It had been very late in the evening, or perhaps very early morning, by the time Emilia and Theo departed for Kingfield House.

Everything was prepared for Will's visit with the king in the morning. His mother would be stuffed in a carriage and sent back to Scotland to escape any possible repercussions from the crown. Will would provide several of his loyal and well-trained servants to keep an eye on her.

Not only that, but he made sure she knew what he would do if she arrived back in London. Or if she tried to interfere with his and Emilia's relationship in any way. Emilia struggled not to react as Will had explicitly explained to his mother how he would run her name through the mud in the gossip columns—or, at least one particular gossip column—if she should bother them again.

On the other hand, Trevor was finally allowed to leave Will's townhouse, but not without a few more threats of breaking bones. Emilia felt confident they wouldn't be seeing Lord Trevor for a long time. Though clearly relieved, he still appeared wary of Theo and Will as he had slunk through the front door and into the chilly night air.

Everyone else followed suit shortly after, and finally, it was Theo and Emilia's turn to step onto the streets of London to return home. There was an eery silence to the air in Mayfair, and Emilia couldn't help but shiver.

Theo placed an arm around her as they walked to their horses, who were now sleeping lazily in Will's stables. Will was still unsure of some servants' trustworthiness and had insisted on preparing Emilia's horse for her.

But Emilia declined; she knew how to saddle a horse likely better than him, and Will looked dead on his feet.

It only took a few moments for Theo and Emilia to ready their mounts. As they trotted to Kingfield House, the only sound that could be heard was the clipping of hoofs against cobblestones.

The near-silence was haunting.

Emilia's mind kept trying to fill the lack of sound with the words that had been said tonight.

She tried to shut out the insults and treason, instead focusing on the memories of Will. Of all the things he said. And he did. Emilia sighed, the thoughts filling her with nervous energy and exhaustion all at once.

She was terrified for him. And excited for them.

Emilia snuck a glance at Theo, who looked equally worn. Her poor brother had done nothing to deserve the drama he was pulled into. She made a promise to herself that she would make it up to him. Somehow.

He noticed her looking at him. "Are you alright, Emilia?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak as her emotions began to catch up with her.

"You've been through a lot," Theo added. "You do not always have to be strong, you know."

Emilia thought about that. "I do not feel strong, Theo. You're the one who defended me, who rescued me. You're the one who can control people with no more than a look."

Theo chuckled. "Strength isn't always about what you can do. Sometimes it is about what you do not do. And sometimes it is the person you are for others."

Emilia's brows furrowed, and she tapped her heels into her horse's sides to keep up with Major's clipped pace. "What do you mean by that?"

Theo exhaled deeply, his weariness evident. But nevertheless, he continued in his efforts to help her understand, to help her feel better.

"After everything you've been through and everything he's done, you were still there for Will tonight. He needed you, and you were strong for him,' Theo said casually, shrugging.

He flashed her a little smile and added, "I am still not sure if he deserves you, but I doubt I have a say anymore."

Emilia felt herself getting choked up and ducked her head. Finally, she swallowed hard and replied, "No, you do not."

When they finally returned home, Emilia didn't hesitate to discard her borrowed clothes and sink deeply into her bed. Though she would have liked to stay with Will tonight, there was a comfort in the familiarity of her bedchamber. She was consoled by the warmth of the blankets that still had the faint scent of Will from two nights ago.

Emilia breathed deeply, taking it in. She was thankful that she had grown tired enough to not dwell in her uncertainties about the next day and quickly fell into slumber.

****

Will only slept for a few hours. He continued to see flashes of Ernest's face in his dreams, as he had for years. The man had been haunting him for far too long, and Will refused to let the lecherous monarch get his way any longer.

Will did not only hate the man for what he had done to him and his family. No, his hate was an all-encompassing, deep-seated disgust for everything he stood for.

He belittled and disregarded most of the people of his nation. And he did not care much for his own family either. Will hadn't seen Ernest shed a single tear at his son's funeral, and the man was likely responsible for the death of his brother, too.

The carriage accident that had killed Addie's father, King William IV, seemed too coincidental to Will. It had undoubtedly benefited Ernest to suddenly fall into power like that. And Will had the tendency to think that anything to Ernest's benefit was far from accidental.

The point being, Will wanted nothing more than to tear down the King of England and destroy him. But for today, he would settle with tearing apart the connection Will had with him. It wouldn't ruin the king completely, but it would damage a part of him; the severed relationship with Parliament would undoubtedly afflict him.

Rolling out of bed, Will took his time dressing, wanting to make sure he looked the part he was about to play. For over a year now, Ernest genuinely thought Will was his political ally. Will wasn't sure how the king would react to realizing that it had all just been a game.

A most dangerous game—that ended today.

Ernest had begun it. And Will would end it.

Will descended his staircase and spotted Lloyd. Just the man he was hoping to see.

"Lloyd," Will said tersely.

The butler gave a quick bow as he saw Will approaching. He had a guilty expression and replied, "Good morning, my lord. Might I apologize—"

Will cut him off. "You are not at blame for my mother's infiltration. However, I need your help. I need to know who has been feeding her information about me, and I need them gone."

The butler gave a resolved, quick nod. "Consider it done, my lord."

"Thank you, Lloyd," Will said, knowing he could trust him to get it done.

Will hadn't realized it until she had left for Scotland, but Lloyd had never been a fan of his mother. He had loosened up considerably in her absence and had subsequently kept Will sane when he had been forced to turn all his friends and family away to protect them from Ernest's threats.

"Can you have a carriage readied for me?" Will asked.

"Yes, my lord," Lloyd replied and hurried away.

Less than half an hour later, Will pulled up in front of the gleaming, monumental facade of Buckingham Palace. Striding through the ornate doors, Will requested an audience with the king. It was something he had done many times, and he had never been denied. Ernest didn't often leave the palace with its many amenities and comforts.

Will was led to Ernest's private rooms, which were decorated in overly rich colors. Everything seemed to be dripping in gold, from his fabrics to his uncomfortable furniture.

Ernest sat at an extended table, devouring his morning meal. He glanced at Will as he entered the room but did not comment. Will sauntered toward the man, surveying the way his sharp eyes glared down his hooked nose. He wondered when the last time Ernest had smiled genuinely, without a malicious cause. "Trotten," he said finally, raising his brows. "What is it?"

"My mother visited me last evening."

Ernest froze, his bacon-holding fingers paused midair. But he seemed to quickly recover himself, continuing to eat by ripping the piece of pork in two with his teeth. Honestly, if Will hadn't known to be looking for the signs of lies, he likely would not have noticed the king's hesitation. "Grew tired of Edinburgh, did she?" Ernest replied. "Cannot say I blame her. Wretched place, that is."

Will shrugged, his characteristic nonchalance on full display. "I've been there. I would not call the place wretched."

The king grunted noncommittally.

"But in all actuality, she came back because you told her to. Months ago."

Ernest stopped chewing then. His thoughts were more than evident as they sprinted through his mind. Slowly, the king swallowed and picked up another piece of bacon. "Trotten, I've told you before," he said bitterly. "I've no cares for your mother as long as our arrangement continues as planned. The woman's mad. I do not have a thing to do with her visit to London."

Will nodded carefully before striding to the seat across from Ernest and sitting it. He folded his hands neatly in front of him on the table.

"About our arrangement..." Will said coolly.

"What of it, boy?" Ernest grunted.

Will waited until the man stopped shoveling food into this mouth and glanced upwards, their eyes meeting.

Then Will said, "It's over."