𝖗𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊, 𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐲 𝐯

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𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐌. Part of her is worried he'll laugh at her or call her ridiculous, but she knows that's just an irrational paranoia that comes when confessing deep secrets to people.

Henry stares at her, his lazy hazel eyes locked on her honey brown ones. "That's why you refused me?" he asks after an agonizing minute of silence, his soft tone causing Elizabeth to practically sigh in relief.

She nods and looks aside, not wanting to meet his eyes again. Henry reaches out and slides his hand over hers, pulling her gaze from the floor. She glances at his hand before making eye contact, her eyes wide as Henry leans in close, his head cocked as he smiles at her. "You have every reason to have a man prove his worthiness of you," he whispers. "Especially if you've been treated wrong as many times as you have."

Elizabeth smiles at him, unable to restrain her glee. Some of the more interesting men she's met have literally laughed in her face when she's explained why she's so "stuck up" to them. She has her reasons and every girl deserves a man who's willing to put in some effort to be by their side, even if it's only for one night.

"Thank you for understanding," she sighs, her hand flipping to grab his and hold it tight. "I was worried maybe you wouldn't."

Henry quirks a brow with a slight smirk. "An insult, my lady," he says with a lighthearted laugh. "A well deserved one at that."

Elizabeth smiles at Henry and sinks further into the mattress, her eyes locked on his now. She still can't get over how gorgeous he is. "Do I have something on my face?" he asks lazily, his eyes switching from fondness to suggestiveness.

Elizabeth shifts to lean closer to Henry, one hand lifting to rest against his still bare chest. They haven't moved since he lead her back to the bed to hear her story. She doesn't respond to his playful question, instead deciding she can't stand not knowing how his lips would feel against her and he tastes.

She leans in, her lips barely brushing against his when the door to his room is violently thrown open, a few people storming in as if being chased by an angry mob. Elizabeth yelps and jerks back, surprised by the sudden entrance. She gasps as she teeters on the edge of the bed, reaching out for Henry, who grabs her arm just before she tumbles over.

The momentum causes them both to fall into a heap on the floor with grunts. Henry's face lay in Elizabeth's chest for only a quick second. He jumps up, eyes blazing with anger as he helps Elizabeth to her feet.

"Who are you?" he snaps at the two men standing at the far end of the room, Perceval blushing so furiously his face matches his hair. Tristan holds a hard look in his eyes as he glares at Henry, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Henry's shoulders relax as he recognizes the two men.

Elizabeth takes a deep breath and steps around Henry, her hands smoothing her dress. "Que fais-tu ici? Je vous ai ordonné d'attendre à l'auberge." What are you doing here? I ordered you to wait at the Inn.

"Avec tout le respect que je vous dois, Mademoiselle, vous n'avez rien commandé parce que vous n'avez pas indiqué où vous alliez," Tristan snaps back, his eyes sliding to Elizabeth. With all due respect, miss, you did not order anything because you failed to mention where you were heading.

Elizabeth tenses. She may be lax when it comes to the formality of her relationship with her knights but she won't tolerate disrespect. "Je vous conseille de surveiller vos paroles, monsieur," she responds calmly, her shoulders squaring and her chin raising. I advise you to watch your words, sir.

She turns to Perceval, whose eyes are wide. "Madame," he says urgently, his French accent thick. "You have an important guest."

Elizabeth frowns, worrying Edwin has returned to finish his business with Elizabeth, but she knows he wouldn't be capable of causing Perceval such worry. Still, one can never be too careful. "Edwin?" Perceval shakes his head but doesn't get to respond before Tristan cuts in.

"Mes excuses, Votre Altesse, mais nous devons être en route. C'est une affaire personnelle." My apologies, Your Highness, but we have to be on our way. It is a personal matter. Tristan bows to Henry, making eye contact with Elizabeth as he stands. "Maintenant." Now. Tristan may be a rough individual, but Elizabeth has lived with him long enough to know when he's being overprotective and when he's been frazzled by something.

And he's most certainly frazzled.

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Henry watches as Liz leaves with the two men who barged in a few moments earlier. After a brief conversation in hushed French, Liz apologized to Henry and promised to return soon before departing with a soft kiss to his cheek.

He frowns at the door, more than disappointed with the events that just transpired. Liz confessed to him, revealing the first bit of true personal information to him. A man named Edwin, the first of many, abandoned her after coercing her into bed. It's why she was so cautious around Henry.

He sighs and falls onto the bed, worrying for her safety. The blonde man referred to one of the two as Your Highness and Henry has half a mind to think he wasn't referring to him. Something about Liz causes him to think she's more than she's letting on.

Being called Princess isn't an ordinary thing one's father does to train a young woman to marry a prince. He knows the story of the missing Princess of France: the young girl ran away after the Queen's death and hasn't been heard from since. She's the youngest of the King's children, the only one born to the second Queen of France.

No one knows where she went or what she's doing. Some think she's dead, despite the King assuring his people his daughter is safe. He has refused to reveal any other information. The irony of the situation is that Henry was once to be betrothed to that very Princess before the French King changed his mind.

He sighs, his eyes locked on the ceiling as he ponders. If she is indeed the Princess of France, she's far more valuable to him than a young love. He could be his Queen, should he ascend the throne and only if she's who he thinks she is.

No, he tells himself as his eyes flit shut. Don't be preposterous. She's not the rogue Princess.

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