Chapter Two-Hundred-and-Forty-Seven
**3rd Person POV**
“You do not have to worry about anything. I will ensure that the investigation is run without any bias,” those were the first words he uttered the second he saw her. She ignored his words and asked, “What are you doing here? Is it not better that we do not see each other again? Your words, not mine.”
Earlier, when she had tried to kiss him in the garden, he had pulled away telling her that he could no longer continue with their affair.
“Charlie…” he called to her softly but Charlotte was not interested in listening to what he had to say. She was about to enter her room when he held her hand. She rolled her eyes at this gesture. What was it with vampires stopping her this night?
“Kristoff, I think it's best you leave me alone. Your people might think you connived with me to kill Major Drieden because he happened to tamper with my honour,” Charlotte hated that she sounded bitter. She wished she could take back her words but it was not possible.
Kristoff knew she was angry. He held her close in his arms and did the only thing that made sense to him at that moment.
He kissed her.
The second their tongues locked, there was just no going back. At the risk of someone seeing them, Charlotte opened the door and as soon as they were inside, they shut the door firmly. Kristoff scooped her in his arms and led the way to her bed. He pushed her on the bed but she groaned in pain. Worry coloured Kristoff’s face at once.
“What's the matter?” he asked.
She rolled to her side and pointed at the bed. Together, they took off the cover and behold, a shiny black gun was staring at them.
****
It was not until Drieden had died that Francesca realised the horror of what had happened. It was not until Azrael had insinuated that a werewolf had murdered Major Drieden that she realised that she could be in serious trouble. It was not until King Armand had sealed the palace that it occurred to her that there was no escaping this. So she had gone to the only place where she knew she would be protected and paced about the room waiting for its inhabitant to come asking into the room.
And he did.
Harlin entered his room thinking, what a night. He stopped when he saw Lady Francesca pacing about his room. What could she possibly want from him now? He had made things very clear when he had told her that he was not interested. It had taken a lot of effort but he had stayed as far away from her as he possibly could. Why was she so determined in her pursuit for him and why this night of all nights?
“I thought I made myself clear,” said Harlin. He wanted to say more but he could see Francesca’s lips shaking and her fingers trembling.
She was scared.
“Francesca? What is it?” asked Harlin. Her fear was getting to him.
“I… I didn't kill him. I swear, I swear… It was not me. I did not do it,” Harlin walked towards her and hugged her. He wanted to assure her that he believed her. He understood that with Azrael's insinuation, she would be afraid that King Armand would throw them all in the gallows to execute them all.
“I know. I believe you. Why are you so scared?” asked Harlin. He believed there was something more to her trembling hands.
“He is going to tell everyone that I… that I… I didn't do it, Harlin, I swear…”
“If you do not tell me what has happened, I cannot help you,” replied Harlin.
“Lowell… Lord Lowell… He's going to tell everyone that I… that I… I swear It was not me,” tears were pouring down her face in torrents.
“Francesca you're not making sense,” said Harlin.
“I… I told Lowell… I told Lowell that I would kill him… it wasn't me, you have to believe me,” she was sobbing hard into Harlin's arms.
Harlin allowed her to cry until she was a lot calmer. Then he sat her on his bed and got a wet rag to wipe her face.
“Can you talk now?” he asked in a soft voice.
“Major Drieden is my husband,” of all the things in the world Harlin was expecting to hear, those were not words he had been expecting from her.
“What?” quipped Harlin in shock. Before Francesca could say anything further there was a knock on his door.
Francesca’s face melted in horror as she looked at the door.
“They are here; they are here to take me away.”
****
Lord Lowell was a man who always believed in a backup plan. If plan A failed, then plan B was sure to come through. His backup plan was Reginald.
He was no fool. He had seen how in the last couple of days Reginald and his wife had become very close. He had observed that at certain times at night, his wife would disappear and when he happened to find her, he would see her in the company of Prince Reginald. He had also not missed the way Reginald’s eyes followed his wife when they were in the same room.
He had seen the two laughing together in the stables when he had been on his way to see Major Drieden. They had stood side by side laughing away into the night like lovers. An intense form of anger had brewed within Lowell. He had watched as Reginald helped his wife mount his (Reginald) horse and how he had climbed the same horse afterwards. He had witnessed how Reginald wrapped his hand across his wife's waist in the name of riding a horse.
He had vowed in his heart that he would get his revenge but at the time, he had to take care of business first.
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