Dynasty | h.s

Twelve

I have always found comfort in the ocean. Just the smell of the salt in the air is enough to bring a flood of memories that all remind me of the beaches back home. Memories of red hot skin soaking in the sun's rays and hurriedly licking ice cream before it melts fill my mind. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore brought a feeling of serenity. The constant rush of water is always able to lull me to sleep.

The ocean that Harry has brought me to isn't quite the same, however. Instead of being sat in a folding chair with my feet buried in the warm sand, I'm walking along an edge of a cliff and where there should be sand are jagged rocks.

The sound of the waves crashing against the rock beside us offers some familiarity, but even that sound is harsher than the beaches back at home. The foggy air creates an ominous feeling, making me feel like I'm on some forbidden island. It's a bit eerie.

What I would give to be on a beach back in Massachusetts, or any beach on the East Coast for that matter. I would much rather sunny days with the sound of seagulls yelling at each other than whatever this is.

"Is this a popular place to come walking?" I ask Harry, breaking the silence that has settled between us. I'm unable to see anyone else as far as I can see on the horizon, but there are cars in the parking lot so I know we aren't alone.

"It can be," he states, "usually when it's warmer out."

I'm sure the time and the day play a factor, too. If I had to guess the people we'll run into today then I'd say they are older couples taking a brisk morning walk, or even early morning joggers with their dogs.

"Are you able to go out like this often?" I then ask. "Like without any form of security?" As the Prince of England I had just assumed he would always have protection to keep anything bad from happening to him while in public.

"Depends," he replies.

"On?" I urge him. He's giving me short answers, sending me the impression that he doesn't want to talk.

"Is this a game of twenty questions or something?" He retorts, head turning to look in my direction for the first since getting out of the car.

"No, but we could play that," I suggest with a lingering grin.

"I'll pass."

"Well you're no fun," I say disappointedly, my bottom lip protruding to form a pout. "You still haven't answered the question."

"I know," he says and I can hear the smirk in his voice. He's a cocky bastard.

I huff, growing frustrated with him. "Are you just not going to answer my questions?"

"I like to keep some mystery to me, chéri," he states with a shrug.

As if he already isn't a mystery to me. I'm asking him if he's able to go out in public alone, not about the skeletons that hang in his closet. I know we all have things we don't like to share, especially with people we hardly know. But I'm not asking for too much.

"So wait," I say, my head tilting to the side as my eyes narrow in confusion. "You're able to question me about things concerning my... sexual experiences, but I can't ask you simple questions?"

"Mhm," he hums nonchalantly, "and if I do recall, you weren't answering many of those questions. Your silence was."

Touché.

"Are we just going to walk in silence then?" I ask him. I'm not opposed to it. I would rather silence over this painful meaningless talk.

"You're still asking questions," he states, looking in my direction again. "Does the idea of silence scare you? Can't be alone with your own thoughts?" It's his turn to ask questions now, his eyebrow raised.