains in harm’s way is Elizabeth. Once they can get her to safety, then they can close in on Khivar and capture him.

He gives Elizabeth a quick glance and she nods her head knowingly before inching her way slowly away from Khivar.

But Khivar catches on, grabbing her wrist and jerking her towards him, pulling a dagger from his sleeve and holding it against her throat.

Elizabeth gasps and holds her breath as the cool blade is pressed to the skin of her neck. She can almost feel it piercing her.

“Back away or I will hurt her,” Khivar says, gripping her tighter to him and glancing around at the men in the room.

“Even if you hurt her, there is nowhere for you to run, Khivar,” Pierce says slowly, trying to reason with him.

“But I will still manage to take her to hell with me. Now, back away,” he orders. The men slowly back away. Their orders are to capture Khivar, but not at the price of the Princess’s life.

Khivar backs his way towards the door of the secret passageway, still holding Elizabeth hostage.

Pierce watches on helplessly as Khivar drags Elizabeth away with him, backing through the secret passageway. Everything is going wrong. Why had he not stationed more men about that exit? He had men guarding the hallway in case Khivar had managed to escape through the door, but all of his men that were in the passageway were all a part of the ambush and are now in the room.

He watches on as Khivar and Elizabeth disappear through the dark door and is about to call his men after them when Elizabeth reappears through the door, followed by Khivar, still holding a dagger to her throat, followed by Alexander, holding a sword to Khivar’s head and another one to Khivar’s back.

“Let her go,” Alexander speaks through clenched teeth as he pokes the sword into Khivar’s back. Khivar holds the dagger closer to Elizabeth’s throat and she squirms, closing her eyes and concentrating.

Khivar is far outnumbered. If he does not let her go soon, he will probably die. If he tries to escape he will die, and if he is captured, he will be tried and hanged, or worse yet, tortured. There is no way out. But at least he will be able to take her life. “She will go to hell!” he screeches out and jerks the dagger back against her throat.

But it will not budge. He pulls back again and again but the dagger remains there. “What?” he lets go and it stays there, hovering in the air as everyone stares on in awe.

Elizabeth opens her eyes and the dagger drops to the ground. Alexander shoves her and she falls forward, two men running up, grabbing her and whisking her away.

Alexander stands there with a smile on his face as he winks at his Uncle. Pierce smirks back before motioning for his men. “Bound him, men,” he says with a laugh as two men come towards Khivar with ropes. “Khivar, you are hereby captured and will be trialed for attempted murder of the King, twice attempted murder of the Princess, murder of Sean Deluca, among other crimes that will, without a doubt, be linked to you. And if not, we will find a way to link them to you. Have fun in hell,” Pierce says with a snicker as the men lead Khivar out.



--------------



Elizabeth is brought to the infirmary, despite her protests of being fine. She is not hurt in any real way, other than from being pushed several times and possible bruising on her arm and neck. But they bring her in, nonetheless.

Once inside, she pushes the doctor away and runs towards her father, who lies on a bed as another doctor examines him.

“Father …” she whispers to him.

Jeffrey opens his eyes. “Elizabeth …” he whispers back, a small smile on his face. “Are you alright?”

“I am fine. But you …” she bites her lip, holding back her tears. He looks pale, far too pale and weak, not like the strong King that he is meant to be.

“I will be fine,” he whispers to her, he holds her hand in his. “I will be fine.”

Elizabeth nods her head with a small smile. She sighs. Is it finally over? Khivar is now captured and in trial. All is well. And she will not have to run away with Maxwell. “Maxwell …”

“That boy …” Jeffrey huffs, letting go of Elizabeth’s hand.

“Father …” Elizabeth tries to plead with him.

“Elizabeth, you are Royalty. You must learn that duty comes first,” he lectures her sternly. “He must learn that duty comes first.”

Elizabeth lowers her head, staring at the ground. Why does everything always come between them? Perhaps this is fate’s way of telling her that she and Maxwell are not meant to be.

“Elizabeth,” her father starts, a determined look on his face. “I have made up my mind. I have come to an agreement. And whether you are satisfied with it or not, you will follow it.”

Elizabeth looks down at her Father as he lies there on the bed, eyeing him warily, “what sort of agreement?”



--------------



Maxwell runs about the room frantically, holding the sheet around his body as he searches the room. The warning still ringing through him, he is about ready to dash out the door as is.

“Maxwell …” Elizabeth opens the door and finds him in a frenzied state. “What is the matter?”

He rushes to her in a hurry and pulls her to him. “Are you alright, Elizabeth?”

“I am fine,” she pulls out of his arms and eyes him curiously. “Why are you so worried?”

“I had a dream … and you were calling me … and … I needed to get to you … but I cannot find my clothes,” he flushes, pulling the sheet higher around him.

Elizabeth smiles, blushing slightly. “Oh.”

“Did something happen?” he asks, tracing a red line across her neck.

“Yes,” she replies happily. “Khivar has been captured and is on trial as we speak.”

“Captured?” Maxwell’s eyes widen, sparkling.

“By Alexander, no less,” Elizabeth informs him.

“Alexander. My Alexander?” Maxwell asks, astonished.

“Yes,” Elizabeth nods her head. “He saved my life, you know?”

“Well,” he pulls her back into his arms, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “I will have to thank him then, will I not?”

She pulls out of his arms again. “You will find your clothes in that bag,” she points towards the bag that Alexander had brought by earlier.

Maxwell walks over and picks it up. “So, we will not be going away, will we?” he seems somewhat disappointed.

She is a bit disappointed as well. “No, we will not,” Elizabeth shakes her head and sighs. “You should head home, Maxwell. Your parents are probably worried sick, and they will send for me soon to go testify to the Royal Courts what all I heard Khivar confess.”

Maxwell gives her a reassuring smile, running his hand down her arm. “Everything will work out fine.”

She nods her head with a sigh. “I should leave you ... to change, so that you can go.”

“Alright,” he smiles at her and gives her another soft kiss on the forehead. “I will see you tonight?”

She looks up at him, his eyes hopeful, shining and glimmering. She cannot bear to tell him the truth. Nodding her head, she whispers, “Yes, Maxwell.”

“Alright,” he smiles warmly at her again.

Elizabeth turns to walk away but spins back around, wrapping her arm around his neck, and lifting herself up to kiss him.

“What is that for?” he smiles at her, his arms still wrapping around her as she pulls her lips away.

“Something to remember me by,” she whispers softly, pulling out of his arms once again.

“To tie me over until tonight?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Something of that sort,” her voice is almost broken. She has to leave and she has to leave now, or she never will. She plants another soft kiss gently on his cheek, letting her lips linger a few seconds longer before she pulls away. “Goodbye, Maxwell,” she whispers as she walks out the door, not glancing back.



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[Evelynn]

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Chapter Fifty One:
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He stares out his window, waiting for her. But he knows. He knows she will not show. She will never come. She has not come for two months now. And he is beginning to give up. He began to lose hope after the third week and now it is two months, two whole months. But nevertheless, he waits. Every night he waits, and every day he ventures to the palace, trying to gain entrance, to see her, speak with her, but the guards will never allow it. And after two months of waiting, the day finally comes.

“You wished to see me, father?” he asks, stepping into his father’s office.

“Yes, Maxwell. Have a seat,” Philip points towards a chair.

Maxwell sits, staring across the desk at his father, waiting for Philip to go on.

“Maxwell …” Philip takes a deep breath, “your mother, brothers, and I are all concerned for you. All you do is mope about the house all day and we are all worried. ”

“I do not mope about the house all day,” Maxwell says, shaking his head. “I go outside.”

Philip sighs. “Going to the palace to try to see her does not qualify as going outside.”

“What more do you want from me, father?” Maxwell slumps in his chair, aware of the mess that he is. “I miss her and I …”

“I realize that, Maxwell. But it has been two months. I do not want to be some sort of bearer of bad news,” Philip says, shaking his head, “but you need to realize what it is happening here, Maxwell.”

“What is happening, father?” Maxwell asks, his jaw clenched. “Would you like to explain to me what all this is going on between Elizabeth and I?”

“That is just it, Maxwell,” his father speaks gravely, “there is no you and Elizabeth. And you need to see that. You need to accept it.”

“I cannot,” Maxwell says, biting his lip and turning his head to the side. “I just cannot.”

Philip sighs. “Alexander and Isabel are engaged.”

“Really?” Maxwell asks. “I am happy for them.”

“Yes,” his father agrees. “We will be holding an engagement ball for the two after we hold Michael and Maria’s wedding ceremony.”

“Have they picked a date?” Maxwell asks somewhat nonchalantly. He does not wish to speak of marriages and engagements at the moment. It is rubbing salt in an open wound.

“It will be a summer wedding,” Philip says, nodding his head.

“That will be nice,” Maxwell replies, still not looking at his father.

“That gives us a season to plan and organize the ceremony,” Philip continues. “And then we will hold Isabel and Alexander’s engagement ball in the fall.”

“That is nice,” Maxwell replies again.

“It is strange. Normally, you marry off your eldest first, not last,” Philip says, sitting back in his chair.

“What are you implying, father?” Maxwell asks, finally looking forward.

“I always thought you would be married by now,” Philip confesses.

“I am sorry if I do not meet the standards you have set for me, but …”

“Maxwell,” Philip warns.

Maxwell huffs. “I want to be, I truly do. But it is difficult when the love of your life will not even allow you to see her, let alone marry her.”

“Not all marriages are for love, Maxwell,” his father says in a quiet voice.

Maxwell swallows, his voice hushed as well. “What are you implying, father?”

“Maxwell, you will not be …” Philip takes a deep breath. “Not everyone marries for love, Maxwell. And you will be one of those that do not.”

Maxwell stares back blankly. “What are you trying to say?”

Philip takes another deep breath before opening his briefcase and placing a paper down on the desk before Maxwell.

“Father?” Maxwell asks, refusing to look down. He knows what it was. He knows this day was coming. He just wishes it had not.

Philip sighs. “Arranged marriages are not unpleasant. Many marriages out there begin for political reasons but they do not end to be …”

“But you do not believe in these types of marriages,” Maxwell interrupts his father.

“I do not want you like this, Maxwell,” Philip shakes his head. “I do not want you pining over a girl that you cannot have.”

“I have only been without her for two months,” he cries exasperatedly, standing from his seat.

“Two months in which you should have realized the truth!” his father argues back, standing as well.

“And what would that be?” Maxwell asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That the two of you are not meant to be together, Maxwell. You were never meant to be with her. She is above you. Face it, Maxwell,” Philip pauses to prepare himself to say what he is to say next. “You meant nothing to her. What the two of you had was a fling, a fond memory. And it is time for you to move on.” Philip places a small pad of ink before Maxwell.

Maxwell stares on blankly, his jaw clenched, his lip quivering, trying his best to keep his tears in. He is fighting on, gripping desperately at the last strand of hope he has left.

Philip sighs, going in for the kill. “She does not care for you, Maxwell. She has not bothered to contact you in two months. She obviously does not love you. I doubt she ever did, and she never will.”

Maxwell swallows hard, dipping his thumb into the ink and pressing it to the paper below him, signing his soul away. He removes his hand and turns his back, walking away. “I hope you are happy,” he mutters before shutting the door, storming up the stairs to his bedroom.

Philip sighs, sitting back down in his seat. “I just want you to be,” he mumbles before placing the document back into his briefcase to deliver to the judge’s home. He needs the judge to make the document official as soon as possible. After all, Maxwell’s marriage is set in three days.



--------------



“Three days?! That is absurd,” Alexander says, pacing in Maxwell’s room. “How did father manage to talk you into this? Three days?!”

“Why not? It is an arranged marriage,” Maxwell explains. “There is no use wasting time. What is the difference? Three days? Three months? They are all the same.”

“Would you listen to yourself, Maxwell?” Alexander stops his pacing and stares down at his brother who continues to lie passively on his bed. “What about Elizabeth?”

“What about her?” Maxwell rolls his eyes and turns on his side, away from Alexander.

“Maxwell,” Alexander says in a soft voice. “You cannot lose hope.”

“Leave me be, Alexander,” Maxwell mutters. “I am tired.”

Alexander sighs before heading out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

Light still streams through Maxwell’s window. He closes his eyes, shutting it all out. All he wants to do is sleep. Day one wastes away.



--------------



“Maxwell, dear,” Diane peeks into his room. “Shouldn’t you be up? It is well past noon.”

“I am tired, mother,” he calls out, his head still buried in his pillow. “Leave me be.”

“Maxwell, you cannot go on like this,” she says, opening the door and standing inside his room.

He squeezes his eyes shut, pulling his pillow over his head. “Leave me,” she hears him mutter again.

Diane sighs, shaking her head at the sight of her once bright and cheerful son, now withering away in his room. She leaves, softly shutting the door behind her.

Maxwell turns in his bed, pulling his sheets around him, staring down at his pillow. If he closes his eyes, he can still see her, her hair splayed on the pillow beneath her, her lips halfway parted, her skin smooth and soft under his fingers, the feel of her, the taste of her …

Maxwell groans, tossing the pillow to the floor and pulls the covers more tightly around him, closing his eyes to sleep. There he can feel her, see her, bask in her warmth, hear her sweet voice, only to wake to an empty bed. Sleep is his torture, his hell, his bliss, and heaven all wrapped in one.

He closes his eyes, welcoming it. Day two wastes away.



--------------



“Maxwell,” light enters from the hallway as his door was pushed open.

“Go away, Michael,” Maxwell calls out, turning away, his back toward Michael.

“You cannot do this,” Michael says, walking into Maxwell’s room and pulling his curtains back, letting light into his brother’s room.

Maxwell hisses and buries himself deeper into his covers.

“Maxwell, you have been in here for days,” Michael says, stalking over to the bed and pulling the covers away from Maxwell.

“Your point being, Michael?” Maxwell asks, pulling his pillow over his head.

“That is it, Maxwell,” Michael rips the pillow away from him. “You are going to get up, get dressed and go outside. You look as pale as the dead.”

“I am dead inside,” Maxwell says, sitting up.

“Well you do not have to look it,” Michael rebukes, rummaging through Maxwell’s closet and throwing clothes at Maxwell. “Go to the warehouse. Carry cargo. It will get your mind off of things.”

Maxwell growls and groans but Michael manages to force him to dress and successfully shoves Maxwell out of the house before Maxwell can even think to fight back.



--------------



Maxwell stands about, staring down the street. He hates it. The children playing gayfully about, the townspeople smiling and chatting happily away. He despises them all.

He would rather be at home, in his bed, rotting away. But if he returns any time before dinner, Michael will not allow him inside. So he stalks about, his hands in his pocket, kicking rocks, and wasting time.

He walks down endless streets, corners, and alleys. And miraculously enough, no one bothers him. No one seeks to talk to the once great Maxwell Evans. Because Maxwell Evans is no more. Maxwell Evans ceased to exist and in his place is a withering and lonely soul, in search of his other half.

“Pardon me,” a sweet voice calls out after he mindlessly walks into her.

His head picks up, his heart pounding, eyes widening as he turns to her. “Elizabeth.”

“Maxwell?” She looks back towards him, taking in his features. He looks somewhat hollow. She offers him a small smile. “Hello.”

“Hello? That is all you have to say to me?” He finds it hard to breathe. To have her here in front of him, to see her after so long, he cannot believe his eyes. Is she real?

“H-how are you?” she fidgets nervously. This is an awkward situation she is in. What is she to say to him?

“Where have you been?” Maxwell asks, his breathing still shallow, the moment too much for him to handle.

“In the palace. Where else would I be?” she tries to joke. But he is not smiling.

“Why …” Maxwell takes a deep breath, trying to calm his emotions. “Why have you not come to see me?”

“I have been busy,” Elizabeth offers lamely.

“Busy?” he chuckles out sardonically.

“Yes,” she nods her head.

“Busy doing what?” he spits back, his anger coming forth.

“I have duties, Maxwell. I had to focus on my duties,” Elizabeth speaks calmly.

“For an entire two months?” he breaks down, his pain and confusion evident in his face, in his voice.

“I am a princess. I have obligations and duties I must tend to that others do not have to concern themselves with,” Elizabeth tries to say it all as though it is enough. But even she knows it is not.

“Oh, and I am just a lowly merchant’s son, what would I-”

“I did not say that,” she ruthlessly interrupts. “I only said that I was busy.”

“And in the past two months you could not set aside two minutes of your time to see me?” his lips quivers. He tries to control his emotions, but the two months of misery come back upon him in one massive wave.

“It takes more than just two minutes to travel from the palace grounds to here, Maxwell.” She bites her lip and continues to look away from him.

“But I came to the palace. I came everyday. And everyday they would not allow me in because you did not want to see me.”

The exasperation in his voice nearly does her in, but she holds strong. “I never said that.”

“The guards told me, Elizabeth. They said those were your exact words,” he spits out ferociously at her.

Elizabeth shakes her head, taking a deep breath. “What do you want from me, Maxwell?”

“What do I want from you?” Tears are forming in his eyes. Her coldness to him right now is more torturous than anything he has ever felt before. “I want an explanation for why you disappeared off the face of the planet, sending my whole world out of spin. And I want a reasonable one. Not just because you were busy.”

“As the Princess I have certain duties and obligations I must uphold,” she says softly, biting her bottom lip, staring down at the ground.

“Duties and obligations?” he chuckles sardonically again.

“Yes,” she nods her head. “I have my studies to keep up with. Meetings that I must attend. Talks with my father. Working on my etiquette, poise. All of these obligations.”

“And duties? What of those?” he continues to smile sadistically.

Elizabeth takes a shaky breath before she speaks. She cannot take much more of this. “My duty as the Princess of Antar is to prepare myself to one day become Queen and produce an heir for the throne.”

Maxwell guffaws, still remembering back to their last few moments together. “So you have been spending the last two months trying to produce an heir? Because if you wanted to be with child, Elizabeth. You could have just come to me. I would have gladly-”

“Maxwell, stop this,” she brings her hand up to her stomach.

“You do not know what I have been through these past two months. It has been hell. Everyday I would sit outside the palace, begging them to let me in, to just let me speak to you. And every night I would stare outside my window, waiting for you,” he stares at her, waiting for any type of reaction from her.

But she still stands there, her arms crossed over her chest.

He glares at her. “Have you even thought of me once in the past two months?”

Her head shoots up. Her eyes narrow. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I want to know that you miss me too,” he spits out. “I want to know that you have suffered just as much as I have because if you had it would make me feel that much better.”

“I miss you, Maxwell,” she confesses. “I have. But duty comes first. You must learn that. I know my duty. What is yours?”

“To love you.”

“No, Maxwell,” Elizabeth says, shaking her head with a sigh. “A duty is not something you simply want or desire. It is something that you have to do without question … without choice.”

“Exactly. Do you think that I want this? That I choose to love you? Because I do not. You do not know how many times I have tried to get over you. How many times I have tried to forget you ever existed. But I cannot. I cannot even go through a day without thinking of you, wondering what you are doing, if you are thinking of me too.

“Stop it, Maxwell.”

“Why? Does it hurt, Elizabeth? Does it hurt to know how much pain I have been through? How much I have been pining away for you so much that you consumed my every thought, but you are too concerned with learning how to sit straight or the proper way to hold a fork. God, I just wish you would have never walked back into my life.”

She looks at him, turns on her heel, and walks away.

“Elizabeth,” Maxwell groans out, grabbing for her. “Elizabeth, I did not mean that. I was upset and-”

“Do you hate me so?” she whispers softly.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Never. I could never hate you. I love you far too much.”

He waits for her to speak, to give him any type of reaction, but she does not. She merely stands there. And when it looks as though she is about to walk away, he tries to think of something to say, anything at all.

“Um … Alexander and Isabel are going to become engaged.”

“They are?” she offers a small grin.

“Yes,” he nods his head. “Their engagement ball will be held in autumn, shortly after Michael and Maria’s wedding in the summer.”

“Oh, it will be lovely,” she offers another weak grin.

“What are we, Elizabeth?”

“What do you mean?” His question is such a quick change of topic, she does not know what to say.

“I mean … a-are we together?” he asks, the desperation returning to his voice.

“Together?”

“Can you tell me, because I …” he breathes in a shaky breath, “two months ago I was certain I knew the answer to that but now I am … I do not know. Tell me.”

“Duty comes first,” she whispered. “Learn that, Maxwell.”

“Do you love me?”

She stares up at him before turning her head away. “You know the answer to that question.”

“It has been two months, Elizabeth,” he says, scrubbing his face. “Remind me.”

“Michael and Maria will have a summer ceremony? It will be beautiful, will it not?” she tries to change the subject.

“And it looks as though I will be having a spring wedding,” Maxwell snorts, shaking his head and looking away from her, whispering. “I am engaged, Elizabeth. I am marrying tomorrow evening.”

“I know, Maxwell,” her voice is as equally soft. “Why do you think I am allowed to see you?”

“Marry me,” he takes a step towards her.

But she steps back. “You are engaged.”

“I will tell my father to call it off. I do not want anyone but you,” Maxwell says desperately.

“You cannot, Maxwell,” Elizabeth says, shaking her head. “It is written. The papers are signed. My father showed them to me. There is no way you can call it off. You have your duty, your obligation,” she says with a sigh.

“It is not what I want,” he grabs her hands and holds them to him.

“It is never what we want, Maxwell.” She slowly slips her hands from his, biting her lip. “But you need to learn, that duty must come first. And …” she cannot handle any more. She cannot keep control of her emotions any longer. “I should go.”

“Go? No,” he shakes his head, reaching for her.

But she steps from his grasp. “Maxwell. I need to leave. I have things I must do.”

“Elizabeth, no. I-I have not seen you in months. I-I have so much to say to you.”

“I am sorry, Maxwell,” she shakes her head slowly. “But I must go.”

“Meet me tonight,” he pleads with her. “Please?”

“I do not think that is such a good idea,” she says reluctantly.

“Please, Elizabeth,” he is groveling now, begging her for this.

She sighs, looking away from him. “How important is it that I be there?”

“Very,” he says with all of the desperation, confusion, hurt he is feeling.

She nods her head softly before walking away.

“I will pray that you come this time,” she hears him whisper from a few feet away and stiffens, her back to him, her lip trembling, and tears falling from her eyes.



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[Evelynn]

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Chapter Fifty Two:
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He told her he would pray that she show. And pray, he does. Never mind that he should be asleep and resting. Never mind that tomorrow is, theoretically, to be the most important day of his life. Never mind that he is to be wed by tomorrow evening to a complete stranger. He needs Elizabeth here. He needs for her to be with him, in his bedroom, at least one last time. He needs to feel her in his arms once more. He needs to know that he means something to her, anything to her. And he needs her.

So when the moon is full in the sky, midnight strikes, and it is well past their normal meeting hour, he gives up all hope. He stands from his desk, where he waited, and goes to his bed. He lies down, pulling the covers about him, closing his eyes and imagining her there, on the bed, beside him.

Elizabeth climbs the tree with trouble. Had it been months ago, she could have climbed its limbs with ease. But it is not months ago. Time has passed and things have changed. It has been a strong test on her will but she has managed. She survived. And here she is, slipping through his open window once more.

She walks quietly toward him. He is turned, faced away from her, lying asleep. She sits down softly, her weight shifting the bed. He rolls back, gazing up and squinting at her. “Elizabeth?”

He sits up, a smile on his face before it slips away, replaced with a frown. “You are late.”

“Only by an hour,” she whispers, offering him a smile.

“By two months, Elizabeth,” he speaks gravely, staring straight at her.

She sighs, her shoulders slumping. “What did you wish to speak with me about?”

“I simply …” he takes a deep breath. “I am confused. I do not understand what all is happening.”

“Maxwell,” she shakes her head. “You had me come because you are … confused?”

“Yes,” he nods, eyeing her.

She rolls her eyes. “You made it seem as though it were a life or death situation.”

“It is,” he says exasperatedly. “I am dying here without you and you are being cold to me.”

“Maxwell, stop it. Stop this,” she spits out.

“Why?” he snarls back. “It is the truth.”

“I …” she throws her hands in the air. “I do not need to hear this, Maxwell.”

“Yes, you do,” he insists. “I am pouring my heart out to you, Elizabeth. The least you can do is listen.”

She looks away, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Elizabeth …” he whispers, reaching for her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. “What happened to us?”

She slowly pulls her hand away. “What else did you wish to discuss?”

Maxwell stares at her for the longest time, trying to find something in her eyes, her face, her look, anything that he used to recognize. “Do you love me?”

“Maxwell …” she drones. “Do not do this.”

“Do you?” he presses for an answer.

“Of course I do. Do not ask me these sorts of questions,” she says, shaking her head, her lips trembling, and tears slipping from her eyes.

“Then let us run away together,” he grabs for her hand once more. “Just the two of us.”

“We cannot,” she shakes her head weakly.

“We will go somewhere where no one knows us,” Maxwell continues. “We can start a family and-”

“We cannot, Maxwell,” Elizabeth interrupts. “You have a duty. And you need to uphold it. You need to learn that duty comes before everything. Before hopes, before dreams, and before love. You need to learn that, Maxwell. It is what my father wants to teach you. It is what I have been trying to tell you.”

“But can they not go hand in hand?” he pleads, begs.

“They can,” she whispers, nodding her head. “For the fortunate ones, they can.”

He stares down at their hands, tracing his fingers along her knuckles. “Why are we not fortunate?”

“We were, Maxwell,” she speaks as equally soft. “We are.”

He leans in closer to her, pulling her hand to his lips. “Promise me something?”

“Anything,” she whispers back. How can she ever deny him?

“Promise me, in the next life, that you will wait for me. You will wait until I find you. And we will be together?” he looks at her, hopeful.

She sighs. “I cannot promise that. Through the next life, you only know what your soul remembers. And your soul remembers very little.”

“But my soul remembers yours,” he replies, pulling her closer to him. “My soul knows you. Through an eternity it will know you. I will find you and we will be together. If not in this life, then in the next.”

She gazes into his eyes and surrenders. She sighs. She knows she cannot stay strong in his presence. She knows she will not last long against him. “We will be together, Maxwell. I promise.”

He leans in closer to her. His lips hovering dangerously above hers before she pulls away, slipping her hand from his. “It is growing late. I should be going to allow you to rest.”

She goes to stand from his bed but Maxwell pulls her back. “Stay with me.”

Elizabeth frowns, shaking her head. “I should not.”

He grows desperate. “Be with me. We have one night left together, Elizabeth. Be with me, just one last time.”

She eyes him carefully. “What are you asking of me, Maxwell?”

“I just …” he takes a shaky breath in his frantic state. “I need this. When I close my eyes, I can still see you, feel you beneath me. It haunts me, Elizabeth … that day … in the palace … together.”

“What are you asking of me?”

“Make love with me. Stay with me for the night,” he frantically pulls her to him.

Elizabeth pulls back, unconsciously rubbing her hand along her stomach. “How could you ask that of me? Do you expect me to be your mistress?”

“No,” Maxwell groans out. “I just … I need this. I need one more memory with you to pull me through this life and into the next.”

She shakes her head. “You have a memory. We had our moment.”

“I need another,” he runs his fingers through her hair, bringing her closer to him again. “Those thoughts are not clear. My memory of it is somewhat hazy.”

“Perhaps because you are not meant to remember them, Maxwell. Perhaps it was not meant to be.” She tries to pull away from him again but he will not allow her.

“But it was, Elizabeth,” he pulls her closer to him, whispering softly into her ear before placing soft kisses along her jaw, down her neck.

“Maxwell …” Elizabeth calls out, closing her eyes and leaning into him.

“Elizabeth …” Maxwell moans out, pulling her dress to the side.

“Maxwell, please,” she whispers, feeling him tug at her clothing.

But he pays no heed to her request.

And when she feels his hands on the back clasps of her dress, she comes out of her haze. “Please stop.”

Maxwell halts, slumping over, leaning his head on her shoulder and in her hair. “Please, Elizabeth. Please just give me this.”

She pulls away, shaking her head slowly and unconsciously running her hand along her stomach. “You are asking for too much, Maxwell.”

“I know,” he closes his eyes and nods his head but pulls her back to him. “Can I hold you?”

She tries to pull away but cannot. “I should leave.”

“No, Elizabeth,” Maxwell shakes his head, his eyes still closed.

“You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow, Maxwell.”

Maxwell sighs. He cannot fight with her any longer. He is too exhausted. “Just lie with me. Please. Just for a moment.”

She gives in, softly brushing his hair from his face, gently caressing his cheek. “Always.”



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He wakes alone to an empty bed. The sheets where she laid are smoothed out, like how she always leaves them.

He groans, draping his arm over his eyes and slipping back into sleep. He does not want the day to begin yet.



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“Maxwell, you should be dressed,” his father walks into the room, standing beside the bed. “The ceremony is but an hour away. Everyone is waiting downstairs.”

Maxwell groans, turning his back towards his father. “I refuse.”

“I beg your pardon?” Philip asks, exasperatedly.

“I am not going through with this,” Maxwell will not look at his father. Instead, he shifts over in his bed, pulling his sheets about him.

“You must,” his father says in a condescending tone.

“No,” Maxwell answers, squeezing his eyes shut. “I cannot. I need her. Only her.”

“Maxwell,” Philip sighs. “You know what you must do,” he says before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.



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An hour later, Maxwell stands grimly at the front of a room, at one end of a long white carpet, rose petals strewn about, Alexander to his side, and a preacher before him. He tries not to think of the wedding. Instead, in his mind, he is coming home from work, exhausted and Elizabeth meets him at the door with a kiss.

But the people are all seated, the house filled with guests. Congratulations are uttered to him and many shake his hand, wishing him the best. Maxwell pays them no heed. In his mind, he and Elizabeth are sitting by a fire, telling one another of the other’s day.

The music begins to play and a hush falls over the crowd. But in his mind, Maxwell is busy retiring to bed with his Elizabeth, watching her as she slowly drifts to sleep, in his arms.

He sighs as the preacher begins to speak, Alexander nudging him to pay attention. But he ignores them, closing his eyes. In his mind, the sun is just rising, he and Elizabeth are just waking, smiling at one another, through half-wakened eyes.

“Now join hands,” the preacher calls out.

He feels hands grab his. He slowly opens his eyes and stares down at them, narrowing his eyes at her small, gloved fingers, familiarly laced through his. He slowly lifts his hand, trailing it about her wrist and bringing it to him. A golden diamond bracelet gleams and sparkles up at him.

Ha gasps. With his breathing shallow, he gently releases his hold on her wrist, bringing his hand to the edge of her veil, slowly lifting it, cautiously. Hoping … praying …

She stares back at him, biting her lip softly. “Surprise,” she whispers, her sweet voice singing out to him.

“Elizabeth …” he whispers, staring back at her.

“I hope you are not disappointed,” she smiles nervously, unsure of how to act.

Maxwell takes several deep breaths to regain his composure. “What is going on?”

She shrugs slightly, biting her lip. “I know my duty, Maxwell. It is time you learn yours.”

He blinks several times. Is this a dream? “What is my duty, Elizabeth?”

“It is to your people first,” she answers.

“My people?” Maxwell asks, confused.

“It is what I have been trying to tell you. It is what father has been trying to teach you,” Elizabeth shows him the Ring of Royalty, bearing the seal of Antar, before lifting his hand and slowly sliding it onto his finger.

“You have an obligation to your people first,” she whispers to him with a small smile. “And then to me … and to our child.”

“Ch-child?” he stares down at her. “You are …” he watches her nod her head, placing his hand over her stomach.

“That is your duty, Maxwell,” she reaches her other hand up to caress his cheek. “We will see if you are able to uphold it.”

“Is that a challenge?” he asks, gently kissing her hand and gazing down at her lovingly.

“Do you accept?” she asks softly, smiling up at him.

“Always, Elizabeth,” he returns her smile. “Always,” he whispers before leaning down and capturing her lips with his.

Elizabeth pulls away slowly, smiling bright.

He sighs happily. “Let us be married.”

She laughs softly. “What is your hurry? We have our whole lives.”

“And the next,” he says, leaning down to kiss her once more. “And the next.”



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The End.

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