"Fine," she said, agreeing without hesitation, which gave Hezekiah a brief moment of relief.
"As long as you uphold that promise, I will also keep things strictly official between us," he assured her. Belle simply smiled and walked out of the garden.
Once she had left, Hezekiah's personal bodyguard appeared, kneeling before him.
"Your Majesty, the Duke and Lady Belle were once seen together in the corridor, but nothing suspicious occurred," the guard reported.
Hezekiah frowned, unsatisfied. He was convinced that something far more questionable was happening, though he had no evidence to support his suspicions.
"And he hasn't been seen entering her room at night?" He pressed.
"No, Your Majesty. I have kept close watch on him since his arrival in the castle. He hasn't gone near Lady Belle's chambers," the bodyguard responded.
"That only makes it more suspicious," Hezekiah murmured. "Never underestimate the man who trained you. He can slip past your sight without you even realizing it."
Quinn had been personally enlisted into the army by Hezekiah's father at a young age. Ambitious and fearless, Quinn had grown into a man who fought for his people. But his troubled upbringing had left deep scars.
If not for his emotionless biological mother, he might have been a good husband to Belle. Quinn's view of women had been poisoned by his mother's actions, leaving him incapable of trusting or loving them.
Hezekiah had once believed Belle might be the one to heal him. When Quinn first met her, Hezekiah had seen a rare peace in his old friend. But now, it seemed no one could mend Quinn's fractured soul.
Even if there remained a flicker of hope that his soul might be mended, it was far too late. Belle could never again be his. Should this persist, and he finds means to sway her, extreme measures would be necessary to remove him entirely.
"Yes, Your Majesty," the guard said, bowing before retreating with measured steps.
"Do you lack faith in her, or do you merely seek justification to discard her?" Came Quinn's voice, emerging from the shadows like a prey. His tone carried a mocking edge.
"Must you haunt us wherever we tread?" Hezekiah asked, his irritation palpable.
"Nay, a correction if you will. I follow Belle wherever she goes. You just happened to be there," Quinn replied, a mischievous glint in his eye.
At this, Hezekiah laughed, though his mirth was bitter. "If your love for her was so steadfast, why then did you wound her so grievously? Why did you let her slip from your grasp?" Hezekiah pressed, his words sharp and deliberate, a weapon aimed to strike deep.
Quinn's expression faltered briefly, but he recovered, his tone even and cold. "You know not what we shared. Speak not as if you do. Your ignorance merely strengthens my resolve to reclaim her."
Hezekiah's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "And yet, here you stand, a jester playing at nobility. Had you listened to reason and cherished her when she was yours, you would not now stand before me like a spoiled child denied his toy."
The air between them grew heavy, tension crackling like an unseen storm. Quinn's voice lowered, a warning in his tone. "She is not yours, and she never will be. Yield her to me, and our friendship may yet endure."
Hezekiah's eyes narrowed, a spark of defiance igniting within them. "And deliver her into your hands to suffer once more? No, Quinn, I shall not let her go. The moment you abandoned her, she became mine. Fear not the bond, there are ways to sever it, and I shall see it done."
Quinn's jaw tightened, the mask of his composure slipping ever so slightly. "Say what you will, but I shall not falter. Release her willingly, and the battle will be avoided"
"Strife, you say?" Hezekiah's voice carried an edge of triumph. "This is no mere quarrel but a battle for her heart. Whoever wins her favor first shall prevail. Consider the battle started."
---
That evening, after dinner, Belle paced restlessly in her chambers, waiting for the clock to strike ten. She had delayed moving into Hezekiah's chambers entirely because of this secret meeting with Quinn. She wanted to confront him, to make it clear he needed to leave her alone.
Quinn was the type of man who wouldn't respect boundaries, even after she moved in with Hezekiah. She needed to end things on her terms.
"Do not extinguish the candles. I will be back shortly," she instructed her handmaiden.
As soon as the hour struck, Belle left her room and headed toward the secluded corridor where she was supposed to meet Quinn, hoping against hope that he wouldn't show up.
"Punctual, as always," a familiar voice called from the shadows, startling her.
Belle flinched. He was already there.
"What do you want? Be quick, I need to return to my chambers," she said, her voice hurried and anxious as she glanced nervously around.
"Follow me," Quinn ordered, already walking away without waiting for a response.
"No! We will be seen together. Let's just—" she started, but before she could finish, Quinn turned back and swept her into his arms, carrying her bridal style.
"Put me down!" She demanded, struggling against his hold, her heart racing with panic. She cursed herself for coming.
"You will only draw attention if you keep making noise," he said, his calm tone silencing her protests.
Quinn carried her from the passageway, moving swiftly through two additional corridors before stepping into a room. Belle, too focused on remaining still, only realized their destination once they had entered.
"Did you truly bring me to your room?" She exclaimed, her eyes widening in alarm. Her parted lips betrayed both shock and a creeping unease. What could he possibly be thinking, bringing the King's woman to his quarters?
"Yes, and no," he replied confusingly, his tone as unclear as his expression.
Without another word, he carried her further, out onto the adjoining balcony. There, a modest arrangement awaited. A mat spread neatly on the floor, accompanied by a bottle of wine, two cups, and a flickering candle that lent the setting an air of private intimacy.
Belle frowned, her gaze darting between the arrangement and Quinn. What game was he playing now? Surely, this wasn't meant for her. Yet, the sight of the two cups seemed to suggest otherwise.
"I needed company tonight," Quinn said simply, setting her down on the mat before settling beside her.
"And what of Sofia?" She asked, deliberately avoiding his gaze as she spoke.
"My wife?" He echoed nonchalantly. "She is well. Shall I summon her if you wish to see her?"
At that moment, whatever fragile hope Belle might have harbored extinguished entirely. What foolish notion had crossed her mind? That there was some deeper meaning to this? Of course not. This was merely another ploy to unsettle her, a calculated move from a man who thrived on her discomfort.
Irritated with herself, she seized the wine bottle, filled a cup to the brim, and drank with a defiant edge. Quinn watched her with an amused smile, his satisfaction evident. She might feign indifference, but he knew better. Beneath it all, her emotions faltered, unspoken but undeniable.
"It's a strong vintage," he remarked lightly, taking a measured sip from his own glass. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Belle paid him no mind, continuing to drink until her cup was empty. The wine's potency worked quickly, and she soon felt its effects clouding her senses.
"Why are you so relentless in pursuing this… deal?" she asked suddenly, her voice softer now, weighed down by her growing drunkenness. Her heavy-lidded eyes struggled to remain open as she stared at him.
Quinn shook his head, smirking at her inability to hold her drink. "You can't even manage a single cup," he teased, before his expression grew more serious. "We made a vow once…to belong to no one but each other. I am simply keeping my word. You still belong to me."
Belle scoffed, her disbelief spilling into a wry laugh. "From the lips of a man who now belongs to another? Pray tell, Quinn, who belongs to whom in this twisted tale?"
"Do I?" He countered smoothly, a smirk curling at the edge of his mouth as he raised his glass to his lips.
Belle shook her head in mock pity. "Poor Sofia. Imagine being denied by the very man you call husband," she said, exhaling sharply as her gaze drifted upward to the stars, seeking solace in their distant glow.
"She is my wife, that much is true," Quinn said softly, his voice carrying a note of solemnity. "But I never claimed to belong to her."
His words drew Belle's attention, her head tilting slightly as she regarded him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. Slowly, her gaze locked with his, the faintest flicker of doubt crossing her features as she tried to discern the meaning behind his cryptic admission.