CHAPTER THIRTY THREE #2
WILLIAM
The sun slipped through the tall windows, painting the chamber in soft streaks of gold. I stood near the balcony door, my hands clasped behind my back, pretending to be focused on the view outside.
Servants moved quietly around the room, fastening the ties of the princess’s gown and adjusting folds of silk until it draped perfectly.
I told myself to keep my eyes forward to stay still, to be what I was; her guard.
Nothing more. But every time one of them brushed her hair over her shoulder or pinned the silver at her throat, my gaze betrayed me.
She looked radiant. And untouchable.
The gown was the color of Valebran’s sea, its silver thread catching the morning light. When she turned slightly, I caught the faint shimmer of pears along her sleeves. She didn’t even have to try. She was born to look like this. A princess. A prize. Someone who didn’t belong to men like me.
And yet the memory of her voice from last night echoed sharp in my head. You must leave.
The words burned deep. Now I watched another man’s arm settle around her waist, and the heat of it came roaring back.
Lorenzo leaned close, smiling at her reflection in the mirror.
“You look beautiful,” he said softly.
Something inside me twisted. My jaw locked until I could feel the ache in my teeth. The same woman who had once cried against my chest, who had looked at me with something real in her eyes, now stood perfectly still under his hand.
I turned my gaze away before it showed, before she could see what it did to me. But in the mirror, her eyes flicked toward mine for the briefest second. A heartbeat of silence. Then she looked away.
“Alright,” Lorenzo said, his tone bright. “Ready to see Valebran’s finest village?”
She nodded, a faint smile softening her face. “Yes, I think so.”
He offered her his arm, and she took it.
I quietly followed as they left the room. Every movement was a quiet war between duty and everything else I wasn’t supposed to feel.
The walk through the corridors was quiet save for the faint sound of their footsteps and the echo of laughter from servants preparing for the day. When we reached the courtyard, sunlight spilled across the stone, catching the silver of the carriages lined before the gates.
A few other guards joined us. Lorenzo took Iris’s hand, helping her up the step with a smile that made my jaw tighten one more. She placed her fingers in his, her voice soft as she thanked him.
The sound of it stirred something sharp in my chest.
I climbed in after the others, taking my place across from then. The door shut. The horses started forward, and the wheels creaked
against the cobblestones as the castle fell away behind us.
The carriage swayed with the rhythm of the road. Lorenzo’s arm slipped easily around her waist again, like it belonged there. His voice came low, smooth. “You are absolutely stunning,” he said. “And I will say it every time I see you.”
She giggled, light and quiet. The sound hit harder than it should have. “Thank you, Lorenzo.”
“Ah,” he said, smiling wider. “I love hearing you say my real name.”
She said it again, softer this time, and I felt it like a blow. Lorenzo. The word hung in the air, too intimate, too easy.
My hands curled into fists against my knees, the leather of my gloves creaking with the strain. My jaw clenched until it hurt. I stared at the floorboards, focusing on the faint scuffs in the wood, anything to keep from looking up. Every word they exchanged felt like salt rubbed into an open wound.
I reminded myself what I was. A knight. Her guard. Nothing more. But the reminder did little to dull the ache.
Silence stretched after that. The only sounds were the steady rhythm of the horses and the faint rustle of fabric as she leaned against him. I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, each second feeling
feeling longer than the last.
Then the carriage slowed. The noise of voices grew louder outside. The wheels rolled to a stop.
We had arrived.
The door opened with a faint creak, letting in the bright warmth of the sun and the smell of the sea mixed with earth. Lorenzo stepped out first, his boots hitting the ground with a soft thud before he turned and held out his hand.
“Careful, my lady,” he said with a smile. “You’ll love the village.”
She placed her hand in his and stepped down, her gown brushing lightly against the stone. The guards followed, one after another, their armor catching the light. I was the last to leave the carriage, my sword at my side, the weight of duty heavy on my shoulders.
The village stretched wide before us, more alive than I expected.
Narrow streets wound between small houses of pale stone and red-tiled roofs.
The air smelled faintly of baked bread and lavender.
Children ran along the road, laughing, and merchants stood at wooden stalls draped with fruit, flowers, and handwoven cloth.
When the people saw us, they stilled. Then, one by one, they bowed. The sound of it was soft, a rustle of movement and reverence.
Lorenzo held Iris’s hand, his smile easy and sure. “Come,”
he said.
She nodded and let him guide her through the street. The other guards followed close behind, forming a loose circle around them. I walked a few steps back, eyes shifting between the rooftops, the crowd, and the pair ahead.
Everywhere they passed, villagers knelt or offered flowers. The prince greeted them warmly, his hand never leaving hers. She smiled back at them, polite and kind, though even from a distance I could see the stiffness in her shoulders.
Lorenzo led her toward a stall where the scent of warm bread filled the air.
The baker bowed low, his face lighting up as the prince approached.
I stayed back, a few paces away, near another stall lined with woven baskets.
Leaning against it, I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to look anywhere but at them.
Lorenzo said something to the baker, and a moment later, the man handed him a small loaf still warm from the oven. Lorenzo tore off a piece, smiling as he turned to Iris. “Try this,” he said.
She hesitated, then leaned closer. He held the bread to her lips, and she took a small bite. Her smile was soft, her eyes lowering as she swallowed.
Something in me twisted at the sight. It was sharp and unexpected, like being struck from inside. For a second I didn’t even understand it. Then I did.
It ached.
I had known this would happen. I had known from the moment the king announced her betrothal that I would have to stand by and watch her become his.
But knowing it and seeing it were not the same.
Watching her laugh with him and seeing the way he looked at her like she was already his, made it real. Too real.
I thought I could finally bury what I felt for her. I thought I had cut it clean. I told myself she was the king’s daughter, a duty, nothing more. Not Elara. Not the girl who used to sit by the river and smile like she had no idea how dangerous it was to look at someone that way.
I told myself I was loyal to the king and would obey him, and wouldn’t think of her again.
But in that moment, standing there while he fed her bread and she smiled like she meant it, I realised how wrong I was. I realised how much it hurt to see her with another man. To know she would be married soon. To know I would still be here, guarding her, watching, pretending none of it mattered.
Lorenzo tore off another piece, brushed a crumb from her chin, and she laughed again.
My stomach sank. I clenched my fists at my sides and forced my gaze toward the street.
I tried to focus on anything else; the chatter of the villagers, the sound of hooves, the cries of vendors selling fruit.
But all I could hear was her voice. Her laugh. Her softness.
I swallowed hard, trying to steady the feeling that had built in
my chest. I had sworn to serve the king, to protect his daughter. But right then, I realised how little I cared for any of that. None of it mattered. Not when the only thing I wanted, the only thing I could not have, was standing a few feet away, smiling at someone else.