Spellbound [wlw]

16

Amari walked with the guard, her feet carrying her away from Ivy and into the unknown. The apprehension that had been growing inside her bloomed into a full-blown sense of foreboding as they passed through the palace gates, her father's memory heavy on her mind. He had possibly walked past these gates a hundred times.

She felt like an impostor in this place, surrounded by grandeur and a history that she did not fully understand. She tried to suppress the fear that her uncle, the crown prince, had learned of her true identity and was calling her here to finish her off.

As they approached the double doors, Amari took a deep breath, steeling herself against whatever awaited on the other side. The guard nodded curtly, the doors groaning open to reveal a garden of such splendor that Amari could hardly take it in.

At the center of the garden stood a gazebo, its intricate latticework adorned with vibrant vines and blossoms. Beyond it, a labyrinth of leaves and branches beckoned, whispering of hidden secrets and forgotten truths.

In the gazebo sat Richard, the crown prince.

Richard glanced up as Amari and the guard approached, his features inscrutable. The guard was nodded off as he gave a bow before exiting, leaving her to offer him a shallow curtsy, doing her best to mask the trepidation that stirred in her heart.

"Amari," he said, his voice rich and commanding. "Please, sit."

Amari sat on the far end of the gazebo bench, as far from the prince as she could manage without appearing rude. She could feel his eyes upon her, but she kept her gaze fixed on the fountain some distance away, the water playing a mournful melody.

In the shade of the gazebo, Richard sipped his tea, the cup held between two fingers as he regarded Amari. She squirmed uncomfortably under his scrutiny, keeping her eyes on the fountain's gentle cascade.

"Tea, Amari?" he asked, extending his hand with a cup.

"No, thank you, your Highness," she responded, bowing her head slightly.

Richard held the cup aloft, his expression unreadable. "I insist," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Amari took the cup, blowing softly across its surface. She lifted the cup to her lips, taking the tiniest of sips as Richard watched.

"I haven't poisoned it," he said wryly, as if sensing her hesitation.

"If I wanted to be rid of you, Amari, I could have done so long ago."

Amari met his gaze, a hint of defiance in her eyes. She hummed in acknowledgement, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Richard leaned back against the gazebo bench, a pensive look on his face.

The crown prince's mind drifted back in time, to a day long ago when he sat in this very spot with his cousin Anslem. He could almost feel the warmth of the sun on his skin, hear the laughter of the courtiers in the distance. And yet, something about Amari's quiet defiance reminded him so much of his late cousin.

He shook off the sense of déjà vu and turned his attention back to Amari, sipping his tea.

"So, how are you enjoying your studies at the academy?"

Amari straightened her posture, fighting back the urge to fidget under Richard's scrutiny.

"It has been an enlightening experience, your Highness. The professors are knowledgeable and the subjects are challenging, but I am grateful for the opportunity to learn."

"And have you made any friends during your time there?" Richard asked, his tone casual, but Amari sensed there was more to his question than met the ear.