Anna's POV

I walk into the breakfast room and smile at my mother, father, and Syrus, feeling a mix of amusement and disbelief at seeing the villain himself enjoying his strawberries as if he weren't blackmailing people in his quest for the crown. He looks so innocent, pretending to be a devoted family man who loves having breakfast with his brother and sister-in-law. I approach the table, offering another smile as I take my father's cup of coffee. "I'm sure you'll need this for your hangover," he remarks, unimpressed by my gesture.

"I am not hung over," I respond. "I saw you at the bar, you set me up," I accuse Syrus at the breakfast table, my words making my mother pause mid-bite, her eyes darting to mine.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Syrus replies, his tone calm as he takes a sip of his coffee. "I was at the cottage."

"You're lying," I shake my head, adamant. "I saw you watching me."

"I don't find your life that enthralling to watch, Anna. That's your security guards' job," he retorts with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"But you were there," I insist.

"Anna," my father cuts in, his voice firm, "He was at the cottage with me. I can confirm that."

"I know what I saw," I counter, feeling isolated in my certainty.

"You must be mistaken," my father suggests soothingly. "It's okay, it happens. You've been under a lot of stress, and we all see things that aren't there, especially after a few drinks."

Their dismissals are smooth, and calculated, and my discomfort grows with each word. They're wrong, I think, even as a sliver of doubt creeps in. Am I truly recalling what I saw, or is the stress finally getting to me? The certainty I felt wavers, but deep inside, the truth gnaws at me, persistent and unsettling.

I stare at the three of them, looking for answers that I won't find. "Mother?" I look towards her, unsure of why she hasn't said a word.

"I was also with them at the cottage," my mother confirms with soft eyes. "You did have a lot of tequila, honey."

I nod my head in defeat. Did the tequila deceive me? Surely not.

I walk out of the room and find myself in a secluded part of the palace, a space filled with paintings and art pieces that are covered with sheets. The room is large and dimly lit, with only a few overhead lights casting a soft glow on the covered artworks. The air is cool and carries a faint scent of dust and old canvas.

The darkness feels oppressive. I slide down the wall, resting my back against the wall as I hit the floor, my head in my hands. My mind is a battleground, and I am losing.

"Did I really see Syrus?" I mutter to myself, the words barely audible. The image of him at the bar is so clear, so vivid. I can still picture the way his eyes met mine. But now, doubt seeps in, insidious and cold.

Could it have been the tequila? I shake my head, trying to dispel the thought. I've had my share of moments, and alcohol has never played tricks on my mind like this before. But everyone else is so sure. They were all at the cottage. They all say I was too drunk to know what I saw. I swear he was there. He handed me a drink.

I get up and start pacing, the motion giving me a semblance of control.

The questions swirl, each one more damning than the last. "Am I really losing it?" I ask the room. My reflection in a gold mirror looks back at me, eyes haunted and tired. "Is this what it's come to? Seeing ghosts in bars and doubting my own sanity?"

Is this what is coming to? Talking to myself in a room trying to convince myself that I am sane... It' is only insane if I answer my own questions, right? Fuck, maybe I am losing my sanity like I am everything else.

I close my eyes, trying to steady my racing thoughts. What if the stress is getting to me? What if this is just a symptom of everything I've been dealing with lately? Work, family, and the constant pressure to keep it all together. Maybe my mind is finally cracking under the weight.

But then I think of Syrus, of the way he looked at me. It felt real. It was real. I know it was.

"Or was it?" I whisper, the doubt creeping back in.

*** Flash Back ***

"Shots on me," I grin, gesturing for a round of shots for the new friends' I have encountered while on a tequila high, tequila running through my veins— giving me a new sense of freedom and being on fire in an excillering way. It feels like I have unearthed a new sort of high where nothing and nobody can damper my spirits. I want to feel the rush of tequila down my throat and the beat of the music never end amongst the sensations of bodies dancing. It's a feeling I have never had the privilege to feel before, which is odd— privilege is something most would say I have— how ironic.

I throw my head back, the clear, cold tequila humming through my body as I bite down on the lime, the thrill radiating as we all smile with twinkling eyes. I'm drinking with random people, trying to keep my cover as a princess. The strangers around me are blissfully unaware, and I relish the freedom of anonymity. My laughter blends with theirs, my eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and apprehension. I never want this night to end. Is this what freedom truly is? I want to live on this high for as long as possible.

Then, out of nowhere, I see him. He's standing against a wall, a smirk painted across his face, the overhead lights casting a dark shadow on his face. "What did you say your name was?" A girl asks me as she hands me another shot.

I smile at her, taking the chilled tequila in my hand, "Sophie," I respond, taking the shot and eyeing the man in view. I glare at him as the lime touches my lips. I can't believe he's here, lurking in the shadows, acting as though I cannot see him.

The man wanders closer, "Smile," Syrus laughs, holding his phone up and taking a photo of me, "Parliment is going to love this."

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, "And you will still never have the crown," I respond with a mischievous chuckle. Fuck him, and the crown.

"And, you my dear are irrelevant now," he responds, "Here, have another," he hands me a glass.

I cock my head to the side, "It isn't tequila."

Syrus shakes his head, "It's better," he responds, "It's second best to tequila, whiskey. Go ahead, take a drink."

A voice inside my head tells me not to, but the devil on my shoulder who doesn't have a care in the world takes the drink, downs it and hands the empty glass back to Syrus, my eyes staring him dead in the eyes. "I will see you on the other side," I smile.

"Bold," he comments before stepping away, leaving me alone with the unknown bodies around me.

The club spins around me, bright lights flashing like dismantled stars burning out, yet still managing to blink in my vision. I take a heavy breath, feeling the tequila take over my body, clouding my thoughts and numbing my fears. I know I've screwed up, and even though I'm terrified of what awaits in the shadows at the end of this tequila high, I can't help but love every moment of this chaos. The club is bouncing, a dizzying sensation pulling at my head as I dance among a group of girls, our drunken giggles barely audible over the pounding music and the hollering men at the bar.

I dance with a blonde girl—was her name Ivy? Or Mia? No, it was Ivy. Her smile widens, her eyes glistening with a flicker of lust as she cocks her head to the side. "Now, that's a man if I ever saw one," she says with a cheeky grin.

I spin around on my heel a little too fast, and my breath hitches in my throat when my body collides with a familiar scent and piercing blue eyes. Oh, I am really screwed now.

His presence sends a shiver down my spine, a mix of excitement and dread pooling in my stomach. The music seems to fade as my heart races, pounding louder than the bass. I try to steady myself, but the tequila has other plans. His eyes lock onto mine, and I see a flicker of dismay in his gaze.

"Anna," he says, his voice a low, rough whisper that cuts through the noise. I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. I force a smile, trying to mask the whirlwind of emotions inside me.

"Hey," I manage to say, my voice sounding steadier than I feel. I can feel Ivy's curious eyes on us, but I can't tear my gaze away from him. He steps closer, his hand brushing against my arm.

"We need to talk," he says, and there's no mistaking the seriousness in his tone. "And you," Niall flashes a charming smile at Ivy and leans in close, his voice smooth and confident. "Can I borrow your friend for a minute? I promise to bring her back safe and sound. And when I do, how about I make it up to you with a drink?"

I roll my eyes at Niall and notice Ivy smirk as she nods her head. Niall smiles before he takes my hand, leading me away from the dance floor. I glance back at Ivy, who gives me a knowing look and a thumbs-up. I force a smile in return, but inside, I'm a mess of nerves and anger wanting to boil over. Who the fuck is Niall to interrupt and drag me away?

As we weave through the crowd, the music fading into the background, I can't shake the feeling that I'm walking into something I'm not ready for.

Niall leads me to a bar and a cock an eyebrow. Odd place to bring me. More tequila? As if he reads my thoughts he shakes his head, and opens a hidden door beside the stacks of glasses and bottles, ushering me into a small, dimly lit room. It feels like stepping into another world, with the music now muffled and distant, the air cooler and less stifling but I feel suffocated. My eyes meet the bartender as he pushes off the wall, "Feel free to make yourself comfortable," he gestures around, "I have a bar to get to, and I guess explain that you are my sister and not the Princess," he smiles, walking out and leaving me with Niall.

"So," Niall begins as I sit down and press my back against the wall, kicking off my heels. "Do you want to call your security team or shall I?"

I glare at him, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were moonlighting as my personal assistant now. Do you handle all damsel-in-distress calls, or am I just that special?"

Niall chuckles, leaning against the wall with a smirk. "Only the special ones, Anna. Besides, someone's got to keep an eye on you. You have a knack for finding trouble." His eyes soften slightly as he adds, "But seriously, you okay? You don't usually do this without Harry."

"I don't have to do everything with him around," I respond.

Niall nods his head, "Fair enough, I guess I am calling him?"

"Well, I'm sure as fuck not going to," I respond bitterly, leaning my head back and closing my eyes with a sigh.

No matter how much tequila I pour down my throat, it doesn't wash away the weight of stress on my shoulders. And no amount of tequila can erase the crown that always seems to rest on my head, no matter how many times I try to pawn it off like an unwanted chess piece.

The weight of expectations presses down on me like a heavy cloak, suffocating and relentless. No one bothered to consider my desires or fears; they simply thrust the crown upon my head and expected me to carry on as if nothing had changed. But everything has changed. I long to know the feeling of true freedom, to breathe without the weight of duty bearing down on me.

Home should be a sanctuary, a place of solace and comfort. Yet, for me, it's a fleeting concept, a distant dream. It's not confined within the walls of a palace, but rather within the heart of a man whose love I can't return in the way he deserves. He deserves better than to be tethered to my uncertain fate, better than to be ensnared in the web of politics and tradition. Home isn't always four walls; sometimes, it's found in the rhythm of a heartbeat. As poetic and sweet as that may sound, it leaves me unsettled to realize that my home resides within a man with green eyes, a man who doesn't wish to marry me— a man who has his own secrets he doesn't wish to share. Within the intricate dance of palace life, there's another player with his own secrets, hidden behind the façade of charm and charisma. He moves with a quiet confidence, his every step calculated, his every word a carefully crafted illusion. My drunk thoughts whisper of his ties to a world far removed from the glamour of royalty, a world where secrets are currency and trust is a luxury.

I ache to break free from these constraints, to carve out a path that's truly mine. But for now, I'm trapped in a world that's not of my choosing, yearning for a sense of belonging that seems forever out of reach.

I glance at Niall as he pulls out his phone, a mischievous glint in my eyes. "Careful," I begin, my words laced with a tipsy slur. "You might open a can of worms."

"How so?" Niall's curiosity piques.

I chuckle, feeling the warmth of the alcohol coursing through me. "His people are going to be mad when they find out."

"Find out what?" Niall looks puzzled.

"About us," I reply, my words trailing off as I notice the rip in my stockings. "Really mad."

Niall's confusion deepens. "I don't understand."

I tilt my head, my gaze unfocused yet intense. "Secrets are currency and trust is a luxury," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.

Niall raises an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and intrigue dancing in his eyes. "Poetic and drunk," he remarks with a smirk, but I can sense he's caught onto something deeper beneath my intoxicated ramblings.

"He doesn't trust me," I murmur, the words slipping out like a confession. "I'm like his dirty little secret, hidden away in the shadows while he parades around in the light." The hurt lingering beneath the surface like a festering wound.

"You're just a little drunk."

"And yet I am still in my right mind," I retort with a smirk, my words slightly slurred from the tequila. "Well, mostly. At least enough to know that I should probably stop talking before I accidentally spill all the secrets. Can't have that, now can we?" I chuckle, a hint of mischief dancing in my eyes.

"Secrets like what?" Niall asks, his curiosity evident in his tone.

"Like I want to marry him," the words leave my lips effortlessly. "And that he's—" I stop speaking as Niall's phone goes off and he answers it, leaving me in my drunken thoughts. "He's been lying to me," I whisper, the tequila high slowly wearing off. I want more tequila, I don't want to feel these feelings. I want to find the bottom of the bottle and wash it all away.

*** end flashback**

Harry's pov

I rub my tired eyes as I navigate yet another endless hallway, the ornate details blurring together. Exhaustion weighs heavily on me, and my mind races with a thousand worries. I take a deep breath and go over my mental checklist: review the security cameras, escort the king at noon, remind Anna that I love her, call my sister and father, and section of the tunnels.

"We have an issue," Niall seizes my arm in the hallway, his grip like a vice.

"I'm busy," I respond, my mind scattered in a hundred directions, none of them on Niall.

"No, this isn't some bogus issue we discuss over poker," he growls, yanking me back with unexpected force. Alarm bells ring in my head.

"What is it?" I sigh, irritation bubbling up; the last thing I need is another problem.

"Anna has a meeting with parliament."

"And why are you telling me?" I snap, impatience threading through my voice.

"Because you're the one fucking her," he spits out, his eyes blazing, "you're the only one who can convince her that threatening them is a terrible idea."

"What?" My eyes widen, shock slamming into me. "And I am not fucking her," I mutter, my voice dropping to a fierce whisper.

"Come with me to the throne room," he demands, his tone brooking no argument. He drags me along, leaving me no choice but to follow.

I wander into the Throne room with Niall, where I perceive Anastasia resting on the throne with one of the Royal swords on her lap. Her hand travels down the edges of the cover while the men of Parliament watch, all standing in proper suits. I glance towards Matthew, and he shrugs his shoulders subtly, indicating he has no clue what's going on. I step closer to him, my eyes focused on Anastasia. Anastasia takes the sword from its case and caresses her finger to the tip of the blade, gazing at the polished piece effortlessly and holding more power than I ever imagined attainable. Anastasia cocks her head to the side and smiles at the men, "I assume you're wondering why you're all gathered here today?" Anastasia questions, and the men all nod their heads, a few grunts escaping while a few shoes shuffle against the flooring.

I'm not sure whether this is good or bad, something inside me tells me I need to stop her, but I cannot.

This is her power. Not mine. On the other hand, I'm mildly turned on by this.

"You all know about the history of this sword, right?"... "We know it isn't The Sword of Mercy since this isn't the coronation of the British monarch." Anastasia begins, "This one holds so much history. I can only imagine how many people saw the wrong end of this," Anastasia stops glancing at the sword. She glances towards the parliament members, "In fact, in 1852, this very sword was used by King Aldrich, who slashed the arms of all the men who did him wrong. Legend has it, all men who were slashed three times and managed to fight off infection were cursed for the rest of their pitiful lives."

"Oh, God," I mutter under my breath, "Matthew, do you see this?"

"Shh, I want to hear the rest," Matthew responds, overseeing each man. "If you're not taking the throne beside her, shut up." Matthew presses, giving me his stern stare. He means business. I have no intention of taking the seat beside her. I don't believe it is my place or my throne. I roll my eyes and swallow my thoughts; instead, I shut my mouth and watch.

The men all have bewildered expressions on their faces, and a few seem to move their weight from foot to foot nervously. "Princess—"

"I'm not done speaking," Anastasia corrects one of the men, causing me to chuckle to myself. Damn.

Anastasia clears her throat and stands from her position on the throne, "As I was saying before, I was rudely interrupted by a man who seemingly is ready to use his male influence in an attempt to degrade me... This sword has a lot of history," Anastasia waves it around, "Don't be alarmed, I don't plan to use it just yet... a raise of hands who are the followers of Syrus," Anna instructs, and the crowd stays quiet. "Oh, don't be shy, I know who you are," she chimes happily, forcing a few of the men to raise their hands. "Don't make me name you one by one," Anna smiles.

"Harry, are you going to watch?" Niall whispers, stunned by the events.

"I have no choice," I respond, "Who am I to silence her from making a statement?"

A few men raise their arms silently. Anna clears her throat, "You're all banished. You're no longer my parliament members; I hereby dissolve you," Anastasia proclaims, gesturing the tip of the sword between the gathering of men who believe in Syrus.

"Her Majesty," one of the members begins, "You can't get rid of all of us."

"Oh, I can," Anastasia replies coolly. "But if you wish to redeem yourself, you're more than welcome to bow and repent." She gestures towards the small space at the bottom of the steps.

"Have you lost your mind?" another member declares, visibly shocked.

"I think you have if you think speaking to the future Queen with that tone is acceptable."

"You don't have power. You have a crown, which means nothing when you can't rule a country. You're unfit. The sovereign's powers are those of her government." The man's face turns crimson, and his hands clench into fists.

I hold my breath, not liking his tone but deciding to give Anastasia a chance to stand up for herself as Queen.

"And my government is riddled with evil ties. Following Syrus is not an option. I will not stand for it any longer," she declares, her voice unwavering. Bold mood outing her dislike for her own Uncle. "Those who support my uncle's treacherous ambitions will find no place here."

"You think you can just dismiss us?" another member sneers, stepping forward. "We are loyal to the crown. Syrus is the rightful heir, and the most sane."

"Loyal to a tyrant?" Anastasia's eyes blaze with determination. "I will not allow this kingdom to fall into the hands of a man who seeks to corrupt and destroy it. Those who stand with him will be dealt with accordingly."

"And what will you do?" the crimson-faced man challenges, his voice dripping with disdain. "You are but one woman."

"One woman who has the courage to fight for what is right," Anastasia retorts. "And I am not alone. There are many who believe in a just and honourable rule. I am their Queen, and I will protect this kingdom from the likes of Syrus and his followers."

"You will regret this," the man hisses, but Anastasia stands firm.

"The only regret I would have is allowing evil to prevail. Now, leave this place, or bow and repent. The choice is yours," she commands, her gaze steady and unyielding.

The room falls silent as the members exchange uneasy glances. One by one, they begin to bow, recognizing the strength and resolve in their future Queen.

"I declare she is forced to abdicate, and she cannot have the crown!" One shakes his head mid-bow.

"The final call doesn't belong to you, sir," Anastasia responds, "And if the other members of Parliament don't have the balls to back you, I think it's safe to say that I, the future Queen, have dissolved you." ... "You may all leave... and just as a reminder," Anastasia brings the tip of the sword to her finger yet again, "Don't forget the sovereign's powers are those of her government and the world leaders behind her," Anastasia dismisses the men who instantly start quarrelling, their booming voices bouncing off the marble flooring.

I shake my head and stare at Niall, "This is either going to be good or fucking bad." I murmur before making my way to Anna. I push through the men and climb the few steps where I stand before her while she sits on her throne. "Anna," I begin, unsure what I'm meant to say. I'm not sure if I'm meant to be proud or concerned. The repercussions of this could be grave and impact us horribly.

"That sword won't protect you from a storm of angry men," I comment, just heavy enough for the two of us to understand.

"They're too busy fighting amongst themselves," Anastasia shrugs, "Dissolving them was the right thing to do."

I know she is correct, but this will open a can of worms that we don't want to deal with. Security will have to be heightened further.

"Live by the sword, die by the sword, Anna. I hope you know what you're doing." I am concerned she is holding a power that she can't keep a grasp of.

Anastasia peers at me and shrugs, "Guess I better make it worth dying for," she responds, "You don't have to agree with me."

"I'm concerned for your safety when it comes to dissolving these pricks. They could rebel and burn down the place."

"They don't have torches and pitchforks," Anastasia stands from her position and hands me the sword before kissing my cheek, "Keep this close, my darling."

I regard as Anastasia steps away from me, and I glare towards Matthew before scanning the room. Then, finally, I shake my head and follow Anastasia, trailing her away from the hostile parliament fellows and settling into a peaceful space. "Anna, what's your plan here?" I challenge, taking Anna by surprise as she spins on her heels. "Again, you need to be aware of your surroundings," I comment, aware she was not paying attention to the fact I followed her in here.

"Don't try to make me doubt my decision. I don't tell you how to do your job."

"Contrary to belief, you do," I shake my head in irritation, "But that isn't what I was asking. I am asking as your—." I trail off, realizing I have no real ground to interrogate her. I'm not her husband; I'm simply the quiet boyfriend who's left in the dark.

I grow silent for a moment, clenching my jaw in frustration before shaking my head. "I am going back to work."

"Harry," Anna calls out as I turn to walk away. I stop in my tracks and sigh heavily, turning back around to face Anastasia. "You're asking as my what?"

"Anna, I need to go to work."

"I'm never going to be anything more than the girl who's in love with you, am I?" Anastasia asks, her eyes narrowing as she steps closer to me.

"Are we back to this topic again?" I snap, my irritation rising. "If I haven't proven to you that you mean the world to me, then you clearly aren't taking note. I need to go."

"You agree with them, don't you? That I shouldn't be Queen. And that's why you won't go any further with me."

"Anna, be careful before you dig up something you don't want to dig up."

"What do you know that I don't?" Anastasia questions.

"Please don't make me tell you. I am begging." I breathe out, desperately not wanting to explain anything. I want to be with this woman more than anything but I can't give her what she's wanting right now. She's wanting security and a damn ring.

Her eyes search mine, hurt and determination mingling in their depths. "Why can't you just be honest with me, Harry? What are you so afraid of?"

I feel my patience slipping. "I am being honest. You need to stop questioning everything and trust that I care about you."

"Then why does it feel like you're always holding back?" she demands, stepping even closer, her voice rising. "Like there's always something more important than us?"

My hands clench at my sides, my irritation boiling over. "Because sometimes there is, Anna! Sometimes there are things bigger than us, things I have to deal with. But that doesn't mean I don't care about you. I need to go to work. We'll talk later."

She shakes her head, her expression a mixture of anger and despair. "I'm tired of waiting, Harry. One day, you're going to have to choose."

I turn away, the weight of her words pressing heavily on me, my frustration simmering just beneath the surface. I know I am going to have to come clean and choose, I know the day is coming.

I sigh heavily and turn back to Anna. Anastasia stands in front of me, cocking her head to the side as her beautiful eyes burn into me. With each moment that passes, I feel like I am on trial for murder and being examined intently, judged if you will. "Do you believe them?"

I instantly shake my head, "No, baby." She wants reassurance that those men of parliament were wrong and that Syrus is wrong. However, holding a knife in the Palace doesn't scream: 'I'm a sane Queen.'

"Try not to stab anyone while I am working," I instruct, kissing her lips quickly.

Anastasia smiles and chuckles before shrugging her shoulders, "I cannot promise anything. You taught me how to use a knife well."

I shake my head, "Am I going to regret that?" Then, I question, "Because I am going to need a heads up if I need to move and hide a body."

Anna relocates her hair from around her face and shifts it behind her shoulders to fall down her back. "I'll ask Pippa for help; you seem to think she is good for things."

"Oh, God," I mutter, "Goodbye, Anna, I will see you later," I chuckle, stepping away from her and walking out of the quiet room. I enter into the hallway of bustling staff, almost getting knocked over by one. "Watch it," I warn, letting out a breath.

The man glares at me, and I raise a brow as he shuffles past me and continues on his journey. I shake my head disapprovingly but shrug it off. It isn't my place to tell the staff what to do, but I expect they don't run around like chickens with their heads cut off, running into everyone.

I make my way down the hallway, listening to the in-ear as Oliver and Matthew debate who is meant to be on surveillance in the security chambers. I roll my eyes at the two of them, chuckling to myself before I peer into each office, trying to find Anna's mother, Willow.

I encounter her at a desk and knock on the door out of respect, waiting for her to send me off. Instead, Willow gestures at me, and I close the door behind me. "Must be private if you're closing the door," she laughs.

I nod my head and step closer to her desk. "You're serious," she presses, and I nodded again.

"Your Highness," I begin, but she graciously cuts me off.

"For the love of God, call me Willow."

I clear my throat, "Sorry, Willow," I correct myself, feeling weird to have her name leave my lips. "I need to inform you that your daughter is inciting a war with parliament and Syrus while Alaric is off for the day."

Willow stares at me and puts her pen down, "Well, I didn't expect that. I figured Anna was up to something when she asked where the sword was."

"And you gave it to her?" I curiously ask.

Anastasia's mother shrugs her shoulders and picks her pen up between her fingers, "Harry, her killing those men would be the least of my problems; they have it coming."

"What is it with you women being on a killing spree today?" I question lightly.

Willow doesn't respond; instead, she continues to write on her paper. I can only assume she is replying to a letter of some sort, "Parlament is not my problem, it's Alaric and Anna's. I'm just a silent woman who signs papers and writes notes."

"You're not concerned?" I ask.

Willow seals an envelope and stamps it before hovering it over her desk, gesturing for me to take it. I accept the vanilla envelope and look at her, "Will you make sure this is sent off?" she questions, and I nod my head. I am unsure why she is asking me to deliver her mail; she has an assistant who does that, but who am I to tell her no? "But no, I am not concerned. Anna's taking over, as long as she's firing men, it means she's fighting for the monarchy."

"We have different views," I respond, looking down at the envelope.

Willow takes me away from my thoughts, "Anastasia is doing what I'd have done if given the power. Syrus' sheep can find other things to do. We both know he and his posse don't need to be near the crown."

I bow my head and hide my smirk before I make eye contact with Willow, "I have another question if you have time. I have two."

"My time is valuable, son. Make it worth it," Willow smiles towards me, and I chuckle.

I think for a moment, debating whether I want to ask the question or not. I know this may be crossing the line, but I need answers, and Willow is my source right now.

"Is she going to rule?" I question, "Syrus and Alaric don't seem to be on the same page."

Willow shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, "I can only hope she figures out the ties of this monarchy and learns to overpower Syrus and the family." ... "Why do you care so much?" she questions.

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, "Curiosity."

"Mhm," she hums, "don't you have a flight to prepare for?"

I stare at her with a raised brow. How does she know about my flight? Anna doesn't even know I am leaving tonight for a few hours.

Willow chuckles, "Catch you off guard? That's rare."

"How do you know I have a flight? I haven't told anybody."

"I have my ways of finding out everything. Barcelona is nice."

"You aren't supposed to know where I am going," I mutter, concerned as to how she knows where I am going. Nobody is meant to know.

Willow's smile widens, her eyes sparkling with a knowing glint. "Harry, you should know by now that there are no secrets in our world. Especially not from someone who's learned a trick or two."

I narrow my eyes, my mind racing. In our line of work, being caught off guard could be deadly. "And what world is that?"

She leans in slightly, her voice barely a whisper. "The world where curiosity isn't just a trait, but a necessity." Her gaze locks onto mine, and for a moment, I see a reflection of my own guarded secrets in her eyes.

A cold sweat breaks out on my back. Could she know? The thought of my secret being revealed sends a wave of panic through me.

"I see," I say carefully, masking my concern with a casual tone. "Curiosity can be dangerous, you know."

Willow's smile never falters. "Only for those who have something to hide."

I swallow hard, the weight of unspoken truths hanging heavy in the air. Willow knows more than she lets on, and in this game, knowledge is power. If she knows about my secrets, I need to find out how—and fast.