Bound By The Crown

Chapter Twelve

I knew the meeting would be awkward, but I didn't know it would be this awkward.

The atmosphere in the room seems almost suffocating as we happen upon it, the two figures in the room incredibly tense even from a new onlookers' point of view. Bodies coiled yet facing away from each other in contempt as a woman with brown hair twisted into a bun sits upon a pale beige armchair with her hands clasped in her lap. Draped in a pastel blue form fitting dress and low peep toe pumps, her demeanour if not for the popular state of her dress gives me a clue as to who she is. Brown eyes dimmed and her face looking older than what I've usually glimpsed before in the tabloids. The man, on the other hand, stands tall with his back to the Queen but with a polite smile on his face as he glimpses us.

I can't help but to dart my eyes from Mr. Sinclair and over to the King, taking in the similarities that now hit me like a freight train. Their same pointed chin, the shape of their face and their build are uncannily similar. The colour of theirs, however, is light against dark since the King has a tuft of hair that's fading into a pale blond which was a startling almost yellow from his youth along with the same dark brown eyes as that of the Queen.

"Your Majesty's, let me please introduce you to Mr. Sinclair and Ms. Moore." Comes our introduction while my eyes flit around the room and onto the many eyes focused on us, a sharp look from Mr. Sinclair has me dropping into what I hope is a perfectly executed curtsy and with a bubbly smile on my face that the royals approve of unless I'm the one being executed instead. Mr Sinclair doesn't miss a beat himself and follows into a bow consisting of only tilting his head towards the floor in respect.

Why on Earth does my bow have to be so complicated when all he's doing is tilting his neck?

"Ah, Mr. Sinclair. I didn't expect you to be bringing a guest."

Well, I wasn't expecting those to be the first words out of the King's mouth but Mr. Sinclair doesn't seem to be too fussed with the technicalities as he addresses the King head on.

"Yes, your Majesty. I must apologise but it was rather sudden and became necessary for her to come with me." The lies he spews to the King have my eyes narrowing just the slightest which I morph into a blank expression when Queen Juliet turns her eyes onto me, a smile being sent my way and already I can sympathy coursing through me. I guess no amount of training on etiquettes and what not can hide the pain and exhaustion in one's eyes when they're so expressive to other people. The smile she sends me is tired and strained, although she tries her best for it to appear friendly.

I can't even begin to imagine the strain that's being put on her nor would I want to be in her place as the media looks on while you plaster a fake smile on your face as if your husband didn't cheat on you all throughout your years of marriage. That must be a slap in the face if there ever was one.

"Of course. I do understand." King Theodore speaks up, a friendly smile etched onto his lips, but I can't help and feel uncomfortable since something seems amiss. It could be the mere fact of Mr. Sinclair standing in front of his father for the first time maybe ever, and the stakes feel overwhelmingly high with me being an unwilling witness to the entirety of the unprecedented situation. It could also be the obvious tension brewing between members of the family, namely King Theodore and Queen Juliet, and by extension Mr. Thadeus Sinclair himself. I was presuming that such a meeting between father and sound would be emotionally charged either by a long heartfelt reunion or an explosion of mordacious words being flung at each other in order for them to really hit home. However, such a cold and withdrawn meeting seems almost surreal and as if they're merely outsiders to a situation that doesn't concern them in the slightest. "However, I hope you can understand when I say it would be best if it were just the three of us during such a meeting." I start taking discreet steps backwards, already listening to the King's subtle way of telling me to get lost. That too lives a very short life as Mr. Sinclair turns his head a fraction of an inch towards me, I can't even see his eyes but I already know they'd be glaring at me while he scowls my way to stay put, practically daring me to even think of disobeying his orders.