{Third Person}

Barron reluctantly accepted the reasoning. It was difficult to argue against logic. Just as he opened his mouth to suggest another possibility, Alexander spoke again.

"I will leave her in your care."

Barron’s eyes lit up almost immediately. A grin slowly spread across his face.

It was not the grin of a man receiving a burden. It was the grin of a man receiving a gift.

Alexander watched the reaction with mild amusement.

Barron looked genuinely pleased. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately."

Barron’s grin widened further. In fact, he looked delighted.

The opportunity to deal personally with someone who had plotted against Amara seemed to please him far more than it should have.

"Do not kill her." Alexander delivered the warning immediately.

Barron sighed dramatically. "You take all the fun out of these things."

"I am serious."

"So am I."

Alexander gave him a flat look, but he laughed, then leaned back comfortably in his chair, already appearing lost in thought.

Whatever ideas were currently forming inside his head, Alexander suspected Lila Caldwell would not enjoy any of them.

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As the days passed, preparations for Alexander’s birthday banquet gradually transformed the palace.

What had once been a distant event discussed casually over tea now felt real.

Servants moved through the corridors carrying fabrics, decorations, documents, and invitation records.

Carriages arrived almost daily, bringing supplies from noble estates and merchants eager to contribute to an occasion that would attract attention from both kingdoms.

Even the atmosphere within the royal palace felt different. There was a constant sense of activity in the air, as though everyone was quietly preparing for something important.

Rumors about attending nobles spread among the servants. Lists of confirmed guests grew longer by the day.

The royal kitchens had already begun discussing banquet menus, while palace officials busied themselves with seating arrangements and security preparations.

The entire kingdom seemed focused on the upcoming celebration.

Meanwhile, life inside Amara’s residence had settled into a much calmer routine.

Ever since the temperature of her room had quietly returned to normal, her health had improved considerably.

The persistent weakness that had plagued her during the worst of the winter had gradually faded, and the frightening marks that had surfaced beneath her skin disappeared once more.

If she had not witnessed them herself, she might have convinced herself they had never existed at all.

Only Mrs. Woods knew better.

Neither woman ever brought up the subject again. Some matters were simply easier left unspoken.

That afternoon, Amara stood beside a table in the living room while several beautifully crafted boxes rested before her.

All five of the shawls, each one exactly as she had envisioned from the beginning, were carefully placed beside her.

She carefully unfolded them one final time, running her fingers across the embroidery while inspecting every detail once more.

A small smile appeared on her face. For the first time in several days, she felt genuinely pleased.

Mrs. Woods stood nearby watching her reaction before speaking to lighten the mood, "They turned out beautifully, My Lady."

Amara nodded. "They did."

She carefully folded the final shawl before placing it inside one of the decorative gift boxes.

For the next several minutes, both women worked together, arranging everything properly.

Soft protective cloth was layered between each shawl to prevent damage.

Decorative ribbons were tied around the boxes, and several small sachets filled with dried flowers were tucked carefully inside to leave behind a pleasant floral fragrance whenever the boxes were opened.

By the time they finished, the gift looked elegant enough for royalty.

Amara stepped back and admired their work. A feeling of satisfaction settled over her.

"I hope he likes them."

Mrs. Woods smiled. "I am certain His Highness will."

Amara’s expression softened. The words should have reassured her. Instead, they reminded her of something else entirely, and the smile slowly disappeared from her face.

Ever since the day she confessed everything inside his study, she had not seen him once.

Not in the palace.

Not in the gardens.

Not during meals.

Nowhere.

She had not even heard his voice. Though part of her was relieved, another part felt strangely unsettled by the distance.

Mrs. Woods noticed the change immediately and called her attention. "My Lady?"

Amara hesitated before glancing toward the gift boxes. "The banquet is only a short time away now."

Mrs. Woods nodded. "It is."

Amara looked away. "Perhaps..." She hesitated again. "Perhaps it would be better if you delivered these to His Highness on my behalf."

Mrs. Woods blinked, then she laughed softly.

Amara looked embarrassed immediately. "What?"

Mrs. Woods shook her head. "My Lady, that would not be appropriate."

Amara’s shoulders slumped slightly. "It wouldn’t?"

"No." Mrs. Woods’s smile became gentler. "A birthday gift carries meaning because of the person giving it."

Then, she gestured toward the boxes. "You drew the designs, selected them, chose the materials and spent weeks preparing everything."

Her expression grew knowing. "His Highness should receive them from you."

Amara immediately looked uncomfortable. The very idea made her nervous.

Mrs. Woods pretended not to notice and continued, "My Lady, delivering a gift personally is more respectful."

Amara sighed. Deep down, she knew Mrs. Woods was right. That was precisely the problem, because delivering the gift in person meant seeing Alexander again.

And she still did not know how to face him.

Every time she remembered that morning, her emotions became tangled all over again.

The fear, the interrogation, the threats.

Then the realization that he had ultimately protected her instead of exposing her. Nothing about it made sense. Not entirely.

And because she could not understand him, she found herself increasingly anxious about meeting him again.

"What if he doesn’t want to see me?"

Mrs. Woods looked genuinely surprised. "My Lady, he is your husband."

The reminder only made Amara more embarrassed, so she lowered her eyes immediately.

Mrs. Woods laughed softly before patting her hand. "You are worrying too much."

Perhaps she was.

Yet as Amara looked toward the carefully prepared gift boxes, she could not ignore the nervous flutter building inside her chest.

Sooner or later, she would have to see Alexander again.

And for reasons she could not quite explain, that thought made her far more nervous than she cared to admit.