CHAPTER FORTY NINE
WILLIAM
The priest stepped back as the two kings moved forward. The crowd fell silent again, the air heavy with ceremony and expectation.
A servant stepped from the side, carrying a silver blade on a
small velvet cloth. He bowed low, then held it out to King Henrik. My king took it without hesitation. The blade gleamed in the sun, sharp and spotless.
He turned to King Phelipe, his expression solemn. “In blood we seal this bond.”
Without flinching, Kink Henrik cut his palm first. A thin line of red followed. He then offered the blade to King Phelipe who did the same, the blood beading along his skin.
They clasped their hands tightly together.
“In blood we bind ourselves,” Henrik said, his voice strong and sure.
Phelipe nodded, his tone matching his own. “And may this alliance last forever.”
The crowd erupted into cheers, the kind that rolled through the courtyard like thunder. Trumpets sounded from the balcony, and rose petals fell from the upper windows.
Everyone looked joyous. Everyone but me.
Their cheers felt distant, muffled, like the world had moved on without me. I kept my stance, sword at my side, eyes on the ground. The blood binding their hands was meant to mark peace between two kingdoms, but all I could see was what it cost.
It had cost her.
And as their voices rang out in celebration, I stood there in silence with a heart breaking for a peace that had taken everything
from me.