CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
WILLIAM
I followed them from a short distance, close enough to guard, far enough not to intrude. It was my duty, after all. Nothing more.
At least, that was what I kept telling myself.
The gardens were enormous, lined with fountains and marble statues, the air heavy with the scent of roses. Rows of them stretched as far as I could see; pink, red, white and yellow. The sea shimmered faintly beyond the trees, and sunlight fell over the petals like glass.
The prince’s hand rested at her waist as they walked.
My jaw tightened before I even realized it. The motion was instinct, not choice. I looked away quickly, fixing my gaze on the path ahead. On the gravel underfoot. On the sound of the sea beyond the trees. Anything but them.
I told myself it didn’t matter. That she didn’t matter. That this was duty, nothing more. But the words rang hollow in my head, fragile and false.
She looked nervous. Her shoulders were too straight, her steps too careful.
Her fingers brushed the folds of her dress every few moments, like she was trying to steady herself.
The prince, by contrast, looked perfectly at ease, his stride confident, his voice smooth and steady as he spoke.
He carried himself like a man used to being obeyed.
They stopped near a tall hedge of roses.
“So, my lady,” he said lightly, “which of these do you fancy most?”
Her eyes drifted over the colors, quiet and thoughtful. “The white ones,” she said softly.
The prince smiled, pleased. He plucked a single rose from the bush, brushing the thorns away with careful fingers before tucking it gently into her hair.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
She smiled faintly. It was polite, careful.
My fists clenched before I could stop them. The reaction came
sudden, sharp, almost unreasonable. The kind of anger that didn’t have a name. It wasn’t jealousy. It couldn’t be. I had no right to that.
And yet… it burned.
It burned to see her like that, standing in the sunlight with his hand so close to her face, her eyes lowered in a way I’d never seen before. It burned to realize how easily he could touch her when I could not.
I forced my hands to my sides, drawing a slow breath until the tension dulled, but it didn’t fade completely. The ache stayed, low and constant.
They began walking again. The prince’s laughter rose softly over the wind as he spoke, his words easy and practiced, meant to charm. She answered quietly, her voice smaller than usual, the warmth I knew replaced with something more careful.
“How old are you, my lord?” she asked after a pause.
“Nineteen,” he said with a grin. “And you?”
“Seventeen.”
He nodded, pleased by her answer, as though it confirmed something he’d already decided. He kept talking, his voice smooth and steady. He was a year younger than me.
I walked behind them in silence, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword. Each step felt heavier than the last. I watched her from where I stood, how she nodded when he spoke, how she smiled just enough to seem polite, how her eyes fell to the ground whenever his gaze lingered too long.
To anyone else, they might have looked perfect. The prince and his soon-to-be bride, walking through a garden of roses.
But I knew the truth behind her smile.
And it hurt more than I cared to admit.
The distance between us felt both too far and too close. Every time she moved, every sound of her voice, I felt the ache of what I’d lost, and the weight of what I still couldn’t seem to let go.
A long while passed before the prince finally turned to her. His tone was gentle, courteous, every word measured like a man
who’d practiced charm until it felt like a habit.
“You should rest, my lady,” he said. “You have had a long journey. You must be tired.”
She nodded. “A little.”
He smiled, the picture of grace. “Then come. Let me show you to your bedchamber.”
They turned back toward the castle. I followed, as I always did: silent, a shadow where I was meant to be.
The air changed as we stepped into the marble corridors.
The scent of the garden faded, replaced by the cold hush of polished stone.
Silver and white stretched in every direction, the light from the tall windows falling across the floor like glass.
The candles flickered in crystal sconces, the reflections trembling against the
walls.
She walked ahead of me, the train of her gown brushing the floor, her movements light but unsteady. For a moment, I didn’t see a princess walking toward her gilded cage.
I saw her.
Elara, the girl by the river, the one who smiled too shyly when I teased her, the one who held my book like it was a secret worth keeping.
And I realized how much I hated that I still saw her that way.
Because I wasn’t supposed to.
Not anymore.
Once we reached her bedchamber, the prince opened them with a quiet smile. “I had the servants decorate it extra special for you,” he said.
The room inside shimmered in pink and silver.
A large bed stood in the center, draped with silk sheets and gauze curtains that caught the light.
A tall closet stood to the side, and beyond it, a smaller door led to a walk-in chamber joined with a private bathing room.
A vanity sat near the wall, covered with glass perfume bottles and a silver mirror.
There was even a small bookshelf beside the window, its shelves already filled.
The balcony doors were open, and the air that came through carried the scent of roses from the garden below. Beyond that, mountains rose in the distance, dark and sharp against the pale
sky.
I took my place near the balcony, watching the light move across the floor.
Prince Lorenzo turned back to her. “Rest here, my lady. The servants will come for you when it is time for dinner. You are free to explore the castle before then. Tomorrow, I will take you to the village and give you a proper tour of Valebran.”
Iris managed a small smile and nodded. “Thank you, my lord.”
His smile lingered a little too long before he inclined his head. “Until dinner, then.”
He stepped out and pulled the doors closed behind him. The
sound echoed softly through the chamber, leaving only the quiet of the wind and the distant waves.
Iris moved toward the bed and sat down. I stayed near the balcony, pretending to study the view, though my eyes weren’t on the sea. I could hear her, the quiet rustle of silk, the unsteady sigh that followed.
Something slipped from her hand and hit the floor. A silver pendant rolled toward me, catching the light. I bent down to pick it up at the same time she did. Our hands brushed.
Her skin was warm, softer than I remembered.
She drew back quickly, a quiet breath catching in her throat. I straightened and held out the pendant. “Here.”
She took it without meeting my eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Her head tilted slightly. “That’s the most you’ve said to me today.”
I let out a slow breath. “There hasn’t been much to say.”
She looked at me then, the faintest crease forming between her brows. “You could at least try not to sound like you don’t know me.”
“I’m doing my duty.”
Her voice softened, though it carried an edge. “Is that all I am to you now? Duty?”
I met her gaze for the first time in what felt like hours. “What
else should you be?”
The words landed sharper than I meant. Something flickered across her face. Hurt. I felt it like a blade twisting in my chest.
I shouldn’t have said it. I knew that. But it was the only truth I had left. Whatever I felt for her didn’t matter. She was the king’s daughter. And I was the knight meant to guard her, nothing more.
Still, when I looked at her standing there, the light catching in her hair, her eyes searching mine as if for something that had been lost, I didn’t see a princess at all.
I saw her again.
Elara.
The healer.
And it made everything harder.
She straightened, her eyes glinting with something between anger and sorrow. “I need a moment,” she said quietly. “Don’t follow me.”
Before I could speak, she turned and walked toward the door. The silk of her gown brushed softly against the floor, the sound fading as she slipped into the corridor.
When the door closed, the room fell silent again.
I stood where I was, staring at the empty space she’d left behind.
I told myself to move. To breathe. To remember what I was here for.
But all I could see was her face, all I could hear was her voice,
all I could feel was that brief touch of her hand against mine.
And for a moment, I forgot everything else.
Because no matter what name she bore, or what crown waited on her head, she would always be Elara to me.