CHAPTER SIXTY
WILLIAM
I worked quietly, my hands moving the way she told me to. The cut was deep, and every time I pressed the cloth to her skin, I saw her flinch, even though she tried to hide it. I hated it. I hated that she had done this for me.
She guided me through each step with a weak voice, telling me how tight to wrap the bandages, how to fold the cloth so it wouldn’t reopen the wound. I listened, but my mind wasn’t really here. All I could think about was how I wished she hadn’t done it.
She was a princess. She belonged in a palace, surrounded by gold and silk, not in a forgotten cottage with blood on her hands. Not like this.
It would have been better if she had let me die. At least then, she would still have her title, her crown, her safety. But now she had nothing. Because of me. Because she chose me.
I tightened the last bandage, my chest aching with guilt. I would protect her. No matter what came next, I’d make sure no one ever touched her again. If I had to fight every soldier in the kingdom, I would. I’d kill for her. I’d die for her.
“That’s enough,” she whispered, breaking through my thoughts. “I think that’s good.”
I nodded, my hands still on her. For a moment, I couldn’t move.
Then I leaned forward and pulled her into my arms.
She gasped softly, but her arms came up around me. I held her close, afraid that if I let go, she would vanish.
“I love you,” I whispered against her hair. My voice trembled. “I love you so, so much.”
She didn’t answer right away, just rested her head against my chest, her heartbeat weak but steady. Then she whispered back, barely audible.
“I love you too.”
Something inside me broke then. Not from pain, but from the unbearable truth that love like this could survive even ruin. I buried my face in her hair and held her tighter, as if I could shield her from the world that had already cast her out.
Outside, the wind howled through the pines, carrying the echoes of a kingdom that no longer wanted us.
Let them have their thrones.
I had her.
That was enough.
—
It had been seven days since our exile. Seven days since the castle walls disappeared behind us and the world grew quiet again.
I was outside, working the soil by hand, the sun already low in the sky. The air smelled like pine and damp earth. My hands were rough and raw, but I didn’t mind. It felt good to build something again, even if it was small. The garden would give us food in time, and the work kept my thoughts still.
Behind me, the door creaked open. I looked up and saw her standing there. Iris. She was wearing one of my old tunics, her
hair loose, her face pale but glowing in the light.
“Do you need help?” she asked softly.
I straightened, frowning. “No. Get back inside. You need rest.”
She smiled faintly but didn’t move. “I’ve been lying down all day.”
Then I saw her hand clutch her abdomen. The smile faded, replaced by a wince. The spade fell from my hand before I even realized it. In an instant, I was at her side.
“Easy,” I said, slipping an arm around her. My hand pressed gently to the small of her back as I guided her inside. She didn’t argue, just leaned against me, her steps slow but steady.
When we reached the bed, she sank onto it with a tired breath. I knelt beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her eyes met mine, soft and tired, but filled with something that made my chest ache.
We didn’t need to say anything.
This was our life now. No crowns, no swords, no titles, no gold, no silver armor. Just the two of us in a small cottage in the middle of nowhere.
And maybe that was enough.
Because we had each other.
And we always would.
EPILOGUE
IRIS
Three months had passed.
Three quiet, beautiful months.
I had never known happiness like this before. Not the kind that comes from grand halls or silk gowns, but the kind that fills the air with peace. The kind that made me feel safe, and whole, and loved.
Every morning I woke up to the sound of birds and William’s arms around me. Every night, I fell asleep to his heartbeat. The memories of the palace, of my father, of all that had been taken from me. They felt distant now, like a dream fading in the morning light.
William had become a farmer. He worked the fields every day, hands calloused, face sun-touched, yet he never once complained. I went to the village from time to time, helping the sick as a healer. It wasn’t much, but together we made enough to survive. Enough to live.
And that was all we needed.
Now, we were lying together in bed, the soft light of the fire flickering across the walls. William’s arm was draped around me, a book open in his other hand. His voice was steady, low, and warm as he read.
It was The Willow Bride . Our story.
As he neared the end, I nestled closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder. I knew how the story ended. Mike and Elara didn’t get to be together, but that no longer hurt me. Because William and I were. We were together, and that was enough.
When he finished the last page, he closed the book and smiled down at me. “The end,” he said softly.
I smiled back, my fingers tracing lazy circles over his chest. “It’s still my favorite story,” I whispered.
He tilted his head slightly, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “Because it’s ours now?”
I nodded. “Because we changed the ending.”
He laughed quietly, that deep, gentle sound I’d grown to love more than anything. Then he leaned in.
Our lips met, soft and slow. The kind of kiss that didn’t need words, that said everything instead.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. The fire crackled beside us, and the world outside went still.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t think about tomorrow. Only this moment. Only him.
He then pulled back, smiling and brushed a thumb along my cheek. “I’ll go make dinner,” he said.
I stretched, the sheets rustling as I sat up. “I’ll help,” I said, reaching for his hand.
He laughed under his breath and helped me out of bed. The floorboards creaked faintly beneath our feet as we walked toward the door. Everything felt calm: the golden light from the window, the smell of the fire, the peace we had built here.
But then William stopped.
He froze mid-step, his shoulders going rigid. His eyes widened, fixed on something beyond the doorway.
My heart quickened. “William?” I whispered. “What is it?”
He didn’t answer.
I followed his gaze, my breath catching in my throat.
Outside, through the open window, stood a line of castle guards. Their armor gleamed in the dying light. Each one held a sword, drawn and ready.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Then one of them stepped forward and burst through the door.
The warmth of the fire lingered for only a moment before fading, leaving nothing but the sound of steel and the echo of everything we were about to lose.
End of Book One.
Love survives exile.
Hope survives ruin.
And somewhere beyond the ashes of Elarion… their story continues.
A word from the writer
Thank you so much for reading and reaching the end of this story.