Page 25 of Is It Wrong to Escape My Fate? (Dealing With Fate #1)

Who would’ve thought that Vincent Lovell was acquainted with Prince Winston? I should’ve, because like Samuel Grimwald, they were sons of powerful nobles, and nobles liked to intermingle. As explained to me by these men and Mia.

I really needed her guidance now.

“Lord Vincent,” I bowed to him. I would’ve curtseyed but at some point in the past three seconds, Claude seized my legs in his arms.

“Please don’t call me ‘lord’, it doesn’t feel right,” Vincent sighed, plopping down on the couch that Claude had abandoned.

“Prince Winston,” the butler that accompanied me entered the room, followed by two maids. “I apologize for the interruption. I tried to stop Lord Lovell, but he insisted on rushing here. He claimed it was important.”

“It’s quite alright. In the meantime, please be more vigilant,” Winston smiled at them, in a clear form of dismissal. The staff bowed their heads and left, closing the door behind them.

I remembered Vincent acting as a witness to whatever transpired last Friday, and I hadn’t thanked him for that yet. Now was as good a time as any, so I bowed my head again. “Thank you for helping me with that incident the other day.”

He brushed his hand through his bright blue hair, looking away. “No need to thank me. I just happened to be there as the scene played out. Your bodyguards are pretty good. Keep them.” I didn’t want to know what my twins did to the perpetrators, and I was glad he didn’t clarify.

“Ah, so you’re the third-party witness to the bullshit,” Claude hummed, turning his head on my lap to face the other guy. “I thank you too, dude.”

Vincent raised his eyebrows. “What in the stars above are you doing to Bea?”

“We will never understand what’s going through that man’s head,” Winston answered instead. “What brings you over?”

Vincent looked concerned, as he brushed his hair again with his fingers. I realized that maybe it was a nervous tic. It was kind of adorable. “I’m not sure I’m at liberty to say.”

The Prince lifted his arms aloft. “This is the first Champion’s meeting. And as an ally of the Champions, you are free to share your news. Assuming it has anything to do with your assignment, of course.”

I had no idea what the hell he meant by that. It seemed Vincent didn’t too, judging from the confused look to the shocked face he had. “Bea’s a Champion?”

“No, I’m the Caregiver of the Champions. I’m a special thirteenth member,” I grimaced. He probably didn’t hear Winston’s announcement since he was busy witnessing the bullshit thing.

“Her job is to care for us,” Claude added, not that it clarified anything. Samuel only smirked as he sat comfortably on his couch, one foot on the other knee, sipping his wine. Where did that even come from?

“Vincent, the reason for your visit,” Winston steered back.

The man cleared his throat before sitting up straighter.

“Alright, since you insist it’s okay. I finally made it.

I’ve been having so many setbacks over the break with the potion you wanted me to invent.

Experiments here and there, recalculating formulas, figuring out the correct ingredients.

Last week I knew I was so close to making the recipe stable, there’s just a little missing I couldn’t figure out.

And then, due to a bout of inspiration, I made it!

Can you imagine it only needed a few more wisps of air magic mixed in to stabilize it?

The straightforward explanation of my computations helped me reassess it from a different point of view. It’s amazing!”

I blinked at him. “Are you talking about the explotion? Winston made you do it?” I made a pun in my head. Explosion potion. Explotion. Or a bomb.

Winston’s head whipped to me. “You knew about it?”

“First-years don’t have Alchemy in their curriculum,” Samuel added, eyes narrowing. “Unless you’re taking an advanced class? And what’s this about an explosion?”

Shaking my head, I could see how someone might misunderstand. “I encountered it by accident,” I answered Winston. “At this one greenhouse. I saw the potion brewing and the modification notes for a fire potion next to it. I read it and understood the explanations.

“And no, I don’t have Alchemy in my curriculum.

I just … the math came naturally to my head?

” I didn’t want to make something up like, “I read about Alchemy in the library”, because I didn’t know how guarded the knowledge was.

What if that sort of information wasn’t easily available, or could only be taught by a professor? My lie wouldn't survive scrutiny.

Vincent was beaming and vibrating with energy in his seat. “She’s a genius! It’s thanks to her that I even learned about the mistake. One look and she figured it all out. Now I have a safe, working prototype that needs to be tested.”

The rest of the guys now watched me with newfound awe and respect, while I sat here, a little helpless because of Claude clamping my legs, and so confused and embarrassed.

One, I wasn’t a genius. I might be good at math, because that was necessary for a programmer, but not enough to be called super smart.

Two, I didn’t remember pointing out any mistakes with his formula?

I even praised him for how detailed and easy to understand his explanation was.

Winston started chuckling, a hand covering his mouth. “That confirms it. You’re never allowed to leave us, princess. You’re too invaluable.”

Vincent visibly deflated at this. “She’s not? I was going to ask her if she can be my lab assistant. I think I need an outside perspective for my experiments. Tunnel vision kills my brain, and I lose sight of the goal sometimes.”

Winston lost the mirth in his voice, but his face held the same smile. “No.”

The Prince deciding for me again made me remember how I ended up in this room in the first place. I would’ve happily helped Vincent in his endeavors without knowing what it was for, just because I enjoyed watching him be passionate about it.

But at the same time, I was losing precious time for my own research.

“I only need an hour or two weekly, maybe,” Vincent bargained, glancing at me. “Like in the afternoon before dinner? Just for consultation and reading over my notes.”

“Yes. Tuesday afternoons,” I agreed before Winston could protest. If it were only for a couple of hours, then I could squeeze it in with my schedule. Vincent celebrated by pumping his fist and relaxing on the couch.

“Bea …” Winston looked at me wearily, while Samuel watched me our of the corner of his eye, pretending to refill his wineglass. “Vincent is not a Champion. While I did give him a mission for the betterment of the Kingdom, you’re our Caregiver.”

Now I was getting pissed off. “That doesn’t mean I can’t care about others. I care about a lot of people. My maid, my knights, my brother and his knight, my friends, and now unfortunately you hooligans. You don’t get to control that.”

“Did you hear that?” Claude yelled, dislodging himself from my legs and jumping up. “Bea admits she cares about me!”

“I heard,” Samuel validated Claude while I glared, and he responded with that annoying smirk.

“She cares about all of us,” Winston corrected. “But I do not prefer to share her with others outside of the Champions.”

Oh, no. He did not just say what I thought he said.

He did.

Enraged, I got up from my seat in a flash, my skirt billowing at the speed. “I don’t care if you’re the Crown Prince. You don’t get to decide that for me. I will share myself with anyone I want to, thank you very much.” I flipped my hair over my shoulder to keep it out of my face.

He was smiling. To the regular onlooker, they’d probably think my declaration didn’t affect him. They’d be wrong. I could sense his anger despite that gentle, angelic face. Boy, he clearly didn’t like having his authority challenged, huh?

Maybe this was the point where I’d get executed, and my whole family along with it. Sometimes I should really think first before opening my mouth and letting my emotions get the better of me.

I didn’t want to die. I never did. I wanted to escape. Getting executed by the Royal Crown wasn’t the way to go. Dying was never the way to go. Escaping my life was the only thing to do. Standing up for myself shouldn’t get me killed.

Why should deciding my destiny deserve death?

“Bea …” Vincent whispered, just as Samuel stood up too.

“Winston, you’re scaring her,” he growled. I wanted to laugh. I wasn’t scared . At least, not in the way they thought.

I feared for my pseudo-family who didn’t deserve to die. For the OG Bea whom I replaced without knowing what happened to her —

My —

Fate.

When the Prince lost his composure slightly, his genuine emotion slipping through the sheen of his purple eyes, I bolted from the room. I didn’t care if this made me a coward. If I could get a head start, there might still be a chance that I wouldn’t die today.

I tried to recall where the exit was, but I wasn’t even halfway there when Derrick , of all people, appeared from behind and ran along with me.

“What’s going on?” he gasped, looking behind us. “Where is this place?”

“How did you get here?” I winced at my sharp tone, my anger and fear still at the forefront of my mind.

“I felt your heightened senses and fear — I’ll explain more later!” He glanced back again. “Why are we running from the Hero?”

“Baby girl, don’t run away!” Claude shouted after us. Of course I should’ve expected at least one of them to chase me. “Win’s a huge, cocky, terrible idiot! We’ll make him apologize to you if it’s the last thing we do!”

Derrick gaped at me. “We’re running from the Crown Prince ?”

“It just happened,” I wheezed, making the turn to the main lobby. I finally found that gigantic front door! Freedom at my fingertips. “If I survive this, I’ll tell you why.”

That would be too easy, wouldn’t it?