The Past 7:
"Your Highness, I've seen to the increased security measures surrounding Miss Amelie," reported Gabriel's beta, Soren. "However, what has prompted this sudden escalation? As far as my intelligence shows, there is no immediate, looming threat to her safety."
Prince Gabriel slowly turned from the expansive palace window, his hands locked formally behind his back. "The witches, Soren," he stated. "They reside under the same roof as my bride-to-be. I do not trust them, nor their proximity to something I value so dearly."
Soren gave a respectful nod. "Understood, Your Highness. Precaution is the better part of wisdom when dealing with such unpredictable beings."
A softer, contemplative look then crossed the Prince's face. "You should have seen her, Soren. In that gown... the wedding dress," Gabriel confided, a soft smile touching his lips. "She was utterly magnificent. I find myself growing impatient to claim her, to finally call her mine."
