After the tea party, Bridget requested a private conversation with Genevie. "So, how did you find your first gathering, your Highness?" Bridget asked, her eyes sharp with curiosity.
"It was fine," Genevie replied, her tone measured. She could sense Bridget had something more to discuss. "Do you like the tea?" Bridget pressed on; her demeanor polite but insistent.
"Hannah, Benjamin, please wait outside," Genevie instructed. Bridget's smile widened; her eyes gleaming with hidden intent.
"Certainly, your Highness."
Once the room was cleared of everyone but the two women, Bridget's demeanor shifted. She regarded Genevie with a mix of curiosity and calculation. "I must admit, you've surprised me. I expected you to be an easy target, but you're more intriguing than I anticipated."
Genevie's gaze sharpened. "I'm not here to play games. What do you want to say?"
Bridget's eyes flickered with amusement. "I like you, Princess. I genuinely do. Let's form a partnership." She extended her hand, her smile inviting but her eyes cold and calculating.
Genevie's eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms defiantly. "I'm not convinced. What makes you think I'd agree to this partnership?"
"Ah, you're cautious. I appreciate that," Bridget said, beginning to pace around Genevie. "But let me be clear. Your marriage to the crown prince is nothing more than a charade. There's no love between you."
Genevie's expression remained composed, though her mind raced. "Are you certain of that?"
Bridget smirked. "Of course. I am Bridget Caitylon. My reputation precedes me, and I have spies throughout the kingdom. I know what goes on behind closed doors."
Genevie's eyes flashed with realization. "So, you've come to offer your help in reclaiming Narva?"
"Yes," Bridget said, her tone firm. "But there are conditions. I need to know your resolve."
"Why are you so certain about your information?" Genevie challenged. "You haven't heard it from my own mouth."
"I've already pledged my loyalty to you," Bridget said with conviction. "I want to work with you. But you need to be clear about what you want."
Genevie's mind raced. "And what makes you think I'd trust you?"
Bridget's eyes were cold and calculating. "Trust is earned, Princess. And I'm willing to prove my worth. But first, you must understand that I have my own stakes in this game."
Genevie studied Bridget closely. "You're bold. I'll give you that. But be wary. I don't easily trust those who come to me with their own agendas."
Bridget's smile remained, but her eyes were steely. "We're both playing for high stakes. I suggest you consider my offer carefully."
Genevie nodded; her expression unreadable. "I'll think about it."
___________________________________________________________________________________
Genevie entered their bedroom and saw Alexander lounging in a chair, his expression relaxed. "You seem... unusually content," he remarked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.
Genevie's eyes narrowed as she removed her jewelry at the vanity. "Why should you care?" she retorted, feeling his gaze weigh heavily upon her. She could sense his eyes boring into her back, an uncomfortable heat that made her movements brisker.
"What is it you want?" she asked, meeting his reflection in the mirror. Her gaze fell on the two bottles of wine on the table. The sight made her heart sink.
Alexander, noticing her focus, rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "The king and queen have started to suspect something's amiss," he said, sounding more resigned than concerned.
With a weary sigh, Genevie seized one of the bottles and took a long swig. The sharp burn of the alcohol spread through her, dulling her senses. She handed the second bottle to Alexander. "Drink," she commanded. "They expect us to be like this."
Alexander hesitated, then tilted the bottle to his lips and drank deeply. Genevie finished her own bottle and swayed slightly, the room spinning around her. Despite the alcohol's haze, her mind remained sharp.
The two of them sat in silence for a moment, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Genevie's vision blurred at the edges, and she felt the alcohol's effects deepening. Alexander's face was a hazy blur, his movements slow and deliberate.
After a few moments, Genevie rose unsteadily from her seat, feeling the room tilt as she walked. She made her way towards Alexander, who was still finishing his drink. Her steps were uneven, her balance unsteady. She approached him, her movements sluggish but purposeful.
"Wait up," Alexander said, his voice slurring slightly. "They asked for it."
________________________________________________________________________________________
Genevie awoke in the dead of night, her body tangled with Alexander's. A slight shiver ran through her as she felt the uncomfortable proximity, the warmth of his body against hers causing a wave of disgust. She carefully disentangled herself, feeling a sudden chill as she shivered. Tears welled up in her eyes as she hugged herself tightly. With trembling hands, she grabbed her robe and stumbled outside, seeking the cool night air to clear her mind.
Outside, she spotted Benjamin in a quiet conversation with Avaloone. Genevie strained to hear their exchange, but their words were lost in the night's stillness.
"You don't remember me, do you?" Avaloone asked softly.
"Of course I remember you, your Highness," Benjamin replied, bowing deeply. "I regret not having had the chance to thank you properly for your kindness."
"That's not what I meant," Avaloone murmured, her voice tinged with sadness. "When we're alone, just call me Avaloone." Her words were barely audible, lost in the night's stillness.
Benjamin looked puzzled. "Do you think we've met before?" he inquired, trying to recall any previous encounters. He searched his memory but found no trace of recognition. "I'm sorry, your Highness, but I don't believe we have met."
Avaloone's expression grew forlorn as she nodded slightly, then turned and walked away, leaving Benjamin to watch her retreat with a furrowed brow.
Benjamin returned to his quarters; his thoughts troubled. Lately, he had noticed Genevie's unsettling gaze, as if his presence triggered some deep-seated memory or emotion.
Genevie, having observed the brief exchange from afar, was troubled but chose to focus on the present. She returned to her room only to find the bed empty. Alexander was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, the door creaked open behind her. She turned to see a towering figure—Alexander, his face shadowed with an unsettling mix of determination and inebriation.
"Where have you been? I was looking for you," he demanded, closing the distance between them.
Genevie took a step back. "I was just taking a walk," she replied, her voice wavering.
"You're still drunk," she said, noticing the faint odor of wine on him. She grabbed a glass of clear water from the table and extended it towards him.
Alexander's movements were slow and unsteady as he reached for the glass. He took a sip, then set it down with a sigh. His eyes fixed on Genevie, and he took another step forward, his face close to hers. "You've been unfair," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Genevie's heart raced as he leaned in, his breath hot against her skin. She braced herself for a kiss she didn't want. But just before their lips could meet, Alexander stopped, his head resting heavily on her shoulder. He let out a deep, troubled sigh.
"Why would you do this?" he whispered, his voice laden with confusion and hurt.
Genevie, feeling a mix of pity and bewilderment, watched as he pulled away and left the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall. She stood alone, the weight of the night pressing heavily upon her.