The wagon trundled through the battered wooden gate. The creaking and groaning wheels left deep tracks in the churned mud, until finally coming to a stop, as if the horse had refused to pull it any further. Amelie and Celine stepped down from the wagon to be saluted by the biting wind that hindered their approach to the barracks. Nevertheless, Celine would take the discomfort of the wind over unwanted advances and coarse remarks of the soldiers who would have been crowding around them on a nicer day. Now, only the few unlucky ones keeping watch were trying to steal glances at them.

“We are here to see Commander Amir Baros,” Amelie said to one of the guards, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to make herself heard over the wind. “Tell him that Lady Amelie Strout has come to speak with him.”

The soldier's eyes narrowed, and he turned away to relay the message. The moments stretched on, tension thickening the air around them until it was almost suffocating. When he finally returned, his face bore a grim expression that sent a chill down Celine's spine.

“The commander refuses to see you,” he spat, clearly taking pleasure in delivering the cruel news.

Amelie's face crumpled, and she swayed on her feet, her heartbreak as palpable as a physical blow. Celine caught her before she could fall, supporting her mistress with a steadfastness that belied her own inner turmoil.

“Please,” Amelie whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “I must speak with him. I have to make him understand.”

“His answer is final,” the soldier sneered. “But we have the house full of men who would be more than willing to entertain a classy lady like you. Maybe you could give them a share of your faithfulness.”

Amelie’s face turned pale upon hearing the soldier’s insulting words. It seemed like it wasn’t until now that she realized the scale of the damage that the malicious rumor had caused – not only to her relationship with Amir, but also to her reputation. Celine felt a surge of protective fury rise within her, but she knew better than to provoke the guard any further. Instead, she steered Amelie away from him, shielding her from the prying eyes of the other men who had begun to take notice.

“We should leave, my lady,” Celine said softly, her voice a soothing balm against the turmoil raging within Amelie. “We will find another way.” She guided Amelie back towards the waiting wagon, shielding her from the jeers and taunts of the soldiers who watched their retreat. Amelie clung to her like a lifeline, silent tears tracing a path down her pale cheeks.

As they climbed back into the wagon, Amelie's shoulders shook with suppressed sobs, her hands clenched in her lap. Celine's mind raced to find a solution. She had never thought highly of Amir – she found him arrogant, rude, and smug. But now, seeing how deeply he hurt Amelie by rejecting her, Celine disliked him more than ever before. By willing to believe the nasty rumor without so much as hearing Amelie’s side of the story, he was putting his manly pride above their relationship, and Celine found it utterly despicable. However, she knew that Amelie couldn’t help loving him, no matter what. That’s why it was out of the question to leave the situation as it stood.

“Amelie,” she began hesitantly, “perhaps I could speak with him? There must be some reason he refused to see you, and maybe I can get through to him.”

Amelie looked up at her friend, pain and confusion clouding her brown eyes. She nodded slowly, as if afraid that any sudden movement might shatter her fragile heart.

“Stay here,” Celine said, steeling herself for what she was about to do. “I hope I will soon be bringing better news”.

Leaving Amelie in the wagon, Celine ventured back towards the barracks. The wind seemed to whip around Celine, almost as if it too sought to deter her from her mission. She walked with purpose, her steps steady and determined despite the turbulent winds, the unease twisting in her stomach, and the soldiers warily eyeing her.

Ignoring the uneasy glances, Celine strode up to the guard who had delivered Amir's cruel message to Amelie. Her gaze was unwavering as she fixed him with a piercing look that made him shift uncomfortably.

“I need to speak with Commander Amir Baros,” Celine said with a firmness that brooked no argument.

The guard's expression hardened, his lips curling into a sneer. “He already refused to meet Lady Strout. Why would he listen to the pleads of her maid?” he scoffed.

Celine held her ground, refusing to be belittled by this man. “I do not come as a mere maid,” she stated, her voice carrying a hint of steel that cut through the biting wind. “I come as a loyal friend of Lady Amelie Strout. And I come not to plead but to demand answers on her behalf. It is within your best interest to announce my presence to Commander Amir Baros immediately.”

The guard hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face at Celine's unwavering demeanor.

“The hell with it,” he finally snarled. “At least I got another break from this damned storm.” With a grudging nod, he turned and disappeared into the barracks.

The moments dragged on, each second feeling like an eternity to Celine as she stood her ground against the biting wind and the hostile stares of the soldiers around her. Finally, the guard reappeared, his expression guarded as he motioned for Celine to follow him.

As she stepped into the barracks, Celine's senses were assaulted by the smell of sweat and leather, the sound of muffled conversations, and the sight of soldiers huddled around a table playing a game of dice. Their eyes followed her every move, some with open curiosity, others with suspicion. Celine felt their gazes on her, but she refused to let their judgment sway her determination.

Celine's steps echoed on the cold stone floor as she followed the guard through the dimly lit corridors, her heart pounding in her chest. Finally, they reached a heavy wooden door guarded by two soldiers who eyed Celine warily. Without a word, one of them knocked on the door before pushing it open.

“Enter,” came a gruff voice from within, and Celine stepped inside.

Amir was sitting on the edge of his bed, his muscular frame wrapped in bandages and marred by bruises. But despite his condition, he gracefully stood up to meet Celine. His dark eyes locked onto hers, and the intensity of his gaze sent shivers down her spine. The air between them crackled with tension, thick and palpable. The dim light from the fireplace flickered across his face, casting shadows that only served to heighten the intensity of his gaze.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

“We heard that you were involved in a tavern fight,” Celine started timidly while the door was closed behind her. “Amelie was worried sick about you.”

“And you?” Amir asked. “Were you worried about me?”

“Amir, please,” Celine began, her voice wavering slightly as she tried to keep her emotions in check. “This isn't about me or my feelings. This is about you and Amelie.”

“Are you so certain?” He challenged, taking a step towards her, his gaze piercing into the depths of her soul. “Your loyalty to Amelie is admirable, but is it truly enough to suppress your own desires?”

Celine felt her cheeks burn with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. She tried to step back but found herself pressed against the door.

“Amir, I don't know what you're talking about,” she stammered, attempting to maintain her composure. But her eyes betrayed her, darting down to his lips before returning to meet his gaze.

“Ah, but I think you do,” he whispered, closing the distance between them even further. His hands came up to rest on the door beside her head, effectively trapping her. “I have seen the way you look at me when you think no one is watching.”

Her breath hitched, and she couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine as his warm breath ghosted over her skin. The sensation made her tremble, her body betraying her as it responded to his proximity. She could feel the heat radiating off him, drawing her in like a moth to a flame.

“Amir, please,” she begged, struggling to find her voice amid the torrent of emotions coursing through her veins. “This isn't right. I'm here for Amelie.”

“Are you?” he challenged, his lips curving into a wicked smirk as he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Or are you here for me?”

In that heated moment, Celine's resolve began to crumble. Her body yearned for him, her heart ached with the weight of unspoken desire. But as her thoughts turned to Amelie, the guilt threatened to consume her.

“Stop,” she choked out, pushing against Amir's chest with all her strength. He staggered backwards, a look of surprise and pain flashing across his face. Drawing on every ounce of willpower she possessed, Celine tore the door open, stumbling out of the room as she struggled to catch her breath. Then she rushed out of the building.

Celine's breath came in ragged gasps as she stumbled through the courtyard towards the wagon, her knees weak and trembling. The cold mud beneath her feet and the rain whipping against her face felt like a shock of reality, grounding her in the present moment - away from the stifling heat of Amir's room.

“Amelie,” Celine panted as she climbed into the wagon. “We must leave immediately.”

Amelie rose her face, wet of tears, that she had buried in her hands. “But… What did he say?” she asked, confused.

“Nothing,” Celine answered quickly. “He is not yet well enough to think straight, he needs more time.”

Amelie's lower lip started trembling as fresh tears welled up. “I can't bear to leave him like this. He's hurting, and he won't even see me. What if... what if he never wants to see me again?”

Their thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sound of a horse’s neigh and clatter of hooves. A luxurious carriage pulled up right beside them. They immediately recognized the woman who peered out of the side window, despite the mourning veil covering her face.

“It’s Lady Belinda!” Amelie exclaimed. “She must have come to see Amir, too.”

Lady Belinda raised her slender hand, gesturing for them to join her. Celine helped Amelie out of their wagon, both women stepping over to Lady Belinda's carriage. The door swung open, revealing the dimly lit interior where Lady Belinda sat, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of sadness and determination.

“Lady Amelie, Celine,” Lady Belinda greeted them with a somber nod. “I can’t say I am surprised to see you here.”

“Lady Belinda, I am so sorry for the loss of your husband,” Amelie said. “And I feel awful for not having been able to visit you earlier to offer my condolences.”

“Don’t worry about it dear, it all happened so unexpectedly,” Belinda said softly. Then her brow furrowed, as she seemed to notice Amelie’s face swollen from crying. “But poor girl, you have been crying your eyes out! Is my brother in such a bad shape?”

At Belinda’s words, Amelie's composure crumbled. Tears started to stream down her cheeks as her body trembled with repressed emotion. Belinda reached out to console her.

“Dear child, do not worry about Amir. He will heal, as he always has. This is not the first time he has been injured in a tavern brawl,” she said in a slightly resentful tone.

“Belinda, that's not it,” Amelie choked. “He... he refused to see me. I don't understand why he would push me away like this.”

Amelie's tears turned into uncontrollable sobs as she poured out her heart about Amir's avoidance and the false rumor blaming her for being unfaithful. Celine wondered, if it was a good idea to tell the whole story so openly to Belinda. But after her recent encounter with Amir, she was grateful for this opportunity to be invisible to Belinda and Amelie for a while.

Belinda paid close attention to Amelie’s every word, her expression hardening as the story unfolded. “I will speak to Amir for you, Amelie – I have my ways to put some sense into him,” she spoke with a determined nod after Amelie had finished. “But understand this: someone has started this rumor on purpose. This person either hates you, envies you, or benefits from your misfortune. You would do wisely to find out, who your enemy is.”

Amelie's eyes widened. “Someone wants to hurt me this way? On purpose? How could anyone be so cruel?”

Belinda just sighed and smiled ruefully.

Celine realized that it started to be late. “Excuse me, lady Anroth”, she said. “We should really start to get going back home. Amelie has a reception to attend, and it is important that she makes an appearance.”

“Oh, who is the reception for?” Belinda inquired, hiding her curiosity poorly under the casual tone of voice.

“Lady Magdala Varga is coming to visit us,” Amelie replied, her voice still shaky from her earlier outburst.

Belinda's face darkened, and for a moment, her eyes seemed to lose their warmth entirely. “Magdala...” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. A shiver ran down Celine's spine as she watched the transformation in Lady Anroth's demeanor.

“Amelie, I must warn you about Magdala,” Belinda began, her voice heavy with concern. “She is a cunning and treacherous woman, and I fear that your family might fall prey to her schemes. You must not let your father place his trust in her.”

Amelie hesitated. “I will try to warn him, though I doubt he would listen to me,” she finally responded.

Celine, welcoming the distraction from Amelie’s heartache over Amir, offered an alternative. “Perhaps Master Willem would be more receptive to your warnings, my lady. As the heir to your father's title, it is in his best interest to be cautious.”

Belinda nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting a newfound respect for Celine. “Indeed, Amelie. You are fortunate to have such a resourceful servant by your side.” Celine bowed her head to show gratitude for the compliment, wondering if she had ever before felt so guilty.

As they prepared to depart, the heavy clouds above seemed to mirror the weight of the conversation that had taken place. Celine couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding that lingered in the air. They stepped out of Lady Belinda’s carriage and parted their ways. Lady Belinda headed towards the barracks to give a lecture to her brother, while Amelie and Celine climbed up into their wagon to prepare for an encounter of entirely different nature.

As the wagon creaked into motion, Celine cast one last glance at the fortress-like barracks. Her mind was churning with conflicting emotions: the disgust she felt towards Amir, the desire that burned despite herself, and the unwavering loyalty she held for Amelie.

“Are you quite all right, Celine?” Amelie asked, concern etched upon her delicate features. “You seem... troubled.”

“Just worried for you, my lady,” Celine replied, forcing a small smile. “I don’t know, if I can help you persuade Willem to beware of Lady Varga, or if I can do anything to make Amir see the truth. But I promise that I will do everything I can to uncover the source of the rumor that threatens your happiness.”

Amelie took Celine’s hand and held on tight.