CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
WILLIAM
She was standing right in front of me now, eyes bright with anger, chin tilted up to meet my gaze. The air between us felt thick, too heavy to breathe. I kept my arms crossed, staring down at her, my pulse steady but hard.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asked, her voice low but sharp.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. If I opened my mouth, I wasn’t sure what would come out. Something cruel, maybe. Something I would regret. I couldn’t tell her that every time I saw her with Lorenzo, it made something in me twist. That I hated it more than I had any right to.
Her tone rose. “Say something! You’ve been angry for so long, and I know it can’t just be because I lied to you about who I was.”
I drew a heavy breath through my nose. She was right, and I knew she was. She seemed to know a truth I didn’t want to face. Something burned in my chest, fierce and unwanted. I tried to keep it still, to swallow it down.
“Answer me!” she said again, louder this time. Her hand came up, her small fist ready to hit me in the chest or shove me. Anything to make me react.
But I moved before I could think. My hand caught her first
before she could land the strike. Her skin was warm beneath my fingers.
We both froze.
Her breath hitched, and my grip tightened slightly, not out of force but from the effort it took to keep control. Her eyes met mine, wide and defiant, and I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Let go!” she said in a trembling voice, not from fear, but anger. She pulled at her wrist, but I didn’t move.
“I said let go!” she shouted again, louder this time.
The sound of her voice cracked something inside me. I could see the anger in her eyes, the frustration, but behind it there was something else. Hurt. The same hurt I had been trying to bury under duty and silence. I had been holding it all in for too long, and now I couldn’t hold it anymore.
“Do you want to know why?” The words came out harsh and low.
She stilled. “Why what?”
“Why I look at you like that. Why I can’t stand seeing you with him.”
Her lips parted slightly, but before she could speak, I went on.
“Because I hate every part of it,” I said, my voice rough with the weight of it.
“I hate the way he looks at you like you belong to him. I hate the way he smiles at you, the way he touches you, and how you let him. I hate that you laugh with him the same way you used to laugh with me. Every time I see you beside him, it feels like something inside me is tearing apart.”
Her eyes widened. She didn’t speak, just stood there frozen, her breath uneven.
“It feels like hell,” I said quietly. “Like living through punishment every time I see his hand on you, every time he calls you his.”
For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, her voice came out
barely above a whisper. “But you hated me for lying to you. You said I was nothing but a duty.”
The words hit hard. I looked away, jaw tight, every muscle in me strained to keep steady.
When I didn’t answer, she said, “If you’re so angry at me, and if I’m nothing but a duty to you, then why do you care?”
That question struck deeper than anything else.
Because I did care. More than I had any right to. More than I could ever admit.
. I could feel something burning deep in my chest, something that had been building for too long, pressing against the walls I had tried to keep up. I wanted to stop it. I wanted to swallow it down like I always did, but it was too much. I couldn’t.
“Because–” The words tore out of me before I could think. I stopped, breathing hard, my pulse loud in my ears.
She took a small step closer, eyes fierce, demanding an answer. “Because what, William?”
It snapped. The last of the restraint I had been holding broke apart.
“Because I’m in love with you,” I said.
The words came out low, ragged, and absolute. I had never spoken anything truer in my life.
She froze. Her lips parted slightly, her eyes wide, breath caught somewhere in her throat.
I took a step back, running a hand through my hair as if that could undo what I’d said.
“I tried not to,” I said quietly, my voice strained.
“God knows I tried. Especially after I found out who you were. You’re the king’s daughter, a princess, and I’m just a knight.
It should have ended right there. But it didn’t. ”
Her eyes glistened, her voice barely a whisper. “You… you love me?”
I didn’t answer. I just looked at her, unable to lie anymore. The truth was too heavy to swallow back down.
She took a small step forward, her voice shaking. “Since when?”
The question cut through the air, pulling something deeper out of me. I looked at her, really looked, and the memories came like a tide I couldn’t stop.
“Since the first day,” I said finally. “Since you came into my home pretending to be a healer. You smiled at me like you weren’t afraid, like I was more than a soon-to-be-knight.
And at the riverbank, you read by the river, you asked about my past, you laughed when I said something foolish.
I didn’t know your true name, but I knew I was done for. ”
She swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she clutched her skirts.
I stepped closer, my voice lower now, steadier. “And when I found out the truth, when I realised who you really were, I told myself to stop. To hate you. But I couldn’t. I still saw Elara. The girl who sat by the river, the one who looked at me like I mattered.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. She didn’t try to hide them.
For a moment, I just watched her. The way her breath caught, the way her shoulders trembled. Something inside me cracked open.
“I don’t know if you love me back,” I said, “but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend I’ve forgotten you. I can’t act like you don’t matter to me, because you do. More than I ever thought anyone could.”
Her breath caught, and she shook her head as her hands tightened at her side. “But you look at me like I’m the one to blame,” she said, trembling. “Like I wanted this marriage. I never did. And you know it. You held me when I cried about it back in Elarion. You know I’m being forced into it.”
I stared at her, my chest tightening. The room felt smaller. “It was the way you started getting closer to him,” I said quietly. “Smiling at him. Letting him touch you. Every time I saw it, it felt like a knife.”
Her lips trembled. “At the start I did it because I had no other choice. We’re getting married either way. But then I did it–” she paused softly, “to make you jealous.”
A quiet, sudden laugh escaped me. “Well, it worked.”
That pulled a small laugh from her too, unsteady but real. It
broke something heavy between us. I found myself smiling, just a little.
“Come here,” I said.
She hesitated for only a heartbeat before stepping closer.
I wrapped my arms around her, drawing her against me.
She felt small and trembling in my hold, her cheek warm against my chest. For a long time, neither of us said anything.
The only sound was her uneven breathing and the steady beat of my heart.
“I’m sorry,” I said finally. “For everything I said. When I called you a duty, I didn’t mean it. I was angry and feared the king a little. I wanted to push you away, but now I don’t. I don’t care about any of that.”
Her hands gripped my arms tighter. “I’m sorry too,” she whispered. “For lying about who I was. If I hadn’t, maybe none of this would have happened.”
I shook my head. “Don’t say that. I would have fallen for you no matter what name you gave me.”
She looked up then, her blue eyes soft and wet. “You forgive me?”
“I already have,” I said quietly. “I forgive you, Iris.”
Her lips parted slightly at the sound of her real name. “It feels good to hear you say it,” she whispered. “Not ‘your highness.’ Just Iris.”
I brushed a thumb across her cheek, wiping a tear that had
escaped. “Then Iris it is,” I said.
That drew another smile from her. She leaned into me, her forehead resting lightly against my chest. I held her tighter, my arms settling around her as if they belonged there. Which she did.
“It feels so good to finally be able to hold you again,” I said softly.
She tilted her head slightly, her voice muffled against me. “It feels so good that you’re not avoiding me anymore.”
I smiled faintly. “Then let’s keep it that way.”
Her quiet laugh filled the room, soft and tired. “Agreed,” she said.
A yawn escaped her, quiet and unguarded.
I loosened my hold and stepped back slightly.
“You should probably get some rest,” I said.
The words felt heavy. I didn’t want the moment to end.
I wanted to stay here, to hold her, to tell her everything she meant to me, to ask if she felt the same.
To ask if she loved me too. But that could wait. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
She nodded, her eyelids already drooping. “I should,” she murmured, moving to sit on the edge of her bed.
I straightened, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword.
“You should rest too,” she said, glancing up at me.
“There’s no resting when it comes to your safety,” I replied.
She gave a tired smile. “But you’ve been awake for so long.”
She was right. I could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing at
the edges of my thoughts, though years of training had taught me to stay awake through worse. Still, I only said, “I’ll rest when you’ve fallen asleep.”
Her eyes softened. “You promise?”
“I do.”
She smiled again, faintly this time, and lay back against the pillows. The covers rose to her chin as her breathing slowed.
“Goodnight,” she whispered.
I watched her for a moment longer before answering quietly, “Goodnight.”
Then I took my place by the balcony, sword still at my side, and listened to the sound of her breathing until the room fell silent.