The Year 3000

Chapter 4: Ashton and Jealousy

Scarlett's POV

Previously:

I landed hard, but thankfully on my feet, the impact sending tingles through my legs. I snatched up my heels and quickly repeated the process twice before hitting grass. Looking around to make sure no one saw me, I hastily slipped on my heels and reentered the Palace, this time using the servants entrance.

No, I was not going to escape.

I was going to find Ashton.

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All around me, servants bustled to and fro, only a few sparing me a curious glance. Most kept their heads down, focused on nothing but the task at hand. After witnessing how Harry treated that poor serving girl, I wasn't surprised. I wandered around the halls, trying to figure out the best way to approach this. My chin was lifted high as I tried my best to mimick how Harry walked, all power and arrogance. I needed to look like I belonged. After a few minutes, I grabbed one of the servants' arm, forcing myself to look bored.

"Take me to the dungeons," I commanded, steel and pompous. I silently patted myself on the back for such a tone, one I had heard Harry use several times when addressing servants.

The servant's brow furrowed deeply, but one look at my attire had him nodding. "Of course, Miss. This way, if you please."

I didn't thank him. No vampire ever would. I simply followed his curly blond head as he weaved us through several hallways, my heels clicking promptly on the marble floors. We passed several guards, and each time I tensed, expecting any one of them to recognize me and call Harry. But none of them did. They barely even glanced in my direction--if they did, it was only to admire my figure, not scrutinize my face.

I knew my capture was completely inevitable, but I had to see Ashton before that happened. I needed him, especially after my punishment. I was teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown. If I didn't do something soon, I would lose it. Ashton always had a way of keeping me grounded, and I needed that. Plus, I needed to make sure with my own eyes that he was okay.

After several minutes, the servant led me outside to a quiet part of the Palace grounds.

All was deserted save two guards in blood-red uniforms standing stiff next to what appeared to be a huge cellar door made of steel. The servant next to me stopped, apprehension clouding his child-like features.

"It-It's just over there, Miss," the blonde boy said quietly, his eyes darting around. I gave a curt nod.

"Leave me." I dismissed him with a flick of my wrist, just as I had seen Harry do. The poor boy all but sprinted away, his curls bouncing wildly before he disappeared back into the safety of the Palace. I steeled myself and turned back to the two guards who, by then, had most certainly noticed my presence. Lifting my dress with a dainty hand, I waltzed purposefully over to the guards. My heels clomped distinctly along the stone pathway in time to my pounding heart.

The guards eyed me up and down in distaste. "State your name and what business you have."

I slowly rolled my eyes up to the guard who spoke, tilting my head to the side in what I hoped looked like offence at such a question.

"My name is Mekinna Vandwolf, and I have been ordered by King Harry to speak with one of your prisoners: a Rebellion leader named Ashton Irwin." My voice never wavered, and I was left wondering when I had learned to lie so effortlessly. I blinked slowly, fighting back my panic as they glanced at each other, probably debating on whether or not they should confirm with King Harry himself. What if they didn't let me in? What if they called for King Harry?