Regal [h.s au]

24. Game on

AMELIA

"Seventy-five," I say monotonously, my eyes half closed as I slap a sheet of paper on top of one of the piles lined in front of me. 

"Twelve," Prince Harry says, mimicking my gesture while I shoot him a look. "My brain capacity does not run the way yours do, it needs more time to process information, more sleep and less dull political nonsense written front and back." He groans.

"I know, I've been dealing with your political nonsense for almost a year now, your Highness." I roll my eyes playfully. 

"And it has been a wonderful year." He smiles. 

"If you want me to finish going through those two stacks on your desk, you'll have to do better than that." I lean back in my seat, a challenging grin on my face. 

His smile falls when he realises I'm onto his attempt of getting rid of his work through flattery, a pout forming on his face. "You are too perceptive for your own good, Mel."

"Or you are just too predictable," I point out. "Option number one is that you use your charm and whine to me until I accept to save you from distress. Option number two is you flash your dimples and offer me something I rarely refuse like my favourite treat or a day just to myself while maids pamper me."  

"Or the option number three and my personal favourite I haven't seen in a while is your flower trick where you pull out a flower and delicately hold it in your hand before walking towards me and hope I'll call you my flower prince. Then you gift it to me and use subtle touches that will possibly make me shiver while I work, like a brush of your fingers against my nape or your arm around my shoulders, even kissing my cheek."

"Well aren't you clever," he flatly says, subtly dropping the flower he has secretly pulled out of his desk drawer I know he keeps them in, pushing it away behind him with his foot, my palm covering my mouth. He has a servant bring a flower to him every day in case he will be forced to use the trick.

"Not just clever, political nonsense clever." My grin widens as I rest my head in my hand.

Even though he attempts to stop it, he smiles. "Can't argue with that, Miss Evans." 

"Oh, we're back to Miss Evans?"

"Now that I think about it, we should be. I'm 'your Highness' and 'Prince Harry', right?" There's a tinge of bitterness in his voice, just like every time this issue comes up.

I clear my throat, pulling my chair closer to the desk as I shift my gaze at the papers scattered over its surface. "I have to finish the schedule for tomorrow."

He stands up, his footsteps firmly thudding against the floor as he approaches me, my body tensing. "I need to ask you something since you are my adviser. How... how do you know you love someone?" 

I can't hide my surprise with his question as I lift my gaze, a small smile making its way to my lips. "I use a little trick." I stand up from my seat and circle the desk, stopping in front of him. "All right, I want you to close your eyes."

He gives me a questioning look, raising his eyebrow, making me purse my lips. "Just trust me, close your eyes." He does as I said. "Good, now picture the person in your mind and then picture them in danger. What is your reaction? Naturally, you're scared, but how scared are you? Would you risk your life for that person, would you take their place if you could?"

He visibly shudders, opening his eyes and gulping. "Yes. Well, I think so."

"Well there you have it then. It seems hard to answer it, but your heart already knows the answer. Or something like that, I read it in a book once." I grin, turning around to return to my seat.