THEY MUST'VE WALKED for ten minutes straight in complete silence before Hartley thought to stop. And when he finally did so, he did it suddenly with no prior warning.
Hartley halted in the middle of a hallway, a safe distance away from the garden. They had wandered so far off that they were now in a corridor which Alice did not recognize. It wasn't anywhere near the places Wyatt and Charlie had brought her to in the few other times she had visited the royal palace. So, she assumed that they had now walked towards the inner wings of the palace, a place where the royal family resided and was a restricted area for all outsiders unless given permission.
"Feeling better, Your Highness?" Wyatt asked cheekily. From where Alice stood, she could see the young man's eyes light up in amusement.
Hartley, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to slaughter someone.
"You sure took your time, Wyatt," he barked back. "I thought I told you to hurry over as soon as possible."
"You have guests over. I was warned by others not to disturb you while you're having tea with the ladies." The white-haired man raised a hand to his lips, his eyes narrowing as he grinned in the shadows. "What an interesting group of potential brides you have, Your Highness."
Prince Hartley, the image of elegance and refinement, let out a cold snort at Wyatt's words. He rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest as he sneered.
"If you're interested in having a double-edged sword sleeping by you at night then I suppose they'll be an interesting group of potential brides. The ladies invited today are all as fake as their parents." Then, his voice lowered to a softer volume. His eyes quickly scanned their surroundings first before speaking, "You know that I'm not interested in any of them. They're all selected by my mother."
"Of course." Wyatt maintained his serene smile. "If you say so, Your Highness."
Hartley wrinkled his nose at Wyatt's calm expression. Ever since they were children, Wyatt had always worn perfected neutral smiles. It was never too friendly nor too cold. If Hartley had to choose a word to describe it, Wyatt's signature smile was polite. That was it.
In his youth, Marquess Ragan used to be an advisor for the king when he was still the crown prince, similar to the relationship between Hartley and Wyatt. As a result, after the two were born, they had plenty of time to interact with one another from their childhood through teenage years. If it weren't for spending years with Wyatt, playing by his side, Hartley wouldn't dare hire someone like Wyatt to work beside him. After all, though their appearances were the furthest apart, Wyatt's personality was entirely similar to someone else Hartley knew.
His younger brother, the second prince of Gladiolum. Prince Spade.
They wore mirroring smiles that reeked cordiality. However, there wasn't a single person on the planet that could guess what was truly in their minds. They were both scheming foxes that hid behind beautiful fur. Their charming faces were nothing more than flawlessly sculpted masks.
Perhaps it was a good thing Wyatt was working directly under him as his closest confidant. Their friendship might help deter any schemes his younger brother might steer his way. Wyatt didn't seem particularly fond of the second prince. That was one of the main reasons why his mother even allowed Wyatt to stay and work for Hartley in the first place. She didn't want anyone too friendly with Prince Spade to work so closely with her precious son, in fear of having Hartley's position as crown prince snatched from right under his nose.
His mother always had too many unfounded worries. Although he was always suspicious of his younger brother, Hartley knew that Spade would never make an attempt for his life. They were brothers. And if Hartley was sure of anything, it was that he adored his younger brother, more than he would like to admit.
As his mind compared Wyatt Ragan to the second prince, his eyes found their way onto the girl who stood at Wyatt's side. She silently waited, fingers leisurely intertwined with one another as she looked around the hallway they were standing in the middle of, soaking up the sights as though she was in the middle of a garden. The paintings that lined the walls were indeed precious works of beautiful art but she was also in the presence of royalty.
'Does she even have an ounce of respect?' Hartley silently thought to himself, frowning.
"You," he snapped, scowling when he noticed how slowly Alice turned her face towards him.
In his mind, he compared the girl that stood before him and the girl that he had shown the rose garden to. They didn't match up one bit. Where was the ferocity? The wonder? The curiosity? Why did the Alice that stood in front of him now seem so much like a ditzy airhead, comparable to the women waiting for him in the gazebo?
"Do you even know who you're in the presence of?" He snarled, perching his hand on his hip.
Luminance danced in Alice's blue eyes. All of a sudden, they began to sparkle like gemstones, gaining the light of a bright summer day whose earth was thriving with life. The sight made Hartley's mouth turn dry. He had simply doubted her for a second and she had shown him nearly immediately that the spitfire was nowhere near gone.
"Of course," she answered fairly. "Your Highness, the crown prince of Gladiolum, Prince Hartley."
"And yet you've not shown your respects?" He retorted. His face displayed the message that his words didn't phrase perfectly. 'Why didn't you greet me?'
Alice frowned. Her eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "I did, Your Highness. Back at the gazebo. However, it seemed like Your Highness was too busy with tea to notice."
The more she stressed the words 'Your Highness', the more Hartley sensed the sarcasm behind it. His eye twitched, the back of his tongue itching with the need to fight back verbally. He had allowed himself to drop his defenses for a split second and had forgotten how sharp this woman's tongue was. When there was something she believed in, she would stupidly charge forward, bringing hell and rain just to prove her opponent wrong.
As Hartley's lips parted to counteract her words, Wyatt stepped forward, wedging himself in between the two. He serenely smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he said, "I can vouch for that, Your Highness. She did, in fact, offer her greetings in the garden. She was curtsying for so long but you hadn't noticed so I told her to get up first."
Again, Hartley's eyebrow jumped, jerking with annoyance that his most trusted aide was siding with Alice. Alas, that was the danger of a beautiful woman. She may not be one of the nobles of Gladiolum, not a flower with poisonous pollen. However, she was a weed. A destructive plant that could blend in and overtake the entire garden.
"Graceless," he uttered under his breath, spinning away. "You're never going to survive in Gladiolum's capital if you remain so haughty in front of people who can crush you like an ant."
He snuck a look at her as he spoke the last few words in the sentence, watching her reaction from the corner of his eye. She simply chuckled and the strong, overbearing look of a ferocious lioness disappeared. Alice wore the mask of an innocent angel, a beautiful white lotus flower. The curve of her lips was now soft, her eyes bright with unclouded radiance as she placed a hand on her chest.
Her next words left Hartley shaking where he stood, wondering if the woman that stood before him was actually a witch that could read his thoughts. She replied, "I am a weed, Your Highness. I may not be a beautiful blossom in Gladiolum's garden of flowers but rest assured that when I wish to, I am capable of blending in."
Hauntingly, the look Alice wore reminded Hartley of the expression Spade and Wyatt always equipped themselves with. It seemed as though some parts of them had rubbed off on Alice, or she was one of them all along and he had underestimated her severely. Whichever it was, she seemed different from when Hartley first met her at the ball, that was for sure.
She dipped into a curtsey, holding her skirt up so that it wouldn't pile on the floor. Her sudden movements surprised Hartley once more, causing him to take a minuscule step backward. Catching his actions from the corner of her eyes, she grinned to herself.
"Thank you for showing me your rose garden, Your Highness. A thousand apologies if I've offended you," she cooed in her sweetest tone. With her words, Hartley knew that she had connected the dots and realized that he was the one that had spent time with her before the ball had started.
He coughed lightly into a clenched fist, his cheeks aflame. "You're pardoned," he murmured.
It wasn't as though he wanted to actively fight head to head with Alice. He simply thought she was interesting and wanted to see why Wyatt and Spade were so enamored with a nameless girl like her. He didn't realize that he was also part of the group that had been unknowingly besotted by Alice's charms.
After all, it was rare for someone to appear from seemingly nowhere and point a finger at him without fear of offending him. Hartley was so used to people licking at his boots that it was more interesting to see people who wouldn't bend for the crown. That way, at least he knew that the person wasn't befriending him just because of his status. Alice, for one, didn't seem to care one bit that he was the crown prince. She made that very clear with the way she acted in front of him.
Clearing his throat, he turned his attention towards Wyatt. Although it was true that Wyatt had been instructed to bring Alice into the palace, there were also other matters that Hartley had wanted to check with Wyatt. For now, he kept his mind away from the buzzing trivial matters and returned his attention to the more pressing problems that were awaiting him.
"Have you investigated the cause behind it?" He asked. Although his question was directed towards Wyatt, his eyes kept darting towards Alice.
"Yes," Wyatt replied. "I've summarized both the findings and possible theories here." Holding his briefcase up higher, he wiggled it slightly. "Although, I'm afraid there's still nothing solid found regarding that. Of course, the most plausible theory still is that it's—"
"No," Hartley curtly cut in. "It's not him. I know it's not." Pinching the skin between his eyebrows, Hartley sighed in frustration. "Continue searching. The perpetrator will act again very soon. The date is looming nearer and nearer and he wouldn't be able to sit still. Find him when he strikes. And then, finish him. I'm losing my patience. These games are no longer fun."
"As you command, Your Highness." With a gloved hand pressed against his chest, Wyatt bowed. He stepped away from them, headed for the direction of Hartley's office. However, before making more than five steps, he stopped and turned back. "Your Highness!" He called.
Hartley didn't reply, simply arching an eyebrow up questioningly.
"Be careful about who you introduce to the flowers of Gladiolum." Wyatt cast a pointed look at Alice. "Or how you introduce them."
Hartley scowled, offended. "Who do you think I am? I've been doing this for years."
At his words, Wyatt simply laughed good-naturedly. "Of course, Your Highness." Wyatt's eyes were reduced to two curving lines when he smiled, every bit as dazzling and charming as his other smiles. However, the dimness of his words and his tone couldn't be ignored. "Just wanted to remind you."