CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
IRIS
I found him in one of the council rooms, speaking with King Felipe. The air was heavy with talk of alliances and trade routes, their voices low but firm. I hesitated in the doorway, then stepped inside and curtsied to both of them.
“Your Majesties,” I said softly.
My father turned first, his brows lifting. “What is it, Iris?”
“I need a word,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
He sighed, glancing at Felipe before answering. “I’m busy right now.”
“Please,” I said. “It will be quick.”
“Iris…” His tone held warning, but before he could finish, King Felipe raised a hand.
“That’s fine,” Felipe said kindly. “I’ll be waiting outside.”
He stood, the gold of his cloak brushing the floor as he walked out. Two guards followed him, the door closing behind them with a dull thud that echoed through the chamber.
My father turned back to me, his expression unreadable. “Make this quick,” he said.
I drew a slow breath and stepped closer, my hands tightening around the folds of my gown. My heart was pounding, but I forced the words out anyway. “I don’t want to marry him, Father.”
“So you’ve said,” my father replied, his tone flat, almost bored. “You said the same thing back in Elarion.”
“Yes,” I said quickly. “And I meant it then, and I mean it now. After spending these days with him, I’ve realised that I not only don’t want to marry him, but I can’t.”
He turned away, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve as though my words were nothing but noise. “You can leave now.”
I didn’t move. My throat tightened, but I forced myself to step closer. “Father, please. I can’t marry him.”
His eyes flicked to mine, cool and tired. “Enough, Iris.”
“No, listen to me!” I said, the words spilling before I could stop them. “He gave me a drink this morning. He said it would help me bear him a son. He expects me to carry his child already. Father, I’m too young—”
His head snapped toward me, his gaze suddenly sharp. “You ungrateful one,” he hissed. “Your mother was sixteen when she had you. Do not speak to me of ‘too young.’”
The words cut deep. I flinched, but I stood my ground. “This isn’t about age,” I whispered. “It’s about choice.”
“Your only choice,” my father said, his voice cold and sharp, “should be worrying about the future of your people. If this marriage does not continue, if you fail to do your part, our people will suffer because of our enemies.” His tone hardened, rising with every word. “Because of you.”
I stood frozen, my chest tight. His words struck harder than I wanted them to. “Then how am I supposed to live my life?” I asked, my voice shaking. “If I marry someone I don’t love, how am I supposed to live a happy life?”
He didn’t answer. He just stared, eyes full of disappointment, as if happiness were something I should have never dared to ask for.
For a heartbeat, I thought about telling him.
About William. About the way my heart beat faster every time I saw him, the way he looked at me like I was more than a crown.
Maybe if Father knew, maybe if he heard me say I loved someone else, he would understand.
But the look in his eyes stopped me. I knew he wouldn’t.
To him, love was a luxury, not something worth risking kingdoms over.
He stood suddenly, the sound of his chair scraping across the stone echoing around us.
His palm slammed against the wall, and the sound made me jump.
“Your mother was just like you before she married me,” he said, his voice rough with anger.
“She said she couldn’t marry me because she didn’t love me, because she didn’t know me. But she married me anyway.”
“That’s because she was forced—”
“No!” His voice cracked through the air like lightning. “Because she cared about her people. Because she knew her duty came before her heart. And guess what, Iris? After our marriage, she learned to love me. And I loved her deeply back. Just like you will
will with Lorenzo.”
I stared at him, the words sinking like stones in my stomach. Learned to love . As if love could be taught, as if it could be forced. He was wrong. I knew it in every part of me. My mother might have learned to love him, but that didn’t mean I could do the same.
“And what if I love someone else?” The words escaped me before I could stop them. They hung in the air, trembling between us. My voice shook, but I didn’t take them back. I couldn’t.
My father turned sharply. His eyes narrowed, cold and unreadable. “Unless it is a lord, a prince, or a duke, the marriage will continue anyway.”
My stomach sank. “And what if he isn’t?”
He stilled. His tone sharpened. “What are you saying?”
My throat tightened. I hesitated, but the words pushed out anyway. “What if he’s not one of them?”
The air grew tense, heavy. I could see something flicker in his eyes. “What are you trying to say, Iris?”
My heart pounded so fast it almost hurt. I could barely breathe. But I refused to stay silent. “I’m saying that I love someone.”
Silence. A deep, cold silence that made the room feel smaller. My father’s gaze hardened, his jaw set. “Are you saying you love someone?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
His voice dropped low. “Who?”
My hands trembled, but I straightened my back. “I’m not telling you.”
His tone rose. “I asked you a question.”
“And I’m not answering it.” My words came out shaky but loud enough to echo.
He took a slow step forward, then another, until he was standing directly in front of me. The space between us disappeared. I could smell the faint scent of wine on his breath, the heat of his anger pressing against my skin.
For a moment, I thought I should move back, bow my head or say sorry. But I didn’t. My legs wanted to buckle, yet I forced them still. He looked furious, but I met his eyes anyway. My hands were shaking, my throat tight, but I wouldn’t look away.
My mind raced. I thought about William. About the way he looked at me like I wasn’t a crown or a duty. About the way his voice softened when he said my name. I thought about how he held me like I was something worth protecting, not something owned.
I couldn’t tell my father his name, not yet. Not when I knew what he would do. But I also couldn’t let him believe I would marry a man I didn’t love. Not when my heart already belonged to someone else.
He took another step closer, his boots scraping against the stone
floor. His eyes were hard and sharp as steel. “I won’t ask again,” he said, his voice low but filled with warning. “Who?”
My breath caught in my throat. “I’m not telling you.”
For a moment, there was a heavy, unbearable silence. Then he began to laugh. A sound that sent a chill crawling up my spine. It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t amused. It was dark and cruel, the laughter of someone who already knew he held all the power.
“You’re such a fool,” he said, still laughing. “You really think I won’t find out? You think you can keep something like that from me?” His eyes flashed. “Iris, I will find out. And when I do, I’ll have his head. And you’ll still marry Lorenzo. So don’t play smart with me.”
My whole body trembled. I wanted to shout, to tell him he was wrong, but no sound came. My throat tightened, and all I could do was stare at him, my vision blurring.
“But,” he continued, stepping closer until the heat of his anger pressed against me, “if you tell me now, maybe I’ll show mercy. Maybe I’ll spare him a cruel death.”
Still, I said nothing. My lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come. I could barely breathe. I just stared at him, feeling the pounding of my heart and the weight of the silence that followed.
His expression darkened. I saw it happen, how his control snapped. His hand came up before I could even move. The sound of the slap filled the room, sharp and final.
Pain bloomed across my cheek, bright and searing. My head turned with the force of it. For a moment, the world spun, and I tasted blood on my tongue. My eyes burned, but I refused to let the tears fall. I would not give him that.
He stood above me, chest heaving, his voice harsh and shaking. “You will do as you are told. You will marry the prince, and you will not speak another word of this foolishness.”
I met his gaze through the haze of pain, my chest rising and falling with every ragged breath. There were no words left. No pleas. Just the hollow ache of knowing that whatever love I had found was now in danger because of me.
“Leave,” he said at last.
I turned, my steps unsteady. The room spun as I reached for the door, my cheek throbbing with every heartbeat. When the heavy wood shut behind me, the echo followed me down the hall, chasing me like a shadow I couldn’t escape.
And for the first time, I truly understood what it meant to be powerless.