CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
IRIS
Two days had passed since that night, yet the memory of it still lingered in my mind. The tension, the truth, the way Raven’s voice broke when she cried. It haunted me quietly, sitting just behind every thought.
Now I sat at the long dining table, the silver plates reflecting the soft glow of the candles. The room was quieter than usual. Lorenzo sat across from me, focused on his meal, his expression calm but distant.
I cut a small piece of bread, trying to keep my tone light. “Will we be doing anything tomorrow?”
He looked up briefly, then back at his plate. “No. I will be helping my father with the wedding preparations.”
The word hit me harder than I expected. Wedding.
It was only a few days away now. Every corner of the castle buzzed with excitement and movement.
Servants hurried through the halls, florists carried armfuls of white lilies, and tailors rushed to finish my gown.
Everyone seemed thrilled. Everyone except me.
My chest tightened as I nodded slowly. “Of course.”
He gave no reply, only took another bite of his food. His voice,
his eyes, even his posture had grown colder in the past two days. Perhaps guilt, or duty, or something else entirely. I wasn’t sure.
But I didn’t mind it. His distance felt like a strange kind of comfort.
The meal passed quietly. My thoughts were louder than the silence between us. When I finally finished, I placed my fork down and stood. Lorenzo remained seated, his gaze fixed somewhere past me.
He didn’t offer to walk me to my chamber. Didn’t even look up.
I waited for a moment, expecting he might look up or at least say goodnight. But he didn’t. So I finally turned and walked out of the hall.
The corridors were quiet as I made my way back to my chamber. When I opened the door, the room felt colder than usual. Empty. William wasn’t there. The chair he slept on stood by the balcony, but there was no sign of him. I assumed he had been called to stand guard elsewhere.
I let out a slow breath and began to move toward my vanity. I was reaching for my brush when something on the floor caught my eye.
A single white rose.
It just lay inside the balcony door, the petals pale as snow beneath the dim light. My brows drew together as I stepped closer.
Then I saw another one. A pink one, lying a little farther ahead. And another white one beyond that. A trail.
My pulse quicked. I opened the balcony doors. The night air was
sharp and cool, brushing against my skin as I stepped outside. The roses continued, one white, one pink, one white again, forming a path across the stone floor over the balcony’s edge.
I leaned forward and looked down. The drop was steep, but below I could see the same pattern of roses leading toward the garden, winding down a narrow ledge that looked just stable enough to climb.
A chill ran down my spine.
Lorenzo. It had to be him. He was the only one who ever gave me white roses.
I hesitated, staring at the roses. Should I follow them? Every rule I had ever been taught said no. I wasn’t allowed to leave my chamber alone, especially not at night. The castle walls were supposed to be my safety.
But the trail looked so deliberate, so tempting, almost calling to me.
I glanced toward the door, half-expecting William to appear and stop me. He didn’t. The room was still. The only sound was the wind brushing through the balcony curtains.
I took a deep breath. Then another.
Before I could change my mind, I fastened two white clips on
either side of my hair to keep it from blowing into my face. I draped a soft pink shawl over my white gown and stepped out onto the balcony again. The air was cool against my skin, and the moonlight made the roses gleam like drops of pearl and blush scattered across stone.
Carefully, I climbed over the railing. My fingers gripped the carved edge as I lowered myself down to the ledge below. It was narrow, but solid enough beneath my slippers. I kept one hand on the stone as I followed the trail, each step slow, careful.
When I finally reached the ground, my breath came in short bursts. I glanced around. No guards in sight. The torches on the walls burned faintly in the distance, leaving most of the garden in shadow.
I gathered my shawl closer and followed the roses across the grass. The petals glowed faintly in the moonlight, leading me through rows of trimmed hedges and flowering trees. The farther I went, the quieter it became. The wind had died down, the air heavy and still.
At last, the roses led me to the farthest corner of the castle grounds, a place I had never been before. There were no guards here, no lights, only the high stone walls and the soft rustle of leaves.
And then I saw something.
A tall, muscular figure stood leaning against the wall as if he had
been waiting for me. His posture was calm, almost casual, but something about it made my pulse quicken. The moonlight caught
his outline, and for a moment, I couldn’t move.
The figure straightened, stepping out from the shadows. The moonlight caught his face, and my heart nearly dropped.
William.
He was leaning against the stone wall, his arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The look in his eyes was calm but unreadable, the kind that made my pulse trip over itself.
“William?” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” he said with something that sounded like amusement.
I blinked, glancing down at the trail of roses at my feet before looking back up at him. “You put those there?”
“I did.” His smirk deepened slightly. “I remember you said you liked the white ones. But I also saw the way you looked at the pink ones that day in the gardens.”
For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. The night air pressed cool against my skin, and my heart was still racing, caught between confusion and something else entirely.
“You remembered that?” I said softly.
He nodded once, his gaze steady on mine. “I remember a lot of things about you.”
My eyes drifted to his hands, and that was when I saw it. The
book. The same one we had read to each other by the riverbank.
My breath caught. Memories flooded in all at once. The sound of his voice. The warmth of sunlight through the trees. The
feeling of peace I hadn’t known in so long. My heart began to beat faster.
He lifted the book slightly, noticing my stare. “If you’d like to stay,” he said quietly, “we could read this together. Just like we did back in Elarion.”
My heart skipped. I looked up at him, and for a moment, everything else fell away. The castle, the crown, the worry. All that mattered was this. Him, me, and the book.
“I’d love to,” I said softly.
A faint smile curved his lips. He held out his hand. I hesitated, then took it. His hand was warm and steady.
“I know the perfect place for this,” he said.
I followed him to the far end of the courtyard, where the walls met the shadows. He stopped in front of a small wooden door built into the stone. When he pushed it open, a rush of cool night air brushed against my skin.
“Secret door,” he said with a small grin.
We stepped through, and I could barely breathe for a moment. Trees surrounded us, tall and silent, their leaves whispering in the breeze. We walked further until the sound of water reached my ears.
The trees thinned as we walked, and soon the sound of water grew louder. The air carried the smell of sea salt and wet stone.
When we stepped past the last line of trees, the sea stretched before us, calm and dark beneath the moonlight.
William walked ahead and sat down near one of the trees, the same way he used to by the riverbank. I stood there for a moment, just staring. The soft rush of waves, the shimmer of the moon on the water was all too familiar. For a heartbeat, I almost believed I was back home.
I took a slow breath and moved closer. Before I could sit, I felt his strong arms slip gently around my waist. The warmth of his touch was steadying and grounding.
“I thought you’d like this,” he said quietly, his voice near my ear. “It reminds you of home, doesn’t it? You loved the river..”
My chest ached at his words. It was true. I always had. But what I loved most was that he remembered.
I turned to face him fully, my voice soft. “Yes. It does remind me so much of home.”
He smiled, and something in that smile eased the tightness in my chest. He sank down near the tree and gently pulled me with him until I was seated on his lap. The warmth of him against the cool night air made me shiver, though not from the cold.
He reached into his dark cloak and pulled out the book. The worn leather cover caught the silver light of the moon. “Then let’s
read,” he said quietly.
I nodded, unable to stop the smile that rose to my lips. I leaned
closer, until my head rested against his chest. His tunic was soft beneath my fingers, and I could hear his heartbeat, steady at first, then quicker, stronger, as if it were trying to speak for him.
He rested his chin lightly on the top of my head and began to read. His voice was low, careful, the same voice that had once carried across the riverbank when everything between us was simple.
The words from the book were familiar, yet they felt different now. Maybe it was the way he said them, slower, gentler, like each one carried something unspoken.
Butterflies stirred in my stomach. I tried to ignore them, but the warmth of him behind me made it impossible. The rhythm of his voice, the sound of the sea, the faint brush of his breath near my ear, it all blurred together until I could not tell what was the story and what was real.
I tilted my head slightly and glanced up at him. The moonlight touched his face, softening it, and I felt my chest tighten in a way I had not before.
I could not explain what I was feeling. It was quiet but strong, settling deep in my chest and refusing to leave. Everything else faded until there was only his voice and the sound of the sea.
He kept reading, his tone calm and even. I watched him for a
moment, the way his lips moved, the way the light caught his face. Something inside me ached, and I looked away before he
could notice.
The air was cool, but I felt warm. Too warm. His arm brushed against mine as he turned a page, and I forgot to breathe.
For a while, neither of us spoke. Only the waves filled the silence.
I closed my eyes when he began to continue reading. And though I did not understand what it was, I knew I did not want it to end.