Anastasia's POV.

I rummage through the bedroom, struggling to find anything that would give me some relief, but I can't find a single thing. I heavily sigh while looking at the over the counter medicine that never seems to be what I need.

"Harry," I call from the bathroom as I lean my elbows on the counter and bow my head, waiting for his heavy footsteps to make their way to the bathroom. The door creaks, and I lift my head.

"You okay?"

I nod my head and turn the cold water on full as he walks closer to me. I turn to face him, and I lean up to his ear, "My room is bugged. They're everywhere," I whisper before I draw away.

I touch my finger to my lips, and he nods his head before reaching for the medicine bottle that I found. "I don't feel too well. Do you have anything I can take?" I ask Harry, opening the lid thoroughly and showing him the tiny device glued to the bottom of the top.

Harry gestures for me to put it back where it originally was, "Let me check. Have you checked the top shelf?" Harry questions, leaning up and touching his hand to operate over the empty shelves at the top, presumably feeling for any other bugs.

"No, I can't reach."... "Anything?"

"No, come in the bedroom, and I'll see if there's anything for you to take," Harry instructs, turning the water off and walking out.

Harry begins to spread his hands over every region he possibly can in search of bugs, "Anna, you're staying with me for the day." Harry instructs as he stops in front of the fireplace, his hand gliding along the top of the ridges before he pulls his hand down and glances at me with a tiny black device between his fingers. He shakes his head disapprovingly, "Headache?" He questions, walking towards his side of the bed where he casually drops the black device into his hot tea.

"Yeah, it won't go away. On the contrary, it keeps getting worse," I respond, my attention turning to the door as it opens, and Matthew walks in. "Damn, jet lag," I mutter, disputing my issues.

Matthew smiles and waves before standing to the side with his hands in front of him, patiently waiting for Harry. "I know I'm late, Matthew," Harry comments, his back turned to Matthew as he rummages through his side drawer.

"I don't like tardy."

"Mhm," Harry hums, "Here, this will help," Harry hands me a small pill. Then Harry turns to Matthew, "She's coming with us."

Matthew stares at me for a moment before looking at Harry, "I don't remember her being on the list of things accompanying me today." Matthew seems pissy. "It isn't bring your wife to work day."

"Mhm, I forgot to tell you, the engine light on my car is flashing red, so I'm going to need you to check on it for me," Harry informs Matthew, causing me to raise a brow.

Matthew doesn't give a damn about Harry's car and personal things.

Matthew nods his head and looks at me, "Anastasia, are you ready to go?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes," Harry and Matthew say in unison, not giving me much of a chance to stay in bed and sleep.

I groan and force myself off the bed, "Don't seem too pleased, Anna."

I glare at Harry as I grab my phone from the side table and slip on a pair of my shoes, trailing the two of them out of my room.

The trek across the Palace is long-drawn and hushed, completely silent. There are various things I require to be doing; one of them is not following Harry and Matthew around while they talk amongst themselves about the bugs.

"Matthew, the room is full of bugs; someone inside the palace has been listening to our conversations."

"Could they have heard anything important?"

"Besides our private conversations, no. Nothing Royal related. She hasn't been here," Harry shakes his head.

"What could they have heard?"

"Our private conversations, things between a husband and wife," Harry responds, not too pleased to know the room has been bugged.

"Your room is full of them," Harry confirms, "We are set to move to the living quarters upstairs, but I'm worried they'll bug that too. So we are going to have to cut off the living quarters and have armed guards strictly. Nobody gets in besides your mother, Oliver, Matthew, your head lady's maid and myself, that's it." Harry informs me.

"I guess that is how the press found out about a royal being in the hospital," I remind Harry of the fact the media were alerted very quickly when he was hospitalised. "I told you there was a snitch in the palace, and you didn't believe me." I sarcastically continue.

"Anna, I didn't say I didn't believe you," Harry shakes his head, "I simply stated that it was unlikely,"

"Well, now look," I respond, and Harry sighs.

"I'll deal with it. We were moving to the living quarters upstairs today anyway. I have everything done besides your clothes."

"God knows how long it has been there."

"Baby, try not to think of that."

"Easier said than done," I respond, well aware of all the things they may have heard over the last few months. That's our room, our privacy, and it makes my skin crawl to think someone has been listening for quite some time. "I have some duties to do today. I have a hospital visit at one, a business unveiling at three and tea with Pippa at four to discuss opening parliament, so I can't follow you two all day," I inform Harry.

"The quarters will be double-checked by myself and Matthew, and then you can settle in and do as you please," Harry informs me, lacing his fingers with mine as we walk down the hallways, giving me no chance to object to the decisions made.

♠ ♠ ♠

The quarter's Harry and I have moved into are beautiful. It is spacious. Harry and I are no longer living on top of each other. We have more than just a bedroom and a bathroom. I am not sure why I didn't move sooner. The ceilings are high, and the room welcomes light from the generous windows spread across the wall that leads to the french doors that open to the balcony. The living quarters are warm despite the cold marble tiles beneath my feet. The place is furnished with some of my old furniture, most of it new and still fitting with the royal theme that each area in the Palace upholds. I wander further into our quarters and smirk as I reach our living room adorned with both of our tastes, a few of his items floating around. I grab the TV remote from its resting position on the table, "Damnit," I huff, fumbling over my hands, the damn thing hitting the floor and sliding under the grey couch. I get down on my knees and run my hand under the sofa, attempting to reach the remote.

I spread my hands over the flooring, inching closer before the tips of my fingers brush a tiny object. I draw my arm out from under the couch, my eyes gazing down at what has fallen under. I gaze at the small item, staring down at it. At first, I thought the small cufflink was Harry's, but as I gawk longer at the silver-plated card, I notice the cards fan out, revealing Aces. This lost cufflink is not Harry's. He has gold cufflinks. None of them resembles cards.

I swiftly flashback to a moment in the gardens:

The man holds his hand out, prompting me to shake his hand. I stare at the cufflinks on his button-down, intrigued by them. I would expect to see these sorts of cufflinks in Vegas or at a place where card games are a fortay, not at a palace and on an ordinary man. One cufflink features a Jack, King, and Queen and the other cufflink features three Aces in a foldable card deck. They're not the ordinary cufflinks, perhaps he is some sort of magician, or he just really likes cards. Who knows?

"Do I pique your interest, Princess?"

I shake my head, letting go of his hand, "I've never seen those kinds of cufflinks."

The man nods his head, his eyes flicking down to his cufflinks, "You never know when you'll need an Ace up your sleeve," the man smiles, seeming mysterious but pleasant in the same manner, "I'll let you be, Princess. Can you direct me back to my crew?"

I hold the cuff link between my fingers, staring at the tiny little cards. These are identical to what the man wore, I know for a fact. I swallow hard, the realisation that this unknown man was in our living quarters makes my stomach turn, and the blood in me runs cold.

I gasp the second I catch the door jerk, the doorknob jiggling. I seize the sword on the coffee table. Then, as the door opens, I turn around and wave the sword to whoever enters. My breath hitches in my throat, and my heart beats fast.

"Aren't you meant to tell me to surrender?" Harry instantly comments with his hands up, the sword in my hand and still pointed to him.

I take a breath as Harry drops his hands, walking closer to me, "I think it's time I put this thing back in its rightful place," Harry comments, and I hand Harry the sword, my heart racing as I swallow hard.

I clasp my hand to my chest and take a deep breath as Harry places the sword down. "A man has been in our quarters," I inform Harry.

"What do you mean?"

I hold the lonely cuff link in my hands and show them to Harry, "I saw these on a man who was walking the palace a while ago, I don't know who he is, but he has been in this room."

Harry glances down at the little cufflinks in his hand, "Nobody has access to our quarters."

"Harry, this man had these. He was in this room." ... "There is no other way these could magically appear under the couch."

"Okay, calm down," Harry nods, stepping away from me and exercising towards the other couch and leaning over the couch, his hand caressing to the wall while the other reaches for the canvas that convenes above the couch. He takes the canvas into his hands and moves his hand inside the canvas before drawing something from the material. Harry effortlessly places the canvas back on the wall and holds up a small black device between his fingers.

"Another bug?"

Harry shakes his head, "No, sweetheart, hold on," Harry shakes his head, "Where is my Macbook?" Harry questions, looking around the living room.

"You left it on the bed this morning," I remind him, and he nods, taking long strides to our bedroom. I pursue behind him, observing as he lays on his stomach on the bed and opens the lid of his MacBook, he turns it on, and I cock my head to the side. "Well, are you just going to stare? Come here," Harry instructs, gesturing for me to take the space beside him.

I crawl on the bed and sit beside him, cross-legged, while he moves slightly to get comfortable, his left hand caressing to the keypad to unlock the device. Harry clicks a few things and types in a few different passwords on different screens before his screen brightens and he starts to play a video. He watches the screen intently before pressing the spacebar and pausing the video, "Here he is," Harry gestures to the screen, but we can't make out his face, "He looks tallish. He seems to be looking for something," Harry comments, pressing play and watching the video, "I don't know what this moron is looking for," Harry continues to speak to himself before he opens another screen, "Any of these look familiar?" Harry questions, showing me a few various pictures of men.

I gaze at the photos as Harry scrolls through them, my hands tangling in his hair, "That guy, that is him, who is he?" I instantly challenge, pointing to the screen, and Harry moves from his laying position on his stomach and sits up.

"No clue who he is," Harry confesses, "What did he tell you?"

"He was on a tour of the palace, and he got lost, so I let him in the palace, and he joined the public."

"You let him in the palace?" Harry challenges.

"Yes, he—— Oh, I fucked up, didn't I?"

Harry nods his head, "Baby, you showed him how to get in. It was so easy."

"I uh, damnit, I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay," Harry assures me, continuing to flick through the photos. I immediately release my fingers from his hair and point to the screen, leaning closer.

"Stop, go back," I instruct, and Harry listens. Finally, I perceive the identical man I helped get into the Palace for the garden party on the screen. "Harry, that's the guy who brought in the flower pieces for the garden party."

"And?"

"And, I let him into the Palace, in the same manner, I did the man with the cufflinks, but look at the tan line on the left wrist," I point out, "They're the same person."

"They look vastly different, Anna. Everyone has tan lines. I have one from my watch," Harry informs me, "Wait," Harry sighs, "Fucking hell," Harry huffs.

"What?" I softly request, leaning on his shoulder, watching as he flicks through the photos.

"Chameleon," Harry mutters, going back and forth between the two photos of the men. "I am going to have Oliver stay on your service when I am gone, don't kick him off," Harry instructs, closing his MacBook and falling on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "I gather you're going to want an explanation?"

"That would be ideal," I nod, "Unless you prefer I walk around with a sword?"

"No," Harry shakes his head, "That is a scary sight," Harry laughs, "I could be wrong, but I think Henry's father is fooling us by changing his appearance to get into the Palace. I am not sure what he is looking for or his plans, but I assume it isn't to have tea with us."

"What do we do?"

"I can't keep locking down the palace," Harry sighs, "The more security I put in place, the more skilful this man seems to get. Try not to let anyone into the Palace," Harry instructs, "I think it is the same man I saw in the gardens at the garden party. He was touching the flowers."

I lay beside Harry, resting on my left side while he continues to glance up at the ceiling, "The one who said he lost the group of tours, he was heading to the forbidden lake, and he picked the lilies."

"Yeah, I think they're the same person, you're right," Harry agrees, cocking his head to the side to look at me, "Guess I need to find out what he wants."

"Money, if I had a guess, it is what he wanted from Dad."

Harry grows reserved for a moment before ultimately moving to rest on his side, "Anna," Harry begins with a soft voice, "I know your Dad was opposed to this, but what if I pay off The Aces, give them what they want? I have land in the countryside that is worth money, and I can pay them off."

"You're not spending your hard-earned money on paying off my father's debt."

"If it means keeping you safe, I may as well."

"Harry, how much do you have stashed away?"

"Stashed away or in my bank account?" Harry chuckles but turns his smirk into a fine line when he notices I am not joking. "In my bank account, I have three million, stashed away I have some property, as you know."

"How... How do you have that much?"

"Your father paid me well," Harry confesses, "He may not have always been the easiest to deal with, but he made sure his staff were paid well, at least the ones higher up. Your father doted on Matthew and me. He made us do some shit things but kept our pay very nice."

"Either Way, you are not using any of that to pay my father's debt. So come up with a different plan."

"Honey, I have no plans for Henry's father. I don't even know his name." ... "Not sure what to do."

"Mrs Doubtfire," I chuckle. "I need to get ready for tonight."

"Anna, baby, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I nod as I crawl off the bed, and Harry stays lying on his back.

"Who is the current heir to the throne?" Harry questions, his eyes following me as I manoeuvre around the bedroom with ease.

"Harry, it ends with me. But if anything shall happen, I leave it to you."

We have been through this countless times. No matter what happens, he ends up with the monarchy if anything happens to me. The whole point of me titling him King is so that the monarchy is secure. Harry may not like it, but he can do as he wishes with it once the monarchy is in his hands. He can destroy it, or he can keep it operating. It is wholly up to him.

"That's fucking great," Harry sighs, and I glance over my shoulder.

"Why? Thought you knew this?"

"No distant cousin or anything, right?"

I nod my head, "Right, it all is mine to handle."

"Can it go to your mother?"

"No, she lost all rights when I became Queen. You will reign if anything happens to me. You're second in charge."

"And if I die or if I don't want it?" Harry questions, making me wonder if he is trying to tell me he has no desire to have the damn thing. I don't blame him; the crown isn't straightforward to secure and run.

I think for a minute, "Well, if we both die, and there is no heir, Pippa would be the decider on what happens since she is prime minister."

"That's a scary thought. Can we not get rid of her?" Harry asks, "There are no letters patent saying we can't."

"Contract," I mutter, removing a dress from my wrack of dresses left for me to choose from. "Have you not read her contract?"

"Baby, I don't have time to sit and read Pippa's contract." ... "Contracts are void if she's missing."

"I cannot be an accomplice to murder," I shake my head, "Are you attending the event with me?"

Harry assembles up and spreads his fingers through his fluffy hair, his eyes glancing up at me while he extends me a weary smile, "I didn't plan to, I'm on security cameras from 11 at night until 11 in the morning, I need to get some sleep."

"For someone who monitors cameras, how'd we miss Mrs Doubtfire?"

"We have a great system, but there's always a flaw. He's a mastermind. I'm not dealing with a complete moron. He knows the system."

I nod my head and step away from the bed, "Please just end this. I want to feel safe again."

"I'm doing my best, Anna." ... "May I suggest you don't show anyone how to get into the Palace or give them vital information."

I roll my eyes and place my dress on the bed, "No promises. Perhaps you should step up security."

"My next step is to lock down the Palace entirely. Do you want that?"

"Good point," I chuckle, giving him a small smile.

While getting ready for the event, I am attending tonight; Harry sojourns on the bed, his eyes adhered to his laptop and a white file. I cock my head to the side, following him as I straighten my attire for the hundredth time, debating whether I want to keep it on or change styles. Harry appears to be lost in his work, his head spinning as he seems as though he is slipping down a rabbit hole of occultism.

"What's running through that mind of yours?" I distract him, observing as he lifts his eyes from his file, granting me a gentle smile.

"You look beautiful."

I blush and twirl around in my dress, showing it off in a whimsical manner, "Oh, please, I am married."

"Lucky fella he is."

"I know you ought to be in pain slumped in the bed like that," I point out, "What's the matter, darling?" I question, probing him, not wanting to give up on knowing what he is concerned about.

Harry rubs his eyes before letting out a heavy sigh, perhaps debating whether he wants to speak about the matters with me or not. "Anna, does it not bother you that there is no heir to the throne?"

I shake my head, "No?"

Here we go. He is still stuck on the throne.

Harry pulls the file closer to him as I step closer to the bed, sitting on the edge in front of him. "Baby, there should be a relative of some sort. Have you not noticed any pattern?"

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind," Harry shakes his head, placing the photo and documents back in the file and closing it.

"Tell me."

"Baby, what happened to your Dad's brother?" Harry softly challenges. "Your uncle."

"He died a few years ago."

Harry clears his throat, "And his kids?"

I think for a moment, trying to remember what exactly happened to my Dad's brother and his family. I was very young when it all happened, I had to have been around five when it happened. I don't remember much from the day my Uncle passed, but I remember as I grew older, my Mother had kept me updated on my cousins and Aunt that I never see. "His wife took the kids and moved away. I think they're in America, but they were stripped of their titles for a scandal."

Harry hums, "And your Dad's cousin, Prince Frederik?"

I pause for a moment before speaking, "He passed away. Not sure how."

Harry nods, "And what about your Aunt Marie-Antoinette?"

"She went insane and has been placed in the care of a doctor who works closely with the insane," ... "I write letters to her but she never writes back, Mum says it is because they don't allow her to have access to letter writing. They are very controlling over her." I answer Harry, unsure of where he is leading with the family tree of my absurd family.

The family tree is far from average. It is strange now that Harry reminds me of the family I know very little about. Marie-Antonette was a lovely woman. I remember she would assist with teaching me when I was younger. She was periodically reading to me and making things fun. If she had stayed around, she would have raised me and taken me under her wing while my parents ran the Monarchy. Marie-Antoinette was brilliant. She would have presented a magnificent Queen if given a chance. Sadly, she is ill-equipped and unwell to take the crown since my Father has passed, leaving it to me. I believe she would run this monarch better than myself. Her poise and intelligence is something I could never measure up to. It is a shame she went clinically insane, so they say. Considering the tone of harry's voice and the way he is asking all these questions. I am led to believe that he does not believe she is clinically insane and that there is something more to all of my family's misfortune.

"Anna, darling," Harry begins, "Do you see here that every person who could take the crown has either died, gone crazy or missing and never seen again?"

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, "Sort of."

Not everyone has good luck when it comes to life. The life of a royal is not a life that is usually long.

"The bloodline ends here with you, Anna. If anything happens to you, that's it, the monarch ends."

I shake my head, "It goes to you."

"But Anna, then once I die, that's it, the monarch is over. Don't you think it's strange that you're the only one left standing?"

"I don't quite understand what you're trying to get at."

Harry sighs and shakes his head in frustration. "I'm trying to explain that it seems like someone has been targeting your family one at a time, and it has gotten us to this point,"

"We already know I'm next." I point out the obvious. This is nothing new to me. I have been a target since I was born.

"Anna," Harry shakes his head, biting his tongue and taking a breath. "They've left you for a reason. They've set the path perfectly so you'd become Queen and nobody else."

"But, who would want to kill my entire family and then leave me to rule a monarch?"

"That.... That is something I can't figure out, darling."

I relax in front of him, thinking about what Harry has pointed out. He seems to have a valid point, but I am sure there is some logical explanation as to why I am the last one standing. Surely, someone hasn't devoted their life to banishing my family, discovering ways to kill them and force them to flee. Surely, this is not a vengeance that has been occurring since before I was born.

I lean forward and kiss his lips sweetly, "I don't want to think about this right now. Unfortunately, I have to attend this event. It would be nice if you could pop in for a minute, at least," I beam, doing my best to bat my eyes.

Harry rolls his eyes playfully at me, "I may stop in, but I am not wearing anything out of the ordinary. Simple clothing."

I nod my head, "I will take it," I respond, kissing him again before shifting off the bed and moving towards my black heels waiting for me. "Oh," I enunciate, glancing over my shoulder to stare back at him, "Don't forget I need you for the opening of Parliament."

"As a husband?"

I nod my head, "And King, but mainly husband."

"I will fit it into my schedule," Harry winks, "Go before you're late, you look beautiful. I will meet you there," Harry assures me, not getting off the bed as he shifts his laptop to the side and lays back down on the pillows. "In about an hour," Harry continues, causing me to laugh.

"Just get some sleep. I will wake you when I get back."

"I will meet you at the Art event, I promise," Harry presses, getting comfortable on the bed and closing his eyes.

♠ ♠ ♠ 

Tonight's celebration is about art and appreciating influential artists worldwide, both from the present and the past. Tonight we reveal artwork that has never been seen, venerating the arduous work behind each stroke and the underlining love between art and its history.

George II's involvement with the Society of Antiquaries was the first documented patronage, an organisation concerned with architectural and art history, conservation and heraldry. Tonight, I am here in recognition of the very first patronage that the monarchy took part in. It is an honour to possess the opportunity and privilege to be a part of a movement and proceed to make history.

Tonight, I will extract the material from beautiful art pieces, revealing them to the guests before being displayed in various London museums. The money raised from tonight will be dedicated to making sure schools are funded in the Art programs so that everyone has the opportunity to discover themselves in creativity. Too many times, art is disregarded and not given a second glance.

I wander around the event, taking in the array of flowers decorated everywhere and how classic art pieces are hung on walls. Not a single wall isn't holding something beautiful. Everywhere I turn, there is something breathtaking and extraordinary. It is incredible how one person can formulate pieces of art with a paintbrush and some paint.

I exit the area the main event is in, and I smile as I pass a man who glares at me while wearing an all-black suit. I ignore his scowl, and I stop walking, half glancing over my shoulder as Oliver steps to my side. I lean closer to him, "Take me to the security room. I know you know where it is," I command with a whisper, gazing around to make sure nobody is near us.

Oliver raises a brow before he nods his head and takes the lead, guiding me to my destination. After a few turns down various hallways, climbing a flight of stairs, Oliver's strides stop.

We stand outside two black, oversized doors, and I look at Oliver, "If I had my guesses, it's all locked. So how do we get in?" I question, taking note of the fact we require a key to unlock the double doors. Nobody would leave a room to the security chambers unlocked.

Oliver lifts his shoulders into a shrug, and I roll my eyes, "Has Harry not taught you anything?" I mutter, shaking my head disapprovingly. It serves me right for having Eaglette assist me instead of Harry. At least Harry would have a way to get in.

"He hasn't taught me how to break into a building I am not familiar with. This is not protocol."

"Fair," I shrug, "Give me your pistol." I adamantly direct, staring Oliver down.

"I cannot-"

"Eaglette, give me your pistol," I command, holding my hand out to him, my eyes narrowing on him. I wasn't asking, I was telling. Oliver seems to have my tone misconstrued.

"I am not sure Harry would approve."

"Harry isn't here. He'd be pissed to know that you're not prepared. You should know the floor plans of this event."

Oliver bites his lip before delivering me his pistol and drawing out his spare from his blazer pocket, "Thank you, was that so hard?"

"I hope you know what you're doing," Oliver sighs, not having much faith in me.

I am doing what needs to be done, something that Harry and others have failed to do themselves.

I shift on the door handles and push on the door, irritated that they are, indeed, locked. I huff and turn to Oliver, "Open the door," I instruct, gesturing towards the door that is the only thing between me and what I need to do.

"Her Majesty, I don't like the idea of this. I'm calling—"

"If you snitch on me to my husband, I will fire you." I warn him, not having any remorse for his feelings. This is my call, not his.

"But—"

"I don't care," I shake my head, "Don't make me kick this door in on my own."

Oliver gloomily huffs, giving me a bit of sass before muttering something inaudible under his breath. He shakes his head before stepping closer to the doors, "Stand back," he directs, waiting for me to step away before kicking the door in.

I'm surprised he dares to do it. He's the goody-two-shoes of the team. "Nice job," I nod my head, letting myself into the security chambers.

A man turns on his swivel chair to face me, "Get out of here!" He stands to his feet, furious that I have let myself in without warning, kicking his door in brutally.

"That's no way to speak to a lady," I shake my head, not intimidated by the man in the slightest, "My husband told me to meet him here. Do I have the wrong room?" I am deflecting, unsure of how armed this man is. Yet, part of me is also thrilled to have power and be a smartass.

"You clearly have the wrong room, ma'am. Does this look like a hotel room to you?" He responds with a sneer, his tone of voice not settling well with me. "You kicked the door in." He points out the obvious, gesturing towards the door.

"I do not like the tone of your voice," I shake my head as the man steps closer. I bring my hand with Oliver's pistol to the front of me, and I raise the barrel of the gun towards the man, "I'm not here for anything besides one thing, so sit down or stand, I don't care. Excuse me," I inform him.

I stroll past him with his hands up, keeping my gun pointed towards him, "Oliver, take over holding him hostage for a minute," I demand, waiting for Oliver to take control of the situation before I lower my pistol and escort towards the monitors. I rest down on the chair, my eyes viewing the screens and watching what action is occurring. "Hostage, are there any threats?"

"No, ma'am," he responds, "Are you going to kill me? I have a family."

"No, mate, not unless you piss me off or move. Now, where's the camera to the second floor?" I challenge, attempting to figure out the system of the cameras. Harry has the palace systems set up entirely different, and in an order I understand. This dimwit seems to have them all over the screens. Go figure.

"Middle monitor."

"Thanks, pal," I respond, nodding my head and moving the mouse to the screen I'm looking for on the second monitor, double-clicking it before looking down at the keyboard and typing in a code. "Well, fuck, wrong camera," I mumble, following as the camera on the third floor goes black. I attempt again, gazing at the screen, patiently waiting before grinning. Finally, the camera on the second floor facing the door with the gold numbers goes black. "Okay, now how do I move the cameras in the hallway on the first floor?" I speak out loud, pressing a few keys on the board.

"It's through the mouse, Her Majesty."

"I love how your tone of voice has changed since a gun has been pointed towards you," I chuckle to myself, retaking control of the mouse and beginning to move the cameras so that there are blind spots for when I walk down specific hallways. "Okay, perfect... now to password-protect these settings for two hours so that you cannot move them until I'm done with them," I speak out loud, spreading my fingers across the keyboard repeatedly, opening up various screens and codes before obtaining what I demand.

"Alright, sir," I turn around in the chair and stand to my feet, facing the man who has been silently standing with Oliver's gun pointed to him. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding here, but here's how this is going to go. You're going to continue to do your job, you're not going to speak a word of this to anyone, and if you do, nobody will believe you. There's no trail of me being here. I'm still in the art room," I point to the screen where Madeleine stands in the same dress I am wearing, her brown hair styled the exact way as she glances at portraits, keeping her back turned to the camera. "Have a good night," I grin, walking out of the security chambers with Oliver, strolling through the blind spots, so my stroll back to the event is not observed.

I enter the event, taking a breath as I discover Madeleine gawking at a black and white portrait, "It's done. We will leave in an hour if Harry doesn't show up first." I acquaint Madeline with a small smile across my lips.

Madeline nods her head, "Do I go back to Louis?" she questions, unsure of what to do next.

"Yes, stay with him until you see my signal. You have a knife, right?"

"Yes," Madeleine nods, "Strapped to my thigh, but I don't know how we will lose Louis." She signals to her boyfriend subtly, glancing at him as he speaks to one of the artists at the event, a broad smile across his lips with sparkling eyes.

"I'll handle him," I respond, splitting from her and losing myself in the masses of people, mingling and networking until I can advance with the second part of my disposition.

♠ ♠ ♠

I admire art because it can tell a narrative, and sometimes it's a story only the artist thoroughly understands. I wonder what fascinated artists to compose the pieces they do and why the woman in this composition in front of me has the saddest eyes I have ever observed— yet, they're so attractive and captivating. They're the variety of eyes that you desire to gaze into forever, where you want to understand the emotion streaming through her body and why she is the way she is. Every detail about the painting is stunning, from the colour to emotion to each stroke the artist has delicately designed. I stare closely at the eyes, losing myself in a woman that I can't wholly comprehend. As I gaze closer, the eyes become familiar as they stare back. There's a sense of myself washed between the strokes. The woman's outlook is poised and felicitous, with a black gown elegantly hung over her shoulders. Although her outlook is beautiful, put together and happy, her eyes tell a story far different. For a brief moment, melancholy travels through my veins, a reminder that everything isn't always as it appears. Even art can be deceiving.

"Of all these pieces of art I have seen, I think you're my favourite," a voice distracts me, taking me by surprise as I turn around to observe Harry with a glass of wine in his hand extending towards me.

I grin and I take the glass of wine from him, "You made it." I graciously smile, bewildered but thrilled to recognise him draped attractively and at the event.

This man never seems to fail to amaze me. Even when he desperately wants to sleep, he still takes that spare hour to attend an event at my request. When this event is over, I will crawl into bed, and Harry will work his shift until morning. I find it endearing that he makes the effort for me.

Harry nods his head, "I promised I would, it might be the last hour, but it counts," Harry chuckles, aligning his tie that is around his neck, "What have I missed?" Harry sweetly asks, his eyes glancing around briefly, noticing how guests are not all over me and there are no other royals wanting to talk. The event is calm and collected, something that he is not used to.

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, "Not much, there is a speech. Would you like to give it?" I cheekily question, encouraging him to speak to the public. He has succeeded to avoid his duties when it comes to talking to the public. He does everything possible to avoid them and to sojourn in the shadows.

Harry shakes his head, "Nope, I enjoy not addressing the public."

"You will have to at some point."

"No, no, I will not have to," Harry responds adamantly.

"Do you want to sneak off?" I softly question other concepts in my mind.

Harry chuckles to himself, "Anna, I have been here for two minutes. Can you not keep your hands off me?" He wears a smug grin on his face, looking me up and down with his eyes. From the way he has an arrogant smirk on his lips, he is undressing me with his eyes.

I roll my eyes and take a sip of wine, "No, just come with me, okay?" I take his hand, glancing around and walking away, weaving in and out of the small crowds of people admiring the complex art pieces.

I reach the lobby of the building, and my heels sound and vibrate against the marble flooring, the bright gold lights flickering on as they sense me walking down the abandoned hallway. "Oliver," I stop in my tracks, turning on my heel and facing Oliver. I hand him my glass of wine, "Please, leave us alone. I do not need you on my service at the moment."

"Ah," Oliver sounds, frowning for a moment before he stares at Harry, wanting his approval.

I sigh, "You work for me, not him." I gesture towards Harry, making it known that what I want is what will happen this evening,

"Actually," Harry interjects, "He works for me, I am his boss," Harry presses, "And I don't know whether he should be dismissed."

I gaze at Harry and raise a brow, "This is for you and you only," I narrow my eyes on him, my eyes glancing between his eyes and his lips.

"Stay right here, don't let anyone pass," Harry instructs, and I begin to walk off, leaving them behind me.

Harry catches up to me, his long strides walking beside me as we pass various doors, none of them being the one I am looking for. I take a left and wander down another hallway before finding a side staircase, wasting no time walking up to them, ignoring Harry's questions as I make my way to another floor. I shove open the heavy door before I take a left until I reach the end of the hallway, where I am greeted with a white door with gold numbers on it. "Are you going to explain what we are doing?" ... "Because I am not sure I read the signals here correctly, I thought we were going to have sex."

I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair, my fingers stopping when they touch the bobby pin in my hair. I pull it out of my hair and straighten it out before I push it into the lock of the door. "Anna, what the fuck are you doing?" Harry hisses, stepping closer and shadowing over me, "There are fucking cameras. You're going to get caught." His voice is sharp, his body close to me.

I roll my eyes, "I disabled them."

"How? Anastasia Styles, what the fuck are you doing?" He whispers in my ear, far from pleased.

"You talk too much," I chuckle, managing my hand and the bobby pin. "My husband is the second lead in security. You have taught me a thing or two," I inform Harry before I discover the lock click, and my other hand shifts the door handle, shifting down on it before the door opens. I turn to Harry, smile up at him, and I kiss his cheek. Then, I stretch away and place my hand in his pocket, releasing the bobby pin, "Keep that safe for me."

"I am highly turned on, but I need to know what you're doing if it isn't dirty sex."

I wander into the room, and Harry accompanies me, his hands benevolently grasping me at the hips and pulling me into him. I caress my hands to his chest, and he glances down at me with a wide grin, "I'm entirely turned on right now," Harry clears his throat, causing my ego to build.

"Down boy, not now," I shake my head, "Later," I wink, gingerly spreading my hands down to the waistband of his pants, "I promise, later," I lick my lips, giving him a saucy grin as I let go of the belt and step away from him, my eyes concentrating on the desk in the heart of the room. I make my way over to it, examining every inch of the frame, scanning for anything that could be beneficial. "Baby," Harry whispers, his hand picking up the Gold nameplate on the desk.

"Yes, Harry?" I question, my hand travelling the edges of the desk before I flip my hands to rest under the desk, pressing to see if there is anything concealed on the underside of the desk.

Harry gazes at me, puzzled as he fiddles with the nameplate in his hand, "What are you looking for?"

"You're convinced Pippa is a murderer, anything to prove your case. I am also looking for documents or anything to prove she isn't innocent."

Harry pauses for a moment with a sigh, "So, we are blindly looking for shit?"

I nod my head, "Shut up and help or be the lookout, you pick." I gesture towards the door, not having time to have small talk with him.

Harry wearily sighs, "Prefer to be having sex," Harry mutters, shaking his head disapprovingly, provoking me to chuckle.

"Later, I promise." I assure him with a grin, "Can't resist a man in a suit," I wink over at him.

"Can't believe you lured me here with sex," Harry continues to shake his head with a chuckle.

Harry views the office, immediately exercising towards the bookshelf and examining the volumes. "Since when is she a literary fascinado?"

"She isn't," I respond, "Her literature books are not my problem. Is this how you do your job?"

"My job isn't to break into offices."

"Don't act like you haven't broken into things and done highly illegal things," I giggle, opening up the desk draws and rummaging through them, attaining nothing but pens and ordinary stationery.

I know Harry has done illegal things, many illegal things that he doesn't wish to discuss.

"Baby, she isn't going to leave things in plain sight." Harry points out.

I disregard him and proceed to examine the desk, dragging out the drawers and investigating to see any hidden compartments. Finally, I gaze up to notice Harry drawing at the air grille on the wall where the air vents are. "I don't have a good feeling about this."

"Your woman's intuition isn't needed," I respond, overlooking him as he glares over at me before descending back towards the bookshelf, seeming intrigued. Harry taps his foot anxiously, his eyes darting between the door and the books, his hand reaching for one of the books before he opens it, flipping through the pages. "Find anything interesting?" I curiously ask.

Harry glances over his shoulder, "She doesn't strike me as a Shakespear reader."

"Neither do you," I respond, unsure of why he is interested in her collection of books. "Harry, now isn't the time to read Shakespear, darling."

Harry waves me off, slamming a book shut and setting it on the shelf, cocking his head to the side as he operates his fingers across the spines of the works, intently scanning each spine. "Baby," Harry takes my attention, his hand halting at a spine and drawing it out, "This is a fake," Harry remarks... "It is binded wrong."

"Darling, you're not helping," I shake my head, encompassing my hands over the desk, baffled that I have found nothing to help. I know an essence in this office can prove that Pippa is not on my side.

"If you'd stop acting like I am here reading fucking Shakespear while you do scandalous shit, you would see that this book holds some of the missing jewellery that was stolen from the Palace," Harry comments. The book spread open in the palm of his hand. In contrast, the other hand holds up one of the emerald necklaces wrongfully stolen from the palace.

"Leave them. They're tainted now," I mutter, watching Harry place the book down.

"Darling," Harry glances at me as he steps closer to the desk, "Stand up for a second," He instructs, and I do as he states.

He discreetly moves the several pieces on the desk, placing them on the floor before he encompasses his fingers to the corner of the desk, "What are you doing?"

"Nobody has a desk this clean and empty, especially a prime minister who should have papers on her desk," Harry points out, pulling up on the marble veneer, causing the top of the desk to pop open. "You're a genius, Harry," Harry caustically mimics my voice as I step closer to cast my eyes down on what is beneath the marble while Harry holds it up. I take out a meagre green box that takes my interest instantly. I bite my lip before I remove the lid, my breath hitching in my throat as I gasp. "What is it?" Harry immediately challenges, glancing over at me, his hands still holding the marble veneer.

I gawk down at the box with a satin material at its bottom, settling as a cushion for the 1852 Aldrich sword. When I left this weapon in possession of Harry, I had all intentions for it to go back to safekeeping. I didn't anticipate it to abandon the palace grounds and become blanketed in dry blood. "I think I have a murder weapon," I whisper, holding the sword up for Harry to view.

"Jesus Christ, Anna, why touch it? Now your fingerprints are on it!" Harry raises his voice insignificantly, shaking his head, "Put it down, let's get out of here."

"No!" I respond, setting the sword down in the chair and gazing further into the desk, opening up a file, my hands picking up the papers. I cock my head to the side, focusing on the documents, "Harry, how many copies are there of the maps to the Palace?"

"One."

"Who has them?"

Harry replies after a brief pause, "I do."

"Wherever you had them, Pippa has gotten into them. These are the undergrounds of the Palaces."

"Good thing I have them memorised and don't need them," Harry counters as I set the maps on the chair as well.

I discover the character of the entrance door creak, and my hand stretches for Harry's lower back, taking out his gun that he hides in the band of his pants. Harry frees his hands, abandoning the marble veneer, generating a tremendous bang as I direct the gun at the entrance, protecting us both of who may wander in.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" I immediately snap towards Oliver, who has his pistol pointed towards me in return.

"Put it down,"... "Now!" Harry elevates his voice, denoting his hand to the gun in Oliver's hands. "You have two seconds!" He's pissed.

Oliver designates his gun to the floor, and Harry takes his pistol from my hand, "I told you to stay where you were," Harry grumbles, "You never and I repeat never, hold a gun to her without retracting once you realise it's her. Do you hear me?" ... "I know I have taught you fuckin' better!" Harry keeps his voice raised. "And you," Harry looks at me, lowering his voice, "You don't devise these fucking plans without me."

I raise a brow, but don't respond, I will discuss this with him in private.

Oliver bows his head, "I didn't expect to see her. I thought it was Mr Ace."... "Sir, people are on their way up here. You both need to get out of here."

"Stall them."

"I can't. I tried," Oliver answers as I accumulate the files and hold them out towards Oliver, indicating for him to take them.

I seize the sword, and Harry gawks at me, "Fuck no, leave that here."

"No," I shake my head, "It has my prints on it. I didn't kill whoever's blood is on here."

"Fucking hell, Anastasia," Harry grunts, snatching the dagger from me in his free hand, "Let's go, preferably without shooting each other," Harry commands, motioning for me to accompany him as he manoeuvres around the desk. I follow Harry out and Oliver behind me, wedging me in the middle of them as we mindfully wander out of the office with our incriminating evidence that doesn't prove anything besides the fact that I now resemble a murderer. Great.

"I should have stayed in bed," Harry murmurs, shaking his head as he leads me down a corridor, not too satisfied with me. But, of course, he'd have done the corresponding action if he had identified this was Pippa's remote office that is kept off the grid. I have been hunting for the damn office for the last few months. I am surprised Harry didn't figure it out sooner.

The questions that lay at bay are:

Why does Pippa have the underground maps to the palaces?

And who's blood is dried on the sword that I threatened parliament with?"

"I'm going to make a speech about art history and acts of kindness... Oliver, keep those files secure and Harry...." I trail off with a grin, "Thank you, and I love you," I lean up and kiss his cheek.

Harry places his pistol back in its resting position in his pants before he tenderly wraps his fingers around my wrist, dragging me back into him, "I love you, but this better have been a foolproof plan that kept you safe,"

I nod my head, "All safe, I promise."

"No trace back to you being anywhere else but in that room?" Harry signals towards where the art event is taking place.

"Security cameras were all password protected and moved so I could walk in blind spots. Madeleine is dressed like me so that it looks like I never left if anyone looks at surveillance."

"I'll take these things to the car, make your speech, and we are leaving."

I nod my head in response, "Be careful, okay?"

"I'm not that one that needs to be careful," Harry grumbles, continuing to express his distaste for the events that have occurred over the last few minutes. "Oliver, watch her. I'll be back in ten minutes." Harry instructs, leaving me in the care of Oliver as I wander back into the event and prepare to make my speech, changing personalities from undercover Sherlock Holmes to Queen.

♠ ♠ ♠

Wandering the grass with Harry is seldom the only time we get to be a couple. There's nobody to bother us, it's solely two people who are crazily in love, having the chance to walk hand in

Harry and I stroll hand in hand across the grass of the Palace, undividedly pissing off the guards that are observing us intently. They, along with my mother, don't approve of anyone being on the grass. However, exercising across the grass late at night after events is one of the things Harry and I always do. It's our romantic thing.

I like being able to hold his hand without anyone seeing us besides the guards. At this time of evening, most workers are asleep, and my people aren't lining up at the gates to attempt and get a glimpse of the Royal world. At this time of night, there are no tours or garden picnics for the people, and there's no chaos.

"I was thinking about seeing if we could take a weekend trip," I begin, softly bringing up the idea of getting away from the Royal world. It is starting to consume both of us, whether he'd like to admit it or not. "I'd like to go to the countryside."

Harry nods his head, "I can talk to Matthew and organise going to Ireland. You like the Palace up there."

"No," I shake my head, "I don't want to stay on Royal grounds. I want a weekend away, no staff, no royal palace."

"Oh, okay," Harry agrees, "I can find us a cottage for a weekend." ... "I was thinking sometime after the opening of parliament and the Royal events, we could possibly go on a week-long vacation. How does that sound?"

I smile widely, "I'd like that a lot."

Harry's thumb glides over my fingers, "I'll plan it, darling, and run it past Matthew."

"Have I told you lately you're an excellent husband."

Harry shakes his head, "Hmm, not recently."

"You're really good to me. I wish I could do more for you."

"You do a lot for me. I love you... Don't ever forget that."

"It's pretty hard to forget," I chuckle, watching as the Palace lights flicker on and off. "Guess Matthew is telling us to hurry up?"

"I'd say so," Harry nods, the two of us picking up our pace and heading towards the Palace doors. "Pretty turned on by your little scheme tonight," Harry begins with a grin, "I was not expecting that."

"Always expect the unexpected with me," I chuckle, "It's about time we reverse roles."

Harry nods, "Mhm," Harry hums, "As hot as it was, honey... I don't want you getting hurt. It was dangerous."

"Not anymore dangerous than people wanting to kill my family."

"Anna," Harry shakes his head before he sighs, "We just need to play it cool around Pippa until we can corner her."

"I think we should just leave, pack up and leave."

Harry nods his head, "Maybe something we can discuss," Harry chuckles, not taking me seriously.

"I don't want the crown anymore, I want to give it up."

"Sadly, you cannot." Harry responds and I grow quiet, my eyes looking down as we walk.

I want it all to end.

♠ ♠ ♠

Harry smiles as he spins me around, my dress twirling before he takes me back into his arms, holding me close as we both chuckle at our bodies colliding together.

He leans down and kisses my shoulder, slowly moving to the slender column of my neck, his breath tapping my skin with each kiss before he bites down gently, causing sweet shivers to trail down my spine. He drags his mouth from my fevered skin and looks up at me with his teeth between his lip, his eyes ablaze with glory and devilish thoughts. He leans forward and crashes his lips into mine, taking hold of possession of my mouth, his hands falling to the small of my back and pressing me against him.

My brazen hands clutch his shoulders, our kiss deepening as I feel him against me. I pull away from him with a cheeky grin, all my desires to tease him coming to mind.

"How much do you want me?" I question getting him back for all the times he has teased me.

Harry swallows hard, "Anna, not now."

"Tell me." I insist, my hands trialing his V-line every so slowly and effortlessly, my head cocked to the side as I watch him squirm, "I don't think you want this enough."

"Anna," Harry stops as I press my hands to his belt and pull him closer to me, "Oh, fuck," he whispers, my hands unclipping his belt and letting it dangle, my hands then unbuttoning his white shirt, pushing it to fall off his shoulders and down his arms, revealing his gorgeous body that I can never get enough of.

I press my lips to his bare skin, trailing kisses from his shoulder to his neck, biting lightly and beginning to suck on his skin, his hands moving their way to my back and trailing their way up my body, feeling every inch he possibly can. Then, finally, I release his skin, and he breathes heavily.

"No more teasing," Harry breathes out, taking control of the situation and pushing off the wall, "Jump," he instructs. I do as I am told, and I wrap my legs around his torso, his body strength holding me up as our lips crash and I taste his honeysuckle lips.

He lays me down on the bed, hovering over me, with one hand beside my shoulder, holding him up, "May I?" He questions, his other hand at the edge of my gown, waiting for permission. I nod my head, and he clasps his hand against my thigh, squeezing it as he leans down to kiss me.

Harry drags his lips away from mine, peering down at me with his sumptuous, enrapturing, loam-grey eyes that are saturated with nothing but love and anticipation. He smiles and leans down, kissing my fevered surface at my neck, causing a moan to shake my lips, my hips thrusting up against his body. "I want you," I murmur, my palms clasping his shoulders and pulling me up against him further, his teeth nipping my neck, dizzily charming me. "I need you," I whisper, keen apprehension igniting within me without him tampering with my sanity.

"What do you want?" His breath taps my skin before he kisses me skillfully, his fingers altering the material of my dress so he can explore my torso, his gracious hand stroking my skin.

"Please me," I instruct, wriggling against the touch of a wet kiss urging to my cleavage my dress isn't covering.

He lifts his head again, his eyes meeting mine as he effortlessly moves the straps of my dress down my shoulders, skimming his palms down my arms before allowing the straps to rest, "Beautiful," he gawks for a moment, enabling the material to fall just under my boobs. He leans down and kisses my neck, gently moving to my collar bones before sweetly kissing the middle of my chest. He nonchalantly makes his way down my chest, taking the dress with him with one hand, the other holding my boob, massaging it mildly.

I gasp as I welcome a wet kiss just below my stomach, my breath hitching in my throat in excited expectancy, "Baby, you okay?" He immediately questions, gliding my dress down my thighs, awaiting my response as he tosses it to the floor.

"Mhm," I hum, my fists progressing to his silken curls as I dip my head back, his kisses along my waist prompting my head to spin. I know what's next, and I've been longing for it since the moment I woke up. Yet, I've kept myself contained for the day.

I clasp his curls and release the moment he's between my legs, his tongue giving me what I want without a tease. I gulp hard, the verve building inside me with every sweet motion he presents me with, my body squirming as he clutches my thighs with his firearms. Then, he finally draws my legs over his shoulders and immediately provokes my defences to break, and his name occurs from my lips in a moan.

I run my fingers through his hair, tugging carefully. "Right there, don't stop," I murmur, battling the ripples that are coming at me, his embrace growing tighter on my thighs. My body tenses at his actions and the welcoming emotions he advances with his tongue. "God, don't fucking stop," I beg, becoming breathless as I repeatedly wiggle against him, the tips of my toes aching to curl. I arch my back, and all at once, the charge of emotion and pleasure runs rampant through me.

I let go of his hair wholly, my hands falling to my side as I'm left breathless. Harry glances up and grins, moving his body to hover over me as he leans down and kisses me profoundly, drawing his lips away after a few moments, "That good, huh?"

"You want praise?" I clasp my hands to his exposed chest, pushing on him and flipping us over.

I straddle his hips and lean down, striking him with endearments of kisses, unable to keep my hands off of his body and my lips away from his. I increase my power in a profuse, delighted kiss, our tongues colliding and tasting the walls of our mouths, moans breaking free between us with angst and urgency. Finally, I drag away from our liquid kiss and fumble my hands to his pants, hurriedly unzipping his pants. "Jus' gonna take control?" Harry questions, endeavouring to flip us, but I shift his torso down...