CHAPTER FORTY ONE
IRIS
My stomach was tight with nerves. Lorenzo sat at the edge of my bed with his green eyes fixed on me as the tailors moved around, adjusting fabric and pins. I stood before the mirror in yet another gown. This one was white silk with heavy lace and soft pearls stitched along the hem.
Three days. Only three days left until the wedding. The thought alone made it hard to breathe.
“It’s alright,” Lorenzo said, his voice even. “Next.”
The tailors exchanged glances and hurried to change the gown. One after another, they brought out more. Five dresses later, I felt the weight of each one pressing down on me. On the eighth,
Lorenzo finally stood.
“That one,” he said, a faint smile touching his lips. “It’s perfect.”
I turned to the mirror. The gown shimmered under the light, its bodice trimmed with silver thread that caught every movement.
Layers of white and pale pink tulle flowed to the floor, soft and light, like drifting clouds.
Tiny jewels glimmered across the neckline, catching the light each time I moved.
Lorenzo stepped closer, nodding in approval. “It suits you,” he said, then turned to the tailors. “Now, go make her ball gown.”
They bowed quickly and left the room, the door closing behind
them.
I stood still, my reflection staring back at me. I didn’t feel beautiful. I felt trapped.
Lorenzo came up behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders. “You look beautiful,” he said quietly, his breath brushing the side of my neck.
I didn’t flinch, but I didn’t hide my discomfort either. “Please,” I said softly, keeping my eyes on the mirror. “Can you leave?”
His hands lingered for a moment longer before he stepped back. “As you wish,” he said. Then he turned and walked out, leaving me alone with the suffocating silence that followed.
—
By the time dinner ended, the hall was alive with talk of the wedding. Laughter and conversation filled every corner, words of alliance and prosperity passing from one noble to another. Servants hurried about, clearing plates, pouring wine, and polishing silver that already gleamed.
But I wasn’t listening. Not really.
All I could think about was him. William.
The sound of his voice, the steadiness of his arms around me, the warmth of his presence.
It had been a day since that night by the sea, and the memory of it had not faded.
If anything, it had only grown sharper. I ached to see him, to hear him speak my name again.
My heart fluttered at the thought, quick and restless,
and I didn’t know why it felt stronger now than it ever had before.
I left the dining hall quietly and made my way through the corridors, the soft echo of my footsteps keeping me company. When I entered my bedchamber, I half expected him to be there, standing by the balcony as he always did.
But he wasn’t.
The room was still, dimly lit by the candles near the vanity. I exhaled softly until my eyes caught something near the balcony doors.
Roses.
A trail of them, just like before. White and pink, scattered across the floor, glinting faintly in the candlelight.
Excitement filled me so quickly it almost felt like a rush of wind
through my chest. I reached for my shawl and wrapped it around my shoulders, then fastened my headband, my fingers trembling slightly. My heart was beating fast, almost too fast, as I pushed the balcony doors open.
The night air was cool and smelled faintly of roses.
I followed the trail down, carefully climbing over the stone rail and finding the same narrow ledge as before.
My slippers touched the grass softly when I reached the ground.
The roses continued, white and pink, winding through the garden toward the hidden door.
When I stepped through it, the world opened again to the sea.
The waves whispered faintly against the shore, and the moon painted everything silver.
Halfway down the path, I stopped. The air was cool and quiet save for the sound of the sea below and the faint rustle of the trees. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to calm the quick, uneven beat of my heart.
A thought came so suddenly it almost took my breath away.
William. The memory of his voice when he said he loved me returned so clearly that it felt like he was standing beside me.
He had said it with such honesty, as if he had been holding it in for far too long.
My heart began to race, not from the climb, but from what I was feeling.
He was the only one who had ever truly seen me. Not a crown, not a title, not a duty. Just me. He had cared for me long before he knew who I really was. And even after finding out, even after everything that should have pushed him away, he still looked at me like I was someone worth loving.
He had told me he loved me, yes, but it was not just in words. It was in the way he guarded me without being asked, the way his eyes softened when they met mine, the way he treated me like I mattered more than the world he served. He had shown me what love was long before I understood it.
And somewhere along the way, the care I had for him had changed. It had grown into something deeper, something I could feel in every part of me. I did not know what to call it yet, but I knew it was strong, and it was real.
I kept walking, my slippers brushing softly against the grass as the roses led me farther into the night. The air grew cooler, carrying the scent of salt and sea. The sound of the waves grew louder until it filled the silence around me. The trail ended where the trees met the shore, just as before.
And there he was.
William sat beneath the same tree, his cloak draped over his shoulders. One leg was bent, the other stretched out before him. His head rested slightly to the side, as if he had been listening to the water. The moonlight touched his face, soft and calm, and for a moment I could not move.
When he looked up, his eyes met mine. A faint smile appeared,
quiet and knowing. My breath caught, and something deep inside me stirred. My heart began to race, faster and faster, until I could hear it in my ears.
I really looked at him then. The man who had stood beside me through everything, who had loved me when he had every reason not to. The man who saw me for who I was, not what I was born to be.
And it hit me all at once, quiet but sure. I loved him too.
The truth settled in my chest, warm and steady, and I knew nothing could ever change it.