The Crown Thief and Her Alpha Prince

CHAPTER 6 - THE NEW MAID

Prince Edmund Harrow’s Point of View

Prince Edmund could not believe his eyes.

It was her. 

The woman he had met in the forest. The one who had plagued his dreams, despite being a human. The one who wanted to steal the Golden Crown of Skavon from his father, the Alpha of his pack. 

Part of him had believed she would not go through with her plans. 

The part of him that did believe that she was really going to try to steal the crown had envisioned her taking a whole different approach. Edmund had thought she would try to sneak in at night. Coming to the castle in broad daylight to get hired was bold, but was not a stupid idea by any means. The small woman had guts and smarts, he had to give her that. 

In either case, he had not expected to see her ever again (unless she got caught), let alone so soon. 

What had Nestor said her name was? Edmund had been barely listening to the steward. As a prince, he did not usually learn the names of the castle staff, especially not the ones of the humans. Edmund’s father liked to keep more than a hundred and fifty servants at the castle. Knowing them all would be quite the feat. 

Plus, they did not tend to stay very long at their service. Few could endure King Leopold’s explosive temperament. Edmund himself could also be quite demanding. He was, after all, a prince, and expected nothing but the best. 

No, Prince Edmund usually did not bother learning the names of people working for him. He tried to tell himself he did not care about her name either, but he could not refrain himself from asking:

“Nestor, what did you say her name was?”, Edmund said, pointing at her. 

She was looking at him with wide eyes. He could smell her rising fear. The little thing was probably wondering what he was going to do with her. He wondered the same thing. He had no idea yet. 

Yet, underneath her fear, he could still sense a hint of desire. Who had she been thinking about before he came? Of him? Of their encounter in the woods? Or of some other human peasant she had affection for back home?

Edmund’s wolf growled furiously when he imagined her with another man. 

Mine.

That line of thinking would not do. 

Nestor seemed puzzled as to why the prince would want to know the name of one servant after showing such disdain towards learning anything about them but answered regardless.

“It is Amelia Cooper, my liege. She is a most qualified candidate as she was - ”

Nestor continued on, rambling about Amelia’s qualifications, but Edmund was not listening to a word he was saying. Instead, he kept looking at her. 

Amelia. 

What the bloody hell was he going to do with her?

She was here to steal the Golden Crown of the Harrows. 

That was not the problem.

The night she had told him about her ambitious plan, Edmund had said he would love to see her do it. He had not lied. He had no love for his father in his heart. King Leopold was a poor excuse for a father, always more worried about his plans for glory and fortune (or about his stupid crown) than about his children. He would be furious at losing his precious crown, which would be quite amusing. 

Edmund’s life was quite boring. Every single moment of his life was meticulously planned. No one dared discuss with him in any meaningful way, for fear of angering him - or his father. Between stuffy meetings and useless politics classes to keep him up to date with the kingdom, the Prince never had a moment for himself - except for when he escaped the castle at night from the gardens to run as a wolf.

Seeing his father’s plans foiled and his most precious possession stolen would be quite entertaining, as a nice change of pace from the gilded little life his father had planned for Edmund.

There was another reason Edmund wanted the crown gone, but he was not ready to admit it quite yet, not even to himself.

But whatever Edmund’s reasons were for wanting the crown gone - and whatever were Amelia’s, was of little importance at the moment.

King Leopold Harrow was not at the castle. His father had insisted on doubling the size of his summer palace, and was overseeing the construction. He would only be coming back for the wedding of his son William with Princess Eleanor of Ivory, in a month. 

Amelia, if she were to really steal the crown, would have to be at the palace for a whole month. He would have to lie to the castle staff, to his own brother and sister, to protect her for a whole month. 

She would be at his mercy. Her life would depend on his silence. He could ask her to work for longer hours, to obey his every whims at any time of the day and night. 

He could summon her to his room, command her to get on her knees and to take him in her mouth. Then, he could command her to lay on his bed, offered before him like a sacrifice, and pleasure her again and again, with his hands, with his mouth, with his c**k, until her body could not handle more. 

That was the real problem. 

Something was wrong with him. His wolf was reacting as if Amelia, this scrawny little human female, was his fated mate. The one his wolf would do anything to protect. The one made for his wolf. The one made for him. Which was ridiculous. No wolf ever had a human as a fated one. That never happened. 

Edmund’s wolf was probably jealous that his brother William was getting a mate and not him, and was projecting its desire to mate on the closest available female. Yes, that must be it. Fixating on a female because he was too lonely made way more sense than having a human as a fated one.

William and Eleanor had met twice when they were younger - not a long time, but enough to know they were not fated.

They might not be fated mates, but it did not matter much. Most wolf shifters never found their fated mate. Many doubted that everyone even had one to begin with. They eventually mated and settled with someone who was not their fated one, out of love or out of what the mating could bring to the pack. Most such matings were very happy affairs. 

It’s not like being fated ones guaranteed happiness anyways. Edmund’s father King Leopold and his mother Camilla, had been fated mates. It did not do them any good. Camilla had died when Edmund was nine, and his father had never been the same after. He became bitter, finding solace only in gold and riches - and in his stupid crown. 

Edmund had made a vow to himself that if he ever found his fated mate, he would stay as far away from her as possible. 

Love had turned his father into a monster. Edmund would never fall in the same trap. 

When the time came, he would find a suitable mate from an affluent family to have a political and strategic marriage. No feelings needed to get involved. Feelings were messy. Feelings left you vulnerable and, as an Alpha Prince, Edmund had no room in his life for vulnerability.

Amelia was as human as they came. She therefore could not be his fated one. The way his body was reacting, craving hers in a way that was almost overpowering, the strength with which his instinct was constantly screaming to protect her, to make her his, that could not be due to them sharing any supernatural link. It could not.

Could it?

Edmund could not squash the little voice in his head (and in his heart) whispering that Amelia might be his fated one. That was why he had to tell Nestor to send her away. Not because she might steal the crown. Because there was a chance - albeit a very small one - that the desire he felt towards her was partly due to her being his fated one.

If she was, she had to stay far, far away from him.

Nestor was still rambling about her qualifications. Edmund cut him short.

“She’s too frail to be a maid,” he stated, refusing to look at Amelia again. 

Edmund was pleased at how even and dismissive his tone was. If Nestor was surprised by his change of heart, he did not show it.

Amelia was very thin, that much was true. He had noticed last night, but it was even more apparent in the daylight. She had dark bags under her eyes, and her cheeks looked hollow. She clearly did not always have enough to eat. His wolf felt uneasy about that. Amelia should never have to suffer. He could provide for her, make sure she could eat as much as she needed...

Edmund stopped that train of thoughts in its tracks. It was official: he was going mad.

“Of course, my Prince,” said Nestor, bowing. “I will escort Amelia to the main hall, and will find another candidate.”

Edmund dared to glance at Amelia. He should not have done so.

He thought she would be annoyed, but relieved. The poor thing had been so afraid when she had seen him enter the gardens. She had probably feared he would have her imprisoned or executed for what she planned to do to his father. Sending her away might foil her plans and leave her frustrated but, in a sense, it was a kinder fate than what she deserved. 

Amelia was a con trying to steal the crown. A consequence-free exit was the best he could give her.

Relief was not what he saw when he looked at her.

Her eyes were shooting daggers at him, pure fury burning inside them. She looked as if she was going to try to strangle Edmund right this moment. 

But worse than her anger was the despair that fueled it. If she could not stay at the castle, she would have nowhere to go. If she could not steal the crown, she had nothing to do. The possibility of her holding the crown was the only reason she got up in the morning, and he was stealing it from her. 

“You will regret this," Amelia hissed at him.

Her voice was dripping with venom, but Edmund knew there was no real bite. He knew that she knew that this had been her last chance to enter the castle grounds, and that it was squandered. 

She was like an injured, stranded wolf that had nothing left to do but to try to bite everything around it. 

“Now, young lady, this is no way to address a prince!” Nestor said, sounding positively shocked. “I am awfully Prince Edmund, this will not happen again, I will never let such an unworthy candidate be presented to you.”

Nestor placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards the castle. Seeing Amelia being touched by another male, to guide her away from him no less, was making the prince’s blood boil in his veins.

Mine. 

“Wait,” Edmund said, his voice coming out as a growl. “When did I say I wanted you to send this young lady away?”

“But, Prince Edmund, she… You said she is too thin, and she just spoke to you like she - “ Nestor started.

“She is staying. That’s the end of the discussion,” Edmund stated, his tone imperious. 

Amelia’s eyes were still shining with anger - and a hint of fear - but Edmund could see something new inside them, something that warmed his cold, bruised heart.

Hope.