CHAPTER FIFTY NINE
IRIS
He carried me through the courtyard, his steps uneven but steady. The guards didn’t stop us. No one dared. The only sound was the soft trail of blood dripping from my gown onto the stone.
We reached the stables. The scent of hay and earth filled the air. His horse, Corven, neighed softly as if sensing the storm around us. William moved quickly, his breath heavy, his face pale.
He lifted me onto the saddle, settling me in front of him. I felt his arm wrap around me, his hand pressing firmly against my wound. His other hand gripped the reins. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His silence said everything.
The gates loomed ahead. The same gates that had once welcomed me home now stood like a wall between who I was and who I had become.
The wind brushed against my face. My vision blurred, not from pain but from the weight of everything I was leaving behind. My father. My kingdom. The life I once knew.
William clicked his tongue softly, and Corven moved forward. The hooves struck the cobblestone, echoing through the courtyard like a heartbeat fading away.
He held me close, his hand still pressed against my stomach, warm and trembling. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest against my back, the steady rhythm of his breath keeping me awake.
Neither of us spoke. There was nothing left to say.
As the castle disappeared behind us, I rested my head against him. The night swallowed us whole. The pain dulled for a moment, replaced by something deeper.
Grief. Love. Freedom.
And as the wind carried us into the dark, I knew this was the beginning of something neither of us could ever escape.
—
We had been riding for hours. The wind had grown colder, the sky painted with streaks of orange and red as the sun dipped behind the trees.
My head rested against his chest the entire way, my body weak, my vision hazy.
I was surprised I hadn’t bled out, but William’s hand never once left my wound.
He held it tight the whole ride, whispering my name whenever my eyes began to close.
When he finally pulled on the reins, I lifted my head weakly. My breath caught in my throat.
We were there. His cottage. The same small house in the middle of the wilds, surrounded by forest and quiet. The place where everything had begun.
Nostalgia filled me. I remembered the first night I had come here, the rain, the fear, the warmth of his fire. It felt like another
lifetime.
He climbed down first and then lifted me carefully from the horse. I could feel the strain in his arms, the trembling, but he didn’t say a word. He set Corven loose to rest near the fence and carried me inside
The moment we entered, the familiar scent of smoke and pine hit me. It almost broke me.
William moved to the bed, the same one where I had once slept the night we met, and laid me down as if I were made of glass. His hands trembled as he reached for the torn fabric of my gown.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and tore the blood-soaked cloth away from my stomach. The air hit my skin, cold and sharp. He froze when he saw the wound. For a moment, the world seemed to stop
stop with him.
“You shouldn’t have done this for me,” he said “You were never meant to. I would have faced every blade before letting this happen.” he said quietly, his voice raw.
I looked at him, my chest rising and falling with effort. “I did, William.”
He pressed a hand against the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding. “No,” he whispered fiercely. “Now look at you. You’re bleeding out, you’re banished. There’s a kill order on your name. You’ve lost everything.”
A faint smile touched my lips, even as my body trembled from
the pain. “But I didn’t lose you,” I said softly. “They would have killed you if I hadn’t.”
He shook his head, his jaw tightening as tears welled in his eyes. “You should’ve let me die. At least then you’d still be safe.”
“Safe?” I whispered, a weak laugh slipping through the pain. “There’s no safety without you.”
He swallowed hard, his voice barely holding together. “God, I don’t deserve you.”
My eyes met his, glassy, fading, but still filled with him. “Neither do I,” I whispered. “That’s why we fit perfectly together.”
For a moment, he said nothing. Then he leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine, his breath trembling against my lips.
“If you die here, Iris…” His voice cracked as if that was something he refused to imagine. “Then God will have to take me with you.”
My fingers trembled as I wiped his tears away. “I’m still here,” I whispered. “And I’m not leaving this world while you’re in it.”
He let out a shaky breath, his forehead still pressed against mine, as if afraid that letting go would make me vanish.
For a moment, everything was silent. No guards. No courtiers. No crown. Just him and me, breathing in the wreckage of what we’d become.
Outside, the wind whispered through the pines, carrying with it
the scent of the kingdom I could never return to. It didn’t sting the way I thought it would. Not when his arms were around me.
“You’re safe now,” he murmured, though his voice trembled. “Even if you don’t have your old life anymore, we’ll build something of our own.”
And as the night closed around us, I believed him. I always would. For the first time, exile didn’t feel like an ending. It felt like the beginning of us.