Whispers of Willow

Chapter 13

Willow squinted her eyes and held her breath. She couldn't comprehend what had happened. She was all riled up, talking about wanting to leave, and then she found herself pressed up against the wall, with Wes pressing his lips against her cheek, merely missing her lips by a centimeter.

She heard the door close, not realizing there was a stranger in their vicinity.

Willow pushed him away from her. He didn't protest. In fact, he willingly obliged.

She walked slowly over to the bed, reaching for the vase on the side table, then letting go of the vase and picking up the pillow. She returned to where Wes stood and forcefully swung the pillow at his head.

His face moved in the direction of the hit, but he remained standing and did not try to avoid the attack.

"I deserved that," he muttered under his breath.

"The duplicitous nerve of the self-proclaimed elitist!" she yelled. "Never do that again! You might be a prince, but you have no right to touch me."

"You are right, I do apologize," he turned his face to glare at her. "I did, however, ask you to be discreet. And you are far from that. So I'm not sure if I'm entirely to blame. Now, if you desire even the slightest prospect of leaving this place soon, then follow me without letting the entire kingdom know."

He turned to leave the room, and she followed him, discreetly.

***

Willow was brought to Wes' sanctuary. He figured she'd already invaded his space, so why not go all the way? After all, this was the only place in the kingdom where no one dared to intrude.

The room had nothing in common with the palace. There were no chandeliers, gold decorations, or expensive sculptors, merely ordinary scenic paintings that complimented the ambiance of the space. The room had several green accents, such as the faded lime green bedspread, and wooden furniture.

The space stood in stark contrast to the opulence of the palace, prompting Willow to wonder, "What is this place?"

"It's... my home," Wes replied, not knowing how else to put it.

"Don't you live in the palace? I assumed that was your room."

"I do, and it was," he admitted, sighing. "You ask a lot of questions."

She took another look around the room. It had a calming and peaceful atmosphere to it.

"All right, I'll stop."

The prince stood near the door, dumbfounded by the strangeness of a foreign presence in his personal space. It felt like an invasion, but there was nowhere else he could think of where she wouldn't be discovered.

Willow took a look at something that piqued her interest. It was a painting of a single green apple that seemed to complement the room's aesthetic. It was a simple painting, but something about the apple's green made it look appetizing, and perhaps irresistible.

She turned to look at Wes.

"Are you sure no one else is going to walk in here?" she asked. "I don't want a repeat of what happened earlier."

"Neither do I," he acknowledged, leaning against the doorframe. "Don't worry. No one is permitted. Not even the king."

"Who does the cleaning?" She asked, looking at the dozens of books on the bookshelf before returning her gaze to him.

When he didn't respond, her eyes widened slightly.

"No way. Isn't it un-princely-like? I'm sure you have dozens at your disposal."