Chapter 23.

Charlotte failed at her attempt to shake off the chill she had gotten from being in Oliver's presence as she left his office. She refused her new guard's hand, deciding to limp along on her own. She was afraid her thoughts were so loud someone would hear them. The guards walked five paces behind her. 

The chill in Oliver's voice, the lack of emotion in his words, and his dismissal of her were all too new for her. She tried to convince herself that Frederick's death had changed them all differently, 'look at me, threatening people in the palace,' she thought, but she sensed Oliver's cold heart had not been changed by Frederick's death but by a certain night, a year ago.

Maybe she had been too harsh? No. she shook her head. He had forced her to realize something she had been trying to avoid, knowing her stand on the issue. It was he who had been harsh. Now, he was punishing her by being cold, or maybe he had changed. She wouldn't know, she had not spoken to him in a long while.

But then again, hadn't he rushed into her room, sword in hand when he heard the commotion in her room? The worry on his face had been so genuine… or did it take almost dying to get him to show emotion towards her?

If they were to be married, she wondered, what kind of marriage would they have if they were not even friends.

'A successful marriage has its foundation in friendship.' her father had once told her, during her heartbreak after turning Oliver away. She had debated meeting him again and accepting his offer to explore her feelings for him, but her dreams were further away from being a prince's lover.

In the end, she had chosen to ignore her feelings and pursue knighthood, hoping to explore more than the castle one day, and he had chosen to ignore her and erase her from his life completely. Now here they one, beginning again. She wondered if they would ever grow to be what they had been before.

After all she had done, all her hard work, sacrificing Oliver's friendship, fate had laughed at her attempts at deciding her future, and now, all she would ever see was the inside of the castle.

'I have to be on that convoy in two days. It's my last chance of ever leaving the palace.' she thought.

After the marriage, she would be too busy training to be a proper queen to have a chance to escape. And now, since she was still a nobody, her movements were not of concern to many people.

She limped along the long corridors of the palace with her head down, unaware of her surroundings, deep in thought. How would she sneak into the convoy? What would happen if she was discovered attempting to escape? What would happen if she was not?

She was not sure if she intended to escape or leave.

If she escaped, where would she go? But if she joined the convoy, would the others accept her or would she be sent back immediately after she was discovered?

She realized that many on the convoy would not know her as they had arrived in the palace only recently with their respective lords. This would be in her favor. She could be in the convoy be anyone she wanted as long she avoided the people who would recognize her.

But still, how would she get out of the palace and the castle?

Her thoughts on nothing but her worries, she bumped into a hard, metallic chest at the palace doors, and looked up to find Edward looking down at her, his lips already curved into a smile, promising mischief and fun. Her face lit up at his smile, her spirits lifting and all her worries turning into little butterflies and flying away. She smiled back at him automatically.

"Do you intend to break my face?" she asked.

"Do you intend to break my heart? I haven't seen you in years! Where are you needed in such a hurry you will not look at this handsome face?" he asked, his face offended.

Charlotte smiled, her chest feeling light. Her smile came as easy as she breathed.

"You tease too much," she said, "I'm walking to the garden for some fresh air, would you care to join me?" she offered him her hand, unsure when she had decided to walk to the garden. 

She noticed hesitation in his face.

"Oh, my dear knight, would you dare leave a Lady in distress without helping? My leg hurts, I need a gentleman at my arm," she said dramatically.

His smile spread wider, the uncertainty disappearing from his face as he rolled his eyes and took her arm, turning to walk with her through the palace doors.

The palace guards at the doors watched them closely, not even trying to be subtle about it. Charlotte glared at them.

"If you wanted to hold my arm, all you had to do was ask," he whispered suggestively in her ear, as they left the palace, noticing her sudden discomfort.

"Stop," she smacked his arm playfully, looking back at her guards, feeling caught, even though she had done nothing.

"Me? Stop? You are the one taking me out on a picnic date in the gardens, you say I tease too much, but maybe you are projecting." he answered her, in a whisper, his breath tickling the hairs at the back of her neck, and sending a shiver down her spine.

She hid the shiver with a laugh. 

"It's just a walk, people take walks all the time," she replied, hoping she had hidden the shiver well.

"To the place we first met? I am having a hard time believing that is a coincidence, my dear." 

"Technically, we first met in the war room. That is not where we are going, otherwise, I would have agreed with your conclusion," she said, feeling daring, as if nothing really mattered anymore.

"Are you saying that if we were to be courting, you would take me to the war room?" he looked surprised. "I didn't know you to be sentimental."

"You don't know me at all," she pointed out. "And I did not say anything, Sir Edward, you may be hard of hearing. Perhaps you are getting old." he laughed, the soft sound ending in a sigh.

They reached the garden and their place slowed, walking at a more leisurely pace, she no longer needed his arm for support, yet she did not pull her hand away, and neither did he. She signaled for her two guards to wait at the entrance and they walked in.

They walked in silence for a while, hand in hand, and Charlotte ran her hand along the shaped bushes lining the pathways. The garden was a maze she had often gotten lost in as a child and though she had finally mastered the pathways, she was not sure her memory was reliable enough to ensure she did not get lost.

"I would like to," Edward cut the silence, as they walked past the bench they had sat on the last time they were here, the bench reminding them both of a time just the day before, that seemed like a week to Charlotte. His voice, though carrying no serious emotion, lacked its playful nature.

Charlotte sent him an inquisitive look, unsure what he was talking about.

"Know you," he answered. "You said, I didn't, I would like to." 

"Well if you survive the battle in the north, I will be right here, covered in mold," she said, meaning it to be a joke, though there was no humor in her voice.

They settled into a bench on the side and sighed collectively.

"Why don't you come with us? You are still a fighter, right?" he asked.

"My husband-to-be said no." 

"Why?" 

"I don't know, I couldn't read him. Probably a man thing, you tell me."

"What?" he looked offended on her behalf. "If he didn't want you on the convoy because of his pride, well, I hope no one hears me say this but he's…" he paused and looked around, then lowered his voice to a whisper, "a coward."

The conspirator's look on his face brought a smile to her face.

"Well, I wouldn't blame him, I am better than him… I mean, I was, before he started training on his own."

Charlotte did not get the surprised look she expected. 

"I guess it runs in your family," he said, "do you think you could beat me in a fight?" he asked, his voice genuinely curious.

"Not hand to hand, maybe fencing, but I wouldn't want to scar your beautiful face."

"You think I have an attractive face?" he moved closer to her, a smirk on his face.

"You know you do." she retorted, smiling despite herself. What had she done?

"I think you do too," he said, not moving away.

He was now so close to her she could feel his body heat. He placed an arm on the armrest behind her casually and leaned towards her, rubbing circles with his index finger on her shoulder. Charlotte found herself breathing intentionally, trying to hide her panicking heart.

"You flirt too much," she said, hating that her voice came out breathy, giving away her tightening throat.

"And I think you don't mind it as much as you say."

She turned her neck to face him, leaving only inches between their faces.

"I am betrothed to the crown prince." She meant to say it as a threat, but it came out as more of a question.

"Did he ask for your hand yet?" Edward asked, unmoving.

"No."

"Then no, you are not betrothed to him." 

"Oh." her voice said, her heart pumping blood frantically.

He tilted his head, glancing at her lips, his intention clear.

"Do you mind?"