CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
IRIS
Servants moved quickly through my chamber, their hands a blur as they folded gowns and packed trunks. All I could hear was the sound of drawers closing, fabrics rustling, and hurried footsteps against the floor.
Raven entered through the open door, her dark hair tied back, her expression calm but tense. “Are you ready to go?” she asked.
I looked around at the half-empty room, the pieces of my life being taken away one by one. “No,” I said quietly. “I don’t think I ever will be.”
I turned toward the window. Below, the courtyard was alive with movement. Horses pawed at the dirt, their reins held tight by stable boys. Carriages lined the path, their wheels gleaming in the morning light. Too many carriages. Too many people preparing for something I never wanted.
When I looked back, Raven was standing by the table, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her satchel. Her face was pale, her jaw tight.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
She forced a small smile. “I’ll be fine.”
But I knew better. She wasn’t fine. She never was when Valebran was mentioned. It had been three years since she’d left
that place, three years since the man she loved had left her in pieces. I could still remember the way she looked that night; like someone who had forgotten what it meant to breathe.
“Don’t worry,” I said softly. “Everything will be alright.”
Raven looked up at me then, her eyes tired and sad. “I’m not so sure,” she murmured. “Come on. Your father is waiting.”
“Hold on.”
I crossed the room and reached for the book on my bedside table. The Song of the Willow Bride. The cover was still worn, the corners soft from my hands. I brushed the dust from it and held it close to my chest. “I’m ready now.”
Raven gave a small nod, gripping her satchel tighter. The servants followed behind us, carrying my trunks down the stairs.
When we stepped outside, the morning light was bright, almost cruel. My father was already seated inside his carriage, two of his guards standing close by. The rest of the servants and soldiers were loading supplies into the others.
Raven walked toward the servant’ carriage, her shoulders stiff as she climbed in. I turn to mine, a black one trimmed with silver.
I hesitated at the door of the carriage, my hand resting against the polished frame. The steps creaked softly beneath me as I climbed inside.
When I looked up, he was already there.
William sat across from where I was meant to sit, his posture
straight, his armor gleaming faintly beneath his black cloak. For a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe. His presence filled the space like it always did. Impossible to ignore.
Our eyes met. Something akin to relief flickered through me, before he looked away.
“Your father,” he said, his tone flat, “told me to ride with you. I’m to stay in your carriage.”
The words sank like stones in my stomach. Whatever light had risen in me vanished just as quickly. Of course my father would do that. He never did anything without reason.
I managed a small nod, though it felt like my throat had closed. “I see.”
The carriage jolted forward, the wheels creaking against the cobblestone. Neither of us spoke. The sound of hooves and wind filled the space between us, sharp and endless.
I kept my hands folded over the book in my lap, staring at the worn cover though my mind was far away. Every few seconds, I could feel his gaze flicker toward me, only to turn away again. The distance between us felt larger than the width of the carriage.
I thought of yesterday. The way his arms had felt around me. The warmth of his voice when he told me to let it out. For one brief moment, I had believed there was still something left between us. Maybe there still was.
“William,” I said quietly.
He didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened, his eyes fixed on the passing trees beyond the window.
“Are you still angry with me?”
He turned his head slowly, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know.”
The honesty cut deeper than anger would have. I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Your Majesty, we have arrived!”
The call rang out from the deck, clear above the waves. My heart lurched.
I leaned forward on the railing, my hands tightening around the wood as the ship began to slow.
The water near the shore was calmer, shallower, gleaming beneath the morning sun.
Ahead, the docks were lined with banners of blue and gold, fluttering in the wind.
A crowd had gathered; nobles, guards, servants. They were all waiting.
My breath came uneven. My fingers fidgeted with the lace at my wrist, the silk of my gown smooth beneath my shaking hands. I could feel the weight of the silver at my neck, too heavy now.
The ship bumped softly against the dock. The sound made my stomach twist.
“Your Highness,” one of the servants said again, bowing slightly, “it’s time.”
I nodded, though the movement felt stiff. My legs were weak as I turned toward the plank being lowered. My father was already
waiting, his posture straight, his expression calm. I envied it.
Behind me, I could sense William’s presence, silent but steady. Somehow that steadiness made it harder to breathe.
The plank touched the dock with a dull thud. The wind carried the faint scent of pine and salt.
I drew a breath, one that didn’t quite reach my chest, and stepped forward. My gown brushed the wood, soft against the sound of waves beneath. The crowd’s murmur grew louder.
“Smile,” my father said behind me.
I did as he asked, though it felt wrong. The smile didn’t reach my eyes. It was empty, like the painted faces of the women at court.
A man in a deep blue coat approached, bowing low until his forehead nearly touched his hand. “Your Graces,” he said, voice smooth and careful. “Welcome to Valebran. The royal family awaits you inside the castle.”
I nodded because it was expected. Words didn’t come.
We began to move, the wood of the dock giving way to pale stone.
The path was lined with trees, tall and green, their leaves moving softly in the wind.
The sea stretched close behind us, the sound of it steady and calm.
That was the only part I liked, that the sea was close to the castle.
It was the only thing that reminded me of home. Of the riverbank.
The guards followed at a steady pace, armor gleaming beneath
the sun. Behind them came the servants, their arms full of trunks and satchels. I turned my head, searching the crowd until I saw Raven. She walked beside the others, her expression tight but her
eyes found mine. For a moment, I felt less alone.
The castle gates loomed ahead, tall and carved from silver-gray stone. The walls were high and wide, climbing into the sky like a mountain itself. Banners of blue and silver hung from the towers, their edges fluttering in the breeze.
The guards stationed at the gate wore silver armor inlaid with the crest of Valebran. As we approached, they bowed deeply and pushed the gates open, the sound of metal grinding softly against stone.
“Chin up,” my father murmured. “And stomach in.”
My stomach was already flat, but I did it anyway. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. My hands trembled against the folds of my gown. I wanted to cry. I wanted to turn around, to run back to the ship, to anywhere that wasn’t here. But my feet kept moving.
The castle courtyard was wide and filled with sunlight.
Fountains lined the center, their water clear and cold, surrounded by beds of white roses.
Beyond it, the main doors stood open, revealing a long hall inside.
The floor was marble, polished to a shine, and the walls were covered in paintings of Valebran’s kings and queens.
The air smelled faintly of salt and flowers.
It was nothing like Elarion. Elarion was old stone and candlelight. This was darker, grander, colder. Every sound seemed
to echo and every step felt too loud.
At the end of the hall stood a pair of enormous doors, silver and tall enough to reach the carved ceiling. Two guards waited before them. They bowed, their hands pressing to their chests, then turned to open the doors.
The sound of them opening filled the air, slow and heavy, revealing the room beyond.
The throne room of Valebran.
And the people who would decide the rest of my life.