“It is her! The queen,” Alina whispered.
As per the command, the crowd cheered and the guards started to throw coins into the crowd. People were pushing each other and crawling on the ground trying to collect the money.
“This is madness!” Alina exclaimed. The crowd grew wilder by the moment. "Get me out of here. I’m going to be sick." Alina stood up, her eyes still on the mass of people below.
Without hesitation, I escorted her back through the door and ignored all the servants who looked on in surprise as we exited through the wrong passage. Alina hurried past the temporary station where preparations were underway to serve refreshments to all the aristocrats on the terrace.
When we entered the hallway, I took Alina’s hand and guided her through the multiple corridors. I had walked almost all of them, memorizing the quickest ways to get around, and out. We were passing through a dimly lit hall, when Alina suddenly pulled her hand away and stopped, staring at the floor.
I paused, searching her face.
“She must know all about this,” Alina whispered. “This is her city. These are her people. They’re not toys. They’re realpeople – with families, with hopes and dreams. No one deserves to be treated like that.”
She was right, and I had nothing to say to that. The fact that that was just how things were done, did not make it any more acceptable.
“I must see her. I have to tell her what her council is doing.” Alina continued.
“Do you think she doesn’t know?” I asked.
“If she knows and does nothing about it...” Alina bit her lip.
I took a step forward, invading her personal space. Alina’s eyes flickered back, and she raised her eyebrows in confusion.
“You are too good for this world. Do you know that?” I placed my hand on her neck and lightly brushed the silky smooth skin of her jaw with my thumb.
“Don’t make fun of me.” She breathed as I watched a lonely tear slide down her cheek.
“I’m not.” I pressed her closer against my body and her arms wrapped around my torso.
“It’s so horrible,” she whimpered.
“I know.”
“That woman, she had a baby . . .”
“I know.”
“There is no excuse for that. No matter what your circumstances are.”
I pressed my lips against her hair, inhaling her flowery scent. My mate. She was so much better than me, in everyway I could ever imagine. Smart, compassionate, loving, and she had something none of the palace fools had. She cared about others, not only the high born. It would be a blessing for everyone if she acquired the throne. I clenched my jaw.
No . . . No.
I could never let her go. She was mine.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ALINA
The girl with two braids watched my door from time to time, especially when my brooding guard was summoned to training, or had other duties sentries were obligated to fulfill. There was something about her that made me think that I knew her, and that we used to be friends. She called herself Samantha, but I was certain that it was not her real name. The girl did not seem to have any scruples about letting me know how she felt about her duties. She made so many snide remarks about the palace, and the people in it, that I was either in shock, or on the verge of bursting with laughter most of the time. She had two friends in the palace. One of them was a younger man of slender build, his ashy blond hair spiked up at the ends, as ifhe just woke up. The second one was a tall and broad, dark skinned male with a closely shaven head, and an unreadable expression on his face. They called him Roy, and he had never opened his mouth in my presence.
From what I could discern, Kent and the other three knew each other intimately, but for some reason they were hiding that fact.
I sighed and picked up a blooming sprig of lavender, rotating it between my fingers. Earlier that day, I had peeked my head out of my room, hoping to see my guard, but the girl was stationed by my door. I could not think of anything better to say than to ask her to take me outside. A fresh, minty scent filled the air around me, and I glanced back at the girl.
“Are you a friend of Mr. Kent?” I asked.
“Mr. Kent? Oh. Yeah.” The girl hesitated as if uncertain about sharing with someone like me. “We grew up together.”
