Crossed Hearts | h.s

Twenty Two

Geneva stalked down the hallway, heading for the dining room. The guards at the door scrambled to open it for the fast-moving princess, and when they did, Anna and Caris looked up at Geneva with widened eyes, their faces displaying looks of shock.

"Well?" Anna asked, wondering why her daughter had stormed off in the middle of their meal.

"Zabrina had written another letter to Father to inform him of Zander's death, but I intercepted it," she said, leaving out the part about Sir Jon. "He doesn't need to be worried."

Anna leaned back in her chair, setting down her utensils on each side of the porcelain plate she was eating from, and pressed her lips together in thought. Finally, after a few moments of silence and staring at Geneva blankly, she sat up straight again. "Well, I suppose you are free."

Geneva could scarcely believe it. She blinked dumbly. "Free?" she repeated.

"Free," Anna said plainly before taking another bite of food.

Caris, who hadn't stopped sniffling all day, managed a small smile. "Who will you choose?"

"I cannot think of such a thing now," Geneva said, shaking the thought from her head, although deep down her heart was leaping at the thought of being with Harry publicly. "Father is still ill."

"And you are still the heir to the throne," Anna reminded her daughter. "You will still need to make the decision—if you even want to marry at all."

"I have the choice?" Geneva asked with her brows raised. "I would have thought that you would force me into another marriage."

"Audrix is ruled out, we will have to ask Nydale to help us reverse the effects of the drought, and that alliance cannot be made through marriage. So, yes, it is up to you whether or not you want to rule with a husband at your side."

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Time passed by slowly, and soon enough, word had spread throughout the entire kingdom of King Luther's sudden illness. The palace was flooded with the wealthy lords and ladies of Velora bringing their well-wishes for the king to the royal family, and the priests and monks and nuns singing their prayers during Mass, which was being held every morning rather than only on Sundays as it used to be.

Three days had passed since the princess had travelled to Kanova and returned to find her father near death. She spent her time praying for the restoration of his health, as well as the prosperity of Velora, but she was growing weaker in spirit. Her father wasn't improving, and her mother had decided that it was time for her to prepare for the crown.

As the gong rang at noon, Geneva crossed herself and stood from her kneeling position in front of the altar. With her hands clasped at her stomach, she seemingly floated out of the chapel and down the corridor, not stopping to walk alongside Harry as she once would have. He trailed behind at her heels, his head held high as he tried to bear some of the fears that were so obviously weighing her down. And through the silence between them, through the pain in his heart at the thought of her losing the childlike happiness that used to be rooted within her, he smiled for her. If he couldn't be her husband at that moment, and not even a friend in her time of chosen solitude and quiet, he would be her constant reminder of what used to be, and what could be in the future: contentment.

❁ ❁ ❁

On the fifth day, King Luther was no better, and everyone was beginning to notice Geneva's despair as the realization sank into her mind that her coronation would surely come sooner than she had anticipated. And Queen Anna was especially concerned, for not even Lady Emilia could cheer her up.