A Kingdom’s Heart

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

IRIS

I sat at the long table, my hands folded neatly in my lap. The hall shimmered beneath the glow of silver chandeliers, the air filled with laughter and clinking glasses. Across the table, King Phelipe rose from his seat, his goblet raised high.

“My friends,” he said, his voice carrying easily through the room, “it brings me great joy to announce that the wedding between our beloved Prince Lorenzo and Princess Iris of Elarion will take place in less than seven days.”

A wave of cheers followed, loud and bright against the marble walls. Laughter filled the air. Goblets clinked. Music stirred in the corners.

I tried to smile. I tried to look every bit the happy bride they all expected. But my chest tightened instead.

Seven days. Only seven days until everything changed.

Lorenzo turned toward me, his smile wide and polished. He slipped an arm lightly around my shoulders, the movement practiced, effortless. The guests cheered louder at the sight. The sound pressed against me until I could hardly breathe.

I kept my head lifted, my face calm, my hands steady in my lap. But inside, everything trembled. His touch felt foreign, too gentle, too sure. My stomach knotted.

Across the room, beyond the flicker of candlelight, my eyes found him.

William.

He stood among the guards, helm tucked beneath his arm, posture straight, gaze fixed ahead. His expression didn’t waver, didn’t shift. He could have been carved from stone.

Still, the sight of him made my breath catch. For one fleeting moment, I wanted him to look at me. To see me. To see her , the girl from the river, the one who had once made him smile.

But he didn’t.

He never looked my way.

A duty . The words echoed in my mind, sharp and cold.

Fine then. I would play my part.

I turned toward Lorenzo and leaned closer until my head rested lightly against his shoulder. The movement was small but deliberate. He smiled, clearly pleased, his hand tightening gently at my waist. The crowd clapped again, delighted.

The noise blurred around me. The music, the voices, the laughter. It all melted into a dull hum.

When the servants brought out another round of food, I focused on the simplest thing I could. The tray nearest to me gleamed with sugared figs, their syrup catching the light.

“They look good,” I said softly, because I needed to say something. Anything.

Lorenzo followed my gaze, amusement tugging at his lips. “Do they now?”

“Yes,” I said. My voice came out steadier than I felt. “They do.”

He picked one up delicately and held it toward me. “Then try one, my lady.”

For a moment, I hesitated. Then, because there was no choice, I leaned forward.

The fig was sweet. Too sweet. The kind of sweetness that made it hard to swallow.

I smiled through it anyway. “It’s lovely,” I murmured.

He laughed softly, satisfied. “Good.”

I glanced over my shoulder, trying to catch his eyes. William, still standing among the guards, didn’t move his gaze. Not once did he look at me. That brought a flicker of irritation through me.

The feast carried on long after the announcement. The clinking of goblets, the rustle of silk, and the constant hum of conversation filled the air. Every sound pressed against my skull until it all began to blur.

Lorenzo spoke easily beside me; confident, composed, perfectly trained in charm.

He asked if the journey had been long, if I liked the palace, if I preferred the gardens of Elarion to those of Valebran.

I answered each question softly, careful not to reveal how hollow the words felt leaving my lips.

He laughed often. I did not.

When the final plates were cleared and the guests began to rise, King Phelipe called the attendants forward to escort us to our chambers. Lorenzo offered his arm again, his smile unfaltering.

“Come, my lady,” he said. “You must be tired. The night’s grown long.”

I placed a hand lightly on his sleeve. “A little.”

As we walked through the corridor, the sound of our footsteps echoed faintly against the stone. The hall was lit by tall, golden sconces that threw long shadows across the floor. William followed several paces behind, quiet as ever, the faint jingle of his scabbard the only sign of his presence.

Lorenzo glanced sideways at me, his voice smooth and low. “My chamber is only a door away from yours,” he said. “Perhaps we should go there first. There’s something I’d like to show you.”

The words caught in my throat. I managed a small, careful smile. “Of course.”

Lorenzo’s chamber was grand yet quiet. The walls were paneled in deep blue silk, trimmed with silver embroidery that shimmered faintly in the candlelight.

A tall window overlooked the sea, its glass reflecting the pale moonlight that bled through the curtains.

The scent of salt and burning wax filled the air.

A wide bed stood near the center of the room, its frame carved from dark wood. The sheets were soft and dark, the kind that seemed almost too fine to touch.

He closed the door behind us. The faint click of the latch made my chest tighten.

“Please,” he said gently, motioning to the bed. “Sit.”

I hesitated for a moment before obeying. The mattress sank slightly beneath my weight, cool and smooth beneath my palms.

He sat beside me. Not close, but near enough that I could feel the warmth of him. For a long moment, he said nothing. The silence between us was calm but uncertain, and I could hear the distant hum of the sea outside.

When I finally looked at him, he was already watching me. His green eyes caught the candlelight, soft and curious rather than commanding.

Days ago, I wanted nothing to do with him. I still didn’t. Not truly.

But he was kind. Gentle, even. There was no cruelty in his gaze, no arrogance in his smile. Only patience.

I could not change what was coming. The marriage would happen whether I wanted it or not. The least I could do was try to find something to hold on to.

He was handsome. That much was easy to see. His features were sharp, but not harsh. His voice was smooth, his posture relaxed, as though nothing in the world could unsettle him.

Perhaps I could learn to like him.

I drew in a quiet breath and forced myself to speak. “Your

chambers are beautiful,” I said softly. “The colors suit you.”

His lips curved into a small smile. “You think so?”

I nodded. “Blue and silver. Calm, but strong. Like the night sky.”

He studied me for a moment before speaking again. “I am glad you like it. I had them prepared for when you arrived. I wanted you to feel at home.”

The words surprised me. “You did that for me?”

“Of course,” he said. “You will be my wife soon. It is only right that this place feels like yours too.”

I looked down at my hands, unsure what to say. It felt strange to hear the word wife spoken aloud. Strange, but real.

When I looked up again, he was still watching me, his expression gentle. “You do not need to be afraid,” he said quietly. “I know this is new. You do not have to like me yet.”

My chest tightened at that. “Yet?”

He smiled faintly. “I only ask for time.”

Something in his words made my shoulders ease, just a little. Not much, but enough to breathe without feeling like my chest might crack.

Maybe he was right. Maybe time would help.

Not yet. But soon. I had to like him. I had to know him. In less than a week, he would be my husband. That was reason enough to try.

I lifted my gaze to his again, trying to steady my voice. “You

said there was something you wanted to show me?”

He nodded, rising from the bed. “Yes. This.”

He crossed the room to a polished wardrobe near the window

and opened it. Candlelight glinted off silk as he drew something out and folded it carefully, the fabric smooth and dark. He turned and held it toward me.

It was a gown.

The color was the same as his chamber: navy blue with silver thread winding through the bodice and sleeves like fine vines. Tiny pearls caught the light, faint as stars.

I stood slowly, reaching out to touch it. The fabric was cool beneath my fingers. “It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

He smiled, clearly pleased. “I want you to wear it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m taking you to one of our finest villages. It sits along the coast, not far from here. I want you to see Valebran for what it truly is. Its people, its streets, its food.” His eyes warmed slightly. “You will try our best breads, our pastries. I think you’ll like them.”

I glanced at the gown again. “And this is for that?”

“It is,” he said. “The colors are the royal shades of Valebran. I thought they would suit you.”

The candlelight caught the silver thread as I turned the fabric in my hands. It shimmered softly, almost alive in the light.

“I’ll wear it,” I said at last.

His smile deepened, quiet but genuine. “Good.”

He placed the gown carefully on the chair beside the bed,

smoothing the fabric as if it were something precious. Then he turned back to me and extended his arm.

“Come,” he said softly. “Let me take you to your bedchamber.”

I hesitated, just for a breath, before resting my hand lightly on his sleeve. His arm was firm beneath the fabric, his movements unhurried as he led me toward the door.

The corridor outside was dim and quiet. Only the faint sound of the sea drifted through the open arches, carrying the cool scent of salt and stone. We walked in silence, our footsteps echoing against the marble floor.

When we reached the next door, Lorenzo pushed it open for me, his hand resting briefly on the frame as he stepped aside.

The moment I crossed the threshold, my mood shifted. The room was softly lit by the glow of lanterns near the balcony, and standing just beyond them was William. His armor gleamed faintly in the light, his helm hiding his face, his posture straight and still.

My breath caught without reason. I forced my gaze away.

Lorenzo paused at the doorway, his eyes tracing the direction of mine. For a moment, he said nothing. The quiet stretched thin between us. Then his voice came lower, softer than before.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “I could look at you all day.”

The words settled over me like warmth I didn’t ask for. My throat went dry. “Thank you, my lord.”

I hesitated before nodding, trying to calm the quick flutter in my chest. “Of course, Lorenzo.”

Something in his expression eased at that. The distance between us seemed smaller now, the candlelight touching the sharp lines of his face, softening them.

“May I stay with you for a while?” he asked quietly.

I wasn’t sure how to answer, so I simply nodded.

His smile deepened. He reached into the pocket of his coat and drew out a small white rose. Its petals looked fresh, perfect, as though it had just been plucked from the garden.

“I remember how you said these were your favorite,” he said.

He stepped closer, his movements smooth and sure. My breath caught as he lifted his hand and tucked the flower just behind my ear, his fingers brushing against my skin.

I stood still, not knowing what to say.

Lorenzo smiled again, satisfied. “It suits you,” he said softly.

I managed another small smile, though my heart was pounding too hard for it to feel real.

“Oh I can’t wait for our wedding,” said Lorenzo. “I already know we’ll make the perfect royal couple.”

I forced another small smile, though my chest felt tight. “Yes, of

course we will.”

His dimples deepened, pleased with the answer. “That’s what I

like to hear.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, then reached for my hand.

Before I could think, he gave a gentle tug, pulling me toward him until I was sitting on his lap.

His arm slid around my waist, his breath brushing close to my ear.

My stomach did something at that. I wasn’t sure if it knotted or if it were butterflies, but either way, it was enough for me to feel the steady rise of his chest. His arms tightened faintly around my waist, making it a little difficult to breathe.

“You’ll make a fine queen,” he murmured, his tone soft, assured.

I smiled, uncertain how to respond. My fingers tightened in my lap, and I tried to ignore the strange rush of warmth climbing up my throat.

Then—

“Her Highness is to be in slumber before midnight.”

The voice cut through the quiet like a blade. My breath caught before I even turned.

Lorenzo’s hand went still against my waist, the warmth of it replaced by sudden stiffness. We both turned toward the sound.

William stood near the balcony, with his helm now tucked under one arm. His expression was calm, but there was something dangerous beneath it, something that made the air heavier.

“The king’s orders,” he said

Lorenzo’s brows lifted slightly. “Oh?” His voice carried a note of amusement. “And why was I not informed of this?”

William didn’t blink. “Because I was informed only moments ago,” he replied. “His Majesty wished it to be enforced at once.”

My pulse quickened, though I didn’t know why. A part of me knew William was lying. There was no such order, there couldn’t be. But he stood there with a quiet conviction that almost made me believe him.

Almost.

I clenched my jaw, heat crawling up my neck. What was he doing? Trying to humiliate me? Or worse, trying to remind me of the control he still held, even after everything? The thought made my chest burn.

Lorenzo’s smile returned, smaller now, sharper. “Surely,” his fingers tightened faintly at my side, “the king would not mind his daughter’s future husband spending a few moments after midnight with her.”

“He will,” William said simply.

The words landed heavy, final.

The room seemed to shrink around us. I could feel the tension rolling off them bode: Lorenzo’s pride, William’s restraint, the sharp friction of two men circling a line neither dared cross.

And me, caught between them, my heart beating too fast, my

throat dry with irritation. I could feel William’s eyes on me, steady and unreadable, and that only made it worse.

Something twisted in me. Anger. Embarrassment. Confusion. I

didn’t know which one was stronger.

I lifted my chin, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “Actually,” I said, forcing my voice steady, “he won’t.”

That silenced William. For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then his jaw flexed, his voice low but firm. “King Henrik expects all attending to be well rested for tomorrow.”

I turned to him slowly, irritation flaring sharp and fast. I’d had enough of his coldness. “Oh?” My tone sharpened. “And what, exactly, happens tomorrow?”

William’s eyes flicked toward me. “Something important,” he said. “So the prince must leave.”

Lorenzo gave a short laugh under his breath, his fingers still resting lightly at my side. “Is that so?”

But before either of them could say another word, I stood. My voice was calm, though the air felt like it might break. “No,” I said. “You must leave.”

For a long moment, no one moved.

The silence pressed heavy between us, thick enough to feel. The wind outside brushed faintly against the balcony curtains, but even that seemed distant.

William didn’t speak. He only stood there, his jaw tight, his fists

curling once at his sides. The faint blaze in his eyes said everything his voice didn’t.

For some reason, that look brought a flicker of satisfaction to my

chest. He’d lied. There was nothing important beyond a simple visit to a village. He made it up, and we both knew it.

I turned toward him fully, my voice steady now, deliberate. “Well?” I said. “Get out, knight . My fiancé and I are trying to have a moment.”

Lorenzo’s smirk returned, slow and sure. “You heard her,” he said, his tone edged with pride. “Out.”

William’s gaze lingered on me for a long, burning moment. The air between us felt heavy, too still, like the world itself was holding its breath.

His fists stayed tight at his sides, knuckles pale against the light. For a second, he looked seconds away from punching the wall behind him, from saying something he’d regret. But he didn’t.

Instead, he drew in a slow, loud, breath. His eyes met mine one more time, sharp and unreadable.

“As you wish, Your Highnesses,” he said quietly.

The words came out tight, controlled, but there was something in them that felt like the crack of a blade.

Then he turned. The door closed behind him with a dull, final sound, leaving the air thick with everything he hadn’t said.