Love, and Other Torture Devices

The small smile dancing on Almira's lips seems to linger with an ease all too natural to be phony.

"Tell me Almira, how do you like Latovia so far?" It is the first time during their entire sitting that Edmund's father has acknowledged his future daughter-in-law.

Edmund sits back in his seat lightly, letting his gaze move to the young brunette sitting to his left.

The same smile remains on her face as she nods, "I absolutely love it. Your kingdom is absolutely beautiful, Your Majesty."

"You're extremely gracious, Almira."

Edmund does not even blink as he stares at his father, follow his gaze to Almira, before allowing his gaze to fall to his nearly cleared plate.

"You're a lucky man, Edmund."

He looks up from his plate, watching his father chew a piece of meat with his gaze stuck on Almira. He glances at Almira, who is focused on her own dinner. Nodding, Edmund leans forward slightly, blocking his father's line of vision, staring into the older man's eyes. "I know."



"If anyone should request Almira's presence," Edmund's jaw is abnormally tight, "I will know about it before she leaves her sleeping quarters."

James nods, "yes, Sir."

"Even if that person is my father. I don't care if it's the Pope. No one sees her without my permission. You stay here and make sure that's carried out."

The Prince's personal servant nods quickly.

"Don't disappoint me, James," Edmund says as he slowly backs away from the nook entrance to Almira's sleeping quarters.

James lowers his head, bending his knees ever so slightly.

Edmund turns on his heel and begins walking down the dimly lit corridor, listening to the sound of his own foot falls echo.



"It's been nearly a week, Prince Edmund. Nothing happens at night, are you sure you really need to assign your servants to watching Almira's bedroom?"

Edmund rolls his neck as he stops walking, turning his body to face the shorter man. He glares down at him, "Chancellor, you assume that I do not know this?"

The man shifts from foot to foot, keeping his hands tightly folded in front of his small gut. "I just think--"

"That's the problem!" Edmund's voice raises as his eyes widen. "You're thinking more about my personal affairs than the foreign and domestic affairs you were appointed to think about."

The Chancellor clears his throat, "Prince Edmund."

"Chancellor Phillips, I would suggest," Edmund quickly looks around the empty corridor, "that if you plan on keeping the title of Lord High Chancellor when I move onto the thrown that you shut your filthy mouth and continue walking down this hall and out of my sight."

The Chancellor bows lightly, before silently walking away from the heated prince.