CHAPTER TEN
IRIS
The tailors came before sunrise. Their voices filled the room before I had even spoken a word.
They carried rolls of fabric, silk and lace in shades of white and pink. The scent of lavender clung to their hands. One of them circled me with a measuring tape while the others whispered and wrote.
“Height, five foot two,” one said.
“Waist, small. Legs slender. The gown must be grand, something to remember.”
They spoke of beauty as if it were a duty. I stood still, listening, unsure what any of it meant.
My father had mentioned no celebration. No feast. No guests. Yet the tailors spoke as though everything had already been decided. I wanted to ask, but the words never came. Questions never pleased him.
When they finished, they bowed and promised to return soon. I nodded and smiled politely until they were gone.
Silence filled the room once more.
I turned toward the wardrobe. My healer’s robe lay folded neatly on the chair where I had left it. I let my hand rest on the fabric for a moment before turning away.
Instead, I chose a white, off–the–shoulder–dress. It was soft and light, the hem brushing just above my knees. I tied a white ribbon in my hair and let it fall straight down my back, pale against the fabric.
Raven had said we would be outside for most of the morning. That was reason enough.
I looked in the mirror one last time. The faint red mark on my cheek was nearly gone, but I could still feel it when I turned my head. I drew a slow breath and reached for the door.
I stepped into the corridor, the air cool and still. The torches along the walls burned low, and the faint echo of footsteps followed me as I made my way toward the healer’s wing.
Raven was already there, sorting jars and bundles of herbs into neat rows. The room smelled of mint and sage, sharp and clean. The moment she saw me, she grabbed a basket from the table and placed it in my hands.
“Perfect timing,” she said. “We’re going out today. The Northern farm needs a few supplies, so we’ll be collecting herbs on the way.”
I blinked, surprised. “Outside the castle?”
She nodded, tying her dark hair back. “Yes. We’ll be quick.”
“Won’t my father be angry?” I asked, lowering my voice. “You know how he feels about me leaving.”
Raven smiled faintly, the kind of smile that said she had already
thought it through. “I spoke to him this morning. He said it’s fine, as long as it’s for work.”
I sighed. “Of course he did.”
She arched a brow. “You sound disappointed.”
“The Northern farm is a long walk,” I said, adjusting the basket
in my hands.
“True,” she replied. “But at least you get to walk outside the castle walls today.”
I looked toward the window. The morning light spilled through the stone frame, soft and cold. It had been a day since I’d last left the castle, but it already felt too long.
A small smile found its way to my lips. “True, I suppose.”
“Then come on,” Raven said, already moving toward the door. “Before he changes his mind.”
We stepped out into the morning light. The courtyard was alive with sound. Servants hurried between the stables and the kitchens, guards called out orders, and the steady clang of metal rang through the air. The scent of baked bread drifted faintly on the breeze, warm and sweet.
Raven walked ahead, her basket swinging lightly at her side. I followed close behind, the sunlight catching on the pale stone walls around us. When we reached the gates, the guards bowed and stepped aside without question.
The moment we passed through, something inside me loosened.
The air beyond the walls felt different. Softer. It carried the scent of pine and wet grass, the promise of distance and quiet. The noise of the courtyard faded behind us until there was only the rustle of trees and the faint hum of the forest.
Birds called from the branches. The ground was still damp from the night’s rain, and my shoes sank slightly into the earth with each step. For the first time in weeks, I could breathe without feeling watched.
We walked for a long while in silence. The trees grew thicker as we went, their branches wearing together above us. Sunlight filtered through in small, scattered patches, lighting the moss that clung to the stones like velvet.
After a while, a different, familiar sound reached me.
Water.
I slowed, listening. The murmur grew clearer the farther we went, until through the brush I caught a glimpse of silver light
ahead.
The river.
It ran wide and calm, the surface bright with sunlight. The sound of water moving over stone was faint but clear, a sound I knew by heart. My chest tightened. I hadn’t seen this place in years, not since Father forbade me to leave the castle.
I stopped walking. Raven turned to look at me, puzzled.
The riverbank spread out before us, wildflowers scattered along
the edge. And there, hanging from the old oak, were the two swings. The ropes looked worn, the wood dark from rain, but they were still there.
“I used to come here all the time,” I said softly. “Before.”
Raven frowned slightly. “Before what?”
“Before he said I couldn’t.”
I set the basket down, my fingers brushing the handle. The air felt lighter here, familiar in a way nothing in the castle ever was.
Raven’s brow furrowed. “What are you doing?”
“Can we stay,” I asked, turning to her, “just for a few minutes?”
She looked at me for a moment, then sighed, though there was a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.
“Fine,” she said quietly. “A few minutes.”
I smiled and stepped toward the swings. The ropes were rough beneath my hands, the wood worn smooth from years of use. I brushed a few leaves from the seat before sitting down. The moment I pushed off the ground, the swing moved, slow at first, then higher, the wind lifting strands of my hair.
Raven laughed softly and took the one beside me. “You used to come here a lot, didn’t you?”
“All the time,” I said, my feet brushing through the grass. “If you swing far enough and jump at the wrong moment, you’ll fall right into the river.”
Raven’s eyes widened. “You tried that?”
“Once,” I said, smiling faintly. “It hurt.”
She burst out laughing, the sound soft and genuine. “Saints, you must have been fearless.”
“Or foolish,” I said, though my smile lingered. For a moment, I could almost see the child I used to be. Carefree. Unwatched. Alive.
The water shimmered below us, sunlight breaking over the surface in ripples of gold. The breeze carried the faint scent of wildflowers, the sound of leaves moving like whispers above our heads. For a moment, it almost felt like the world outside the castle didn’t exist.
Then the quiet shifted.
At first, it was only a faint rhythm beneath the wind. Then it grew stronger. The sound of hooves on packed earth, slow and steady.
Raven stopped swinging. “Do you hear that?”
I did. The sound pressed through the calm, coming closer. My hands tightened around the rope, my body going still.
The forest seemed to hold its breath. Even the river sounded distant now, buried beneath the rhythm of approaching horses. I felt my pulse rise, each beat sharp against my ribs.
Raven stood beside me, her voice low. “Travelers, maybe?”
“Maybe,” I said, though the word came out thin.
The sound grew louder, breaking through the trees. Sunlight
flashed against metal. I caught the shape of armor first, then the glint of reins, and finally the outlines of two riders moving through the shadows.
One of them rode a dark horse, tall and powerful. The rider sat straight, calm, his hand steady on the reins. Even from a distance, something about him made my breath catch. The sharp jaw. The dark hair. The quiet focus in his eyes.
William.
The second man beside him was blond, his armor bright in the light. He looked young, with an easy careless grin as he scanned the riverbank.
But William saw me first.
His horse slowed, then stopped completely. The movement was sudden enough that the other rider glanced over, confused.
The forest seemed to hush. Even the wind quieted. Only the river kept moving, a low and steady murmur beneath the stillness.
Raven straightened beside me, still holding the basket. I didn’t move. My fingers gripped the rope of the swing until it bit into my skin. The world around me felt too still, too fragile.
William’s gaze didn’t waver. His eyes moved across my face, searching, uncertain. I could see the moment recognition struck him. His expression shifted and his lips parted slightly.
“Elara?” he said at last, the name quiet, almost hesitant.
The sound of it caught in my chest. For a moment, I couldn’t
breathe. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The name hung in the air between us, soft and heavy, and all I could do was stare at him.
Raven’s eyes flicked toward me, then to him, her expression shifting with dawning realization. I felt the heat rise to my face, the same guilt that had haunted me since the lie first left my lips.
William shifted slightly in his saddle, his gaze steady. “What are you doing here?”
My mind raced for an answer. Of all the questions he could have asked, that one felt the hardest to meet. My throat felt tight, my thoughts stumbling over one another.
Instead, I heard myself say, “How’s your shoulder?”
He blinked, caught off guard, then gave a small nod. “It’s healing,” he said. “You did good work.” His voice softened, but the question returned, quieter this time. “What are you doing here?”
I forced myself to meet his eyes. “We’re headed to the northern farm,” I said. “To collect herbs.”
His brow lifted slightly. “Really?”
“Yes,” I said, holding the basket a little tighter. “It’s part of my duties.”
For a moment, he said nothing. Then a faint smile touched his lips. “Then we’re headed the same way. The captain sent us there this morning.”
“Oh,” I said, unsure of what else to say. My pulse felt loud in my ears.
He studied me quietly, his expression unreadable. The tension in the air felt fragile, like the space between one heartbeat and the next. Then, in that calm, he tilted his head slightly.
“Would you like a ride?”
The question caught me off guard. My fingers tightened around the handle of the basket. “That’s kind, but we’ll walk,” I said quickly. “It’s not too far.”
“It’s a long road,” he replied. “You’ll tire before you reach the fields.”
“We’ll manage,” I said, though my voice sounded less certain than I wanted it to.
He smiled, the kind that left me unsure whether he was teasing or serious. “At least let me help.”
Raven glanced at me, clearly amused. “I think it’s best we accept, Iri–” She caught herself. “Elara.”
My stomach twisted. “Fine,” I said quietly, trying not to sound as flustered as I felt.
William reached out a hand. His horse towered over me, muscles shifting beneath its dark coat. I hesitated, tilting my head back just to meet his eyes.
“Come on,” he said, voice calm but firm. “He won’t bite.”
Behind me, Raven stepped toward the blond knight’s horse. At
five foot eleven, she swung herself up with surprising ease, landing gracefully in the saddle behind him.
The knight turned his head, smiling wide. “Well, I do enjoy some company.”
Raven smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”
Their banter faded around me. I could feel William’s gaze still waiting. Slowly, I placed my hand in his. His grip was strong and warm, steady as he pulled me upward.
The ground slipped away beneath my feet. His arm came around my waist, guiding me to the saddle. The motion was smooth, but the warmth of him left my heart unsteady. His hand brushed briefly beneath my shoulder before he let go.
The horse shifted beneath us, muscles rippling under the dark coat. I gripped the edge of the saddle, trying to steady my breath.
“Hold tight,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
I nodded, unsure where to put my hands until instinct took over. My palms found his shoulders, solid and warm through the steel of his armor.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded again. “Yes.”
William gave the reins a light pull and the horse started forward. The motion was smooth at first, then steady as it found its rhythm along the dirt path. The forest stretched out ahead, filled with soft light and the hum of insects waking in the trees.
Behind us, Raven’s laughter broke the quiet. “This is honestly very kind of you gentlemen,” she said, her tone half teasing.
The blond knight turned his head slightly, flashing a grin. “Kindness is a knight’s duty.”
“Oh?” Raven replied. “And what’s your name, kind knight?”
“Eric,” he said, glancing back at her.
“Well, Eric,” she continued, the corners of her mouth lifting, “what are you two doing all the way out at the Northern farm?”
“Reports of unrest,” he said simply. “The captain sent us to look into it. Probably nothing, but we’ll see.”
I listened in silence, my hands still resting lightly on William’s shoulders. His armor started cooling beneath my palms. The forest air brushed against my skin, and the smell of pine and river water mixed together.
Eric turned his head again, this time looking straight at me. “You
know, Elara,” he said with a curious smile, “you look a lot like the princess.”
My stomach dropped. For a heartbeat, I forgot to breathe. The sound of the river faded, and the world narrowed to the rhythm of the horse beneath me. Raven’s head snapped toward me, her expression tight and alert.
William’s horse slowed a little, the reins tightening in his hand. The sound of hooves on the path dulled.
Eric was still watching me, amused, as if he’d said nothing out
of turn. “Same hair. Same eyes. It’s uncanny, really.”
Raven’s voice came sharp, lighter than it should have been. “Careful, Sir Eric. You’ll make her nervous.”
He laughed, easy and unbothered. “Didn’t mean offense. Just an observation.”
I forced a small smile, though my throat felt tight. My fingers curled against William’s armor until the edges pressed into my palms. “People say that sometimes,” I said softly. “It’s nothing.”
Eric chuckled under his breath, clearly not finished. “Dare I say,” he added, glancing back at me with a grin, “prettier than Her Highness?”
Raven’s eyes widened and she stared at me, waiting to see what I’d answer.
My heart stumbled against my ribs. The mention of the princess, of me, sent heat rushing up my neck. I could feel my pulse in my hands, in my throat, everywhere. I tried to laugh, but the sound came thin and uneven. “You shouldn’t say that,” I managed. “It isn’t proper.”
He only shrugged. “I call it as I see it.”
Before I could think of what to say, William’s voice came, calm but sharp enough to silence him. “That’s enough, Eric.”
The blond knight blinked and turned forward, muttering under his breath. The air felt heavy again, pressing close.
Then William looked back at me. “He’s not making you
uncomfortable, is he, Elara?”
The name hit harder than it should have. Elara. The lie I had told him so easily now sounded foreign, almost dangerous. My pulse still hadn’t slowed. I forced a small nod. “No,” I said quickly. “It’s fine.”
He studied me for a moment, then nodded once. “Good.”
The silence that followed felt softer, but it wasn’t quite peace. I realized my hands were still tense against his shoulders. Slowly, I let them loosen, and let my fingers slip back to rest against the leather straps of his armor.
I told myself to breathe. To calm down. He still believed the name. He still thought I was only a healer from the castle. It was fine. Everything was fine.
Raven glanced at me over her shoulder. Her look was quiet but knowing. She didn’t have to say anything.
I turned my eyes back to the path, letting the quiet fill the space between us. The lie still lingered, but for now, it was enough that he didn’t know.