Chapter Seven
IT HAD BEEN WEEKS SINCE Lady Aurora had started living in the dorm, and the impact of this on Michael was quite...noticeable.
Perhaps to strangers, it wouldn’t be as evident. One look at the royal sheikh, and they would see that his presence was still commanding, every inch the handsome and powerful ruler of Layla. But because she did know him just a bit more than strangers did...
Ella knew that the tightness around his eyes was not typical of him.
Or the way his jaw never seemed to unclench.
She had seen the way his gaze would drift whenever Aurora’s name was mentioned—like a man haunted by a ghost he himself had created.
Seen the hunger he tried so hard to hide. Whatever was between them, it ran deep.
The things she noticed were all little things, but they were little things that mattered, with a man as composed as the sheikh, and that was why when he asked her for a favor...
She didn’t hesitate to say yes, and in her eagerness to help, she failed to realize what this would mean to her. She forgot how all eyes were on her, too, waiting for her to make a mistake. All she cared about was taking the letter from the Sheikh of Layla and doing her job as his trusted courier.
After all, what was a fairy tale without a good messenger?
And so off she went to the dormitory of Michael’s ward, letter clutched in her hand.
Here goes nothing...
Ella knocked on the door but didn’t wait for an answer as she entered the room.
Oh.
The curtains were drawn against the afternoon light, as if the girl inside had decided that sunshine was too cheerful a thing to bear.
Aurora sat curled on the narrow bed, still in her nightgown despite the late hour, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to hold together pieces that kept falling apart.
Her golden hair—the kind of hair that belonged in a storybook, the kind that princes were supposed to climb—was tangled and unwashed.
And even from across the room, Ella could see it: the way the girl’s fingers kept drifting to her lips, touching them absently, as if the memory of his kiss was a spell she couldn’t break.
Since she and Aurora attended the same school, Ella had seen the other girl every so often, and Aurora was always full of life. But now?
This girl was just doing her best to take things one day at a time...just like a certain royal sheikh.
Two stubborn fools, the both of them. It would be romantic if it weren’t so infuriating.
“I’m so sorry to barge in unannounced—” Ella pretended not to notice Aurora straightening, preparing to ask her to leave. “—but I just needed to come here and give you this.”
Ella held out the letter, and her heart broke a little when she saw the way Aurora’s lip started to tremble as soon as her gaze fell on the royal seal.
“Is that...is that...”
It took Ella an extra second to realize what had Aurora wanting to cry, and she wanted to kick herself in the head for not anticipating that.
“It’s not a wedding invitation,” she said hastily, emphatically. “It’s really a letter—a handwritten letter from the Crown Prince of Layla. For you.”
Aurora rose from the bed on unsteady legs and crossed to where Ella stood. Her hands were shaking as she took the letter and broke the seal. Her fingers lingered on the wax, on the place where his hands had touched, and Ella’s heart ached at the desperate tenderness in that small gesture.
This girl was so obviously, hopelessly in love.
And so, Ella suspected, was the idiot who had sent this letter.
Ella held her breath, hoping that whatever it was that Michael had written would finally clear whatever misunderstanding there was between them.
“He wishes me well,” the other girl said blankly.
But obviously not.
Oh, Sheikh Michael, you totally blew it!
Of all the things to write to the woman you loved, the sheikh chose...I wish you well? SERIOUSLY? What was next? Best regards? Warm wishes for your future endeavors?
Ella struggled not to think of insults to hurl at the sheikh when she saw the other girl’s face start to crumble. The letter fell from Aurora’s hands as she choked something incoherent, and Ella felt painfully helpless as she watched Aurora excuse herself before disappearing into the en-suite.
Oh, Michael, you cold, heart—oh, wait a minute.
An idea sparkedt o life when her gaze accidentally fell on Aurora’s writing desk by the window, and she didn’t give herself a chance to think things through.
She crossed the room in quick strides, swiped the letter off the floor, and grabbed a pen from the desk to scribble a reply to a certain clueless sheikh.
If he couldn’t find the words, then she would find them for him, and oooh.
Her eyes lit up when she saw the embossed sealer mixed in with the other pens.
Perfect!
She worked quickly, folding the letter with care and pressing the seal into place just as the bathroom door began to creak open.
By the time Aurora emerged, eyes red and face damp, Ella was already at the door, her expression innocent as a fairy godmother who had absolutely not just meddled in someone else’s love story.
“I’ll let myself out,” Ella said gently. “Take care of yourself, Aurora.”
And then she was gone, the letter tucked safely in her pocket, and telling herself piously that it was not a bad thing to write letters on other people’s behalf...even if said other person wasn’t aware of it. A proper happily-ever-after justified the means, right?
****
“THANK YOU FOR THIS, milady.” Lord Barton bowed respectfully before taking the letter from Ella’s outstretched hand.
“Please make sure it reaches him,” Ella said.
“Of course.”
Barton tucked the letter into his coat, climbed into his waiting carriage, and watched through the window as Lady Ella’s figure grew smaller in the distance.
As soon as he was alone in the backseat, on his way back to Layla, curiosity got the better of him, and he started turning the letter this way and that.
The embossed seal on the folded lines of the letter prevented him from breaking it open, but as he turned it over, tilting it toward the fading light from the carriage window, he could see the edge of the paper inside.
Could make out fragments of words through the gap.
...destined...
...another man...
...thanks to you...
Aha!
So this was a letter about the feelings of the prince towards Lady Ella.
A slow smile spread across Barton’s face. Lady Dezza would absolutely need to know about this, and he was already rubbing his hands gleefully as he considered how the princess would reward him for such delicious information.
Every fairy tale needed a villain, after all.
And Barton was more than happy to play the part.
But in the meantime...
He would deliver the letter as promised.
And wait.
****
THE LETTER ARRIVED at Sheikh Mik’hail’s study just before sunset, the last rays of light slanting through the tall windows and casting long shadows across his desk like fingers reaching for something just out of grasp.
Mik’hail’s lips tightened when he saw Aurora’s embossed seal pressed into the paper.
He himself was the one who had gifted her with it, after hearing her admire the seal he used for his own correspondence.
He could still remember the way her face had lit up, the way she had thrown her arms around him in thanks before remembering herself and pulling away with flushed cheeks.
Such a simple gift. Such a simple moment.
And yet he would trade his entire kingdom to have it back.
He turned the letter over in his hands, feeling the weight of it. His thumb traced the seal she had pressed into the paper—the seal he had given her, the one she had smiled so brightly at receiving—and something twisted in his chest.
And then he opened it, preparing himself for the worst.
I wish you well, too, Your Highness.
And I truly mean that because I’ve come to realize that living away from you was exactly what needed to happen for my eyes to be opened.
I’m destined to be with another man.
And it is thanks to you that I’ve already met him.
The sheikh read the words once.
Twice.
Three times.
And then his fist closed around the letter, crumpling it into a ball.
She thought she was destined for another man.
She thought she could thank him for helping her find someone else.
As if he hadn’t memorized every curve of her body. As if he hadn’t tasted her sighs. As if she wasn’t already his in every way that mattered.
As if any other man could ever be her prince.
No more.
Mik’hail had tried to do the right thing. Had tried to push her away, to protect her from the scandal that would erupt if anyone discovered the truth about them. Had told himself that she deserved better, that she deserved someone who wasn’t haunted by the ghost of her dead sister.
But he was done.
Done pretending he didn’t want her.
Done pretending he could live without her.
Done letting her believe that anyone else could ever take her place.
He was her prince. He had always been her prince. And it was time he started acting like it.
The sheikh rose from his chair and strode to the door, yanking it open to find Gordan waiting in the hall.
“Your Highness?” The retainer’s eyes widened at whatever he saw in the sheikh’s face.
“Ready the car.” Mik’hail’s voice was ice. “I’m bringing her home. Tonight.”