CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
IRIS
The dining hall was bright and full of sound. The long table gleamed beneath the chandelier, silver platters spread with roasted meats, fruits, and bread still warm from the oven. The scent of herbs and honey filled the air.
My father sat beside King Phelipe at the head of the table, the two of them deep in conversation about alliances and borders. Their voices carried easily, low but confident, the way men spoke when they believed the world was firmly in their grasp.
I sat to their right, across from the queen. Lorenzo was beside me, cutting into his steak with practiced ease. He looked relaxed, comfortable in his place, occasionally leaning toward me to say something polite.
I nodded when expected, smiled when I had to, and tried to focus on the plate in front of me. The chicken was tender, the sauce rich, but I could hardly taste it. The weight in my stomach had nothing to do with the food.
Laughter rose from further down the table. Servants moved quietly between us, refilling goblets and clearing plates. The light flickered against the walls, soft and golden, and for a moment, I wished I could melt into it, become part of something so simple.
Lorenzo turned to me again, his voice gentle. “You should try
the wine. It’s from our vineyards.”
I gave a small smile, lifting the cup to my lips. “It’s lovely.”
He looked pleased, and I looked back to my food, pretending to eat, pretending everything was fine. But the hollow ache in my chest stayed. It always did.
When the meal ended, the kings were still talking, their voices rumbling over the clatter of plates. Lorenzo wiped his mouth with a napkin, then stood and turned to me with a smile.
“Allow me to walk you to your bedchamber,” he said.
I nodded, setting my napkin down. “Of course.”
He placed a hand at the small of my back, guiding me gently out of the hall. The corridors were quiet now, the echo of our steps following us through the long stretch of marble and silver.
We were halfway to my room when a sound stopped me. It was faint but sharp, a muffled cry coming from somewhere down the servant’s hall. I turned my head, listening
“Is something wrong?” Lorenzo asked.
“I thought I heard—” I hesitated, glancing toward the narrow corridor ahead. “I’ll be just a moment. You can go on, I won’t be long.”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I’ll wait by your door. Can’t have my future bride wandering alone.”
His words made my stomach tighten, but I forced a polite smile. “As you wish.”
I turned toward the sound, following it down the narrow corridor. The castle was quiet here, far from the warmth of the halls. Only the faint light of a lantern guided me. When I pushed open the door to the servants’ barracks, the smell of soap and damp cloth filled the air.
Raven was sitting on one of the cots, her knees drawn up, her face hidden in her hands. Her shoulders trembled as quiet sobs escaped her.
“Raven,” I said softly, moving closer.
She lifted her head, eyes red and wet. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Please, just go, Iris.”
I shook my head and knelt beside her. “No. This is the second time I’ve seen you like this.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, turning away. “You should leave.”
“Is it because you saw him again?” I asked quietly.
She froze for a moment before nodding. “I can’t,” she said in a broken voice. “It hurts to see him. I thought I was past it, but I’m
not.”
My chest tightened. I sat beside her and pulled her into my arms. “Oh, Raven.”
She clung to me, crying harder. I stroked her hair, letting her cry as long as she needed. “Everything will be alright,” I said softly, though part of me doubted my own words.
Her pain reminded me too much of my own. The way it hurt
every time I saw William, the way my chest ached knowing he wanted nothing to do with me. But I pushed it aside. This wasn’t about me.
So I stayed with her, holding her until her sobs turned quiet. “You’ll be alright,” I whispered again.
Raven nodded weakly, her voice hoarse. “I hope so.”
I gave her hand a light squeeze. “You will be,” I said, even if I wasn’t sure either of us believed it.
Moments passed in quiet. The air in the barracks felt heavy, filled with the faint sound of Raven’s soft breaths between tears. Outside, the last light of day slipped away, leaving the small room in a haze of shadow and candlelight.
Finally, Raven sat up, wiping at her eyes. “I should head to bed,” she said, her voice tired and low.
I stood with her, brushing the wrinkles from my dress. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”
She nodded faintly. “I will. I just need some rest.”
I stayed beside her until she lay down, curling beneath her blanket. Her breathing steadied slowly, the tension easing from her face. I watched her for a while longer, waiting until her eyes finally closed. Only then did I move.
Quietly, I slipped out of the room and pulled the door closed behind me. The corridor outside was dim, lit only by a few torches along the walls. My footsteps echoed softly as I made my way
through the long halls toward my chamber.
When I reached the door, I froze. Lorenzo was there, standing beside it, his arms crossed casually.
“Took you long,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“You waited,” I replied.
He smiled, unbothered. “I’d wait as long as one could.”
I nodded faintly, unsure how to respond. He stepped forward and opened the door for me.
“After you,” he said.
I stepped inside, the soft light of the chamber washing over the silver walls and pale curtains.
The scent of roses drifted faintly from the balcony.
William stood there, his helm tucked beneath his arm, watching us with that same unreadable expression.
His gaze was steady, cold, and far too heavy to ignore. I hated how much it still affected me.
Lorenzo followed close behind, his steps quiet. “I’ll stay for a bit,” he said lightly. “It feels wrong to leave so soon.”
I hesitated but gave a small nod. “If you wish.”
He smiled, moving closer. His hand found mine, his touch warm and certain. “You look tired,” he said softly.
“I suppose I am,” I murmured.
He lifted my hands between his, brushing his thumb over my knuckles before leaning in and pressing a kiss to them. My breath caught. His lips were gentle, lingering just long enough to make
my heart stutter.
When he looked up again, his green eyes met mine, soft and searching. “You really are beautiful,” he said, his voice quiet.
I tried to smile, though it felt strained. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Lorenzo,” he corrected with a faint grin. “I already said it’s Lorenzo. No titles between us, not when we’ll soon be wed.”
I nodded, forcing a faint smile again. “Of course.”
He stepped closer, closing the space between us until I could feel the warmth of him against my skin. His voice dropped lower, calm and certain. “Rest well, dear,” he said, his breath brushing my cheek. “I’ll need you looking radiant tomorrow.”
Every part of me wanted to pull away, to step back, to breathe again. But I didn’t. I only nodded, my voice thin and quiet. “I will.”
Lorenzo smiled, pleased, and finally released me. He turned toward the door, the faint sound of his boots echoing on the polished floor. Before leaving, he looked back once more, his
gaze soft but expectant. “Goodnight, Iris.”
“Goodnight,” I whispered.
When the door closed behind him, silence filled the room again. It felt heavy, sharp, alive.
William was still standing by the balcony.
The faint lantern light touched the edge of his armor, glinting off the metal and tracing the lines of his face.
His jaw was clenched, his shoulders squared, every inch of him tense.
His eyes were hard, steady, and burning with something I didn’t want to name.
He looked the same as he had all day. Cold. Controlled. Angry.
And I knew, at least part of that anger was mine to carry.
My throat tightened. The guilt pressed down hard, but so did the irritation. He had no right to look at me like that, unless it’s because I lied about who I was, though I doubt that’s the reason.
He crossed his arms over his chest. For a moment, I thought he might say something. But he didn’t. He only kept staring, silent and unmoving, as if daring me to speak first.
The air between us felt like a live wire. I could hear my heartbeat, quick and uneven. I could see the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, slow but deep, as though fighting for control.
I held his gaze, my pulse hammering in my throat. Every second felt longer than the last. I wanted him to look away. I wanted him to say something. Anything.
But he didn’t.
The quiet became unbearable.
Without thinking, I turned sharply and crossed the room. My fingers closed around the door handle, pushing it shut with more force than I meant to. The lock clicked into place, the sound cutting through the stillness like a spark.
The tension seemed to thicken, coil tighter around us both.
I turned back to him, my hands trembling at my sides. He didn’t move. He just stood there, eyes following me with that same quiet, smoldering anger.
Enough.
If he wanted to keep staring at me like that, if he wanted to stand there as though I were some stranger, then he was going to face me now.