CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
WILLIAM
The summons came before sunset.
A young guard stood at the barracks door, his voice tight with nerves. “The king requests your presence in the throne room, Sir William.”
He left before I could answer.
Eric was sitting on his bunk, sharpening his blade. He looked up when he heard the door shut behind me. “The king, huh?” he said, leaning back slightly. “Good luck, man. His temper’s not something I’d want pointed at me.”
I gave a small nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The walk to the throne room felt longer than usual. The corridors were silent save for the faint echo of my boots against the stone. Sunlight crept through the tall windows, streaking the marble floors with pale gold. I tried not to think about why I’d been summoned, but my mind went there anyway.
Two guards flanked the tall doors when I arrived. At the sound of my approach, they stepped forward and pushed them open. The hall inside was vast and cold, every word and footstep swallowed by the emptiness.
I walked until I stood before the dais, then dropped to one knee. “Your Majesty.”
The king who was shitting on his throne, regarded me quietly before speaking. “Rise, Sir William.”
I obeyed, standing straight but keeping my gaze low.
“I have seen your actions during the attack,” he said. “You fought well. You protected my daughter, even when chaos surrounded you. That was an honorable thing to do.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
His eyes stayed on me. Unreadable. Weighed. “I have a new position for you.”
Something in his tone made my stomach tighten.
“We leave for Valebran tomorrow, for my daughter’s marriage,” he continued. “You will accompany us as her personal guard. From this day forward, she will not take a single step without you nearby.”
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
The words sank like stones, one after another. Her personal guard.
The air felt too thin, the ground too steady.
To guard her. To stand at her side. To look at her every day and pretend she hadn’t lied to me. Pretend I didn’t still remember the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes caught the light, the softness of her voice when she said my name.
My heart thudded once, hard and sharp. Then again, slower, heavier.
It wasn’t fair. None of it was.
She had taken the truth and hidden it from me, and still, some traitorous part of me wanted to see her. To make sure she was safe.
I hated that I cared at all.
The king’s tone sharpened. “You will swear by it.”
The room felt smaller suddenly. Every thought in my head screamed to say no , to walk out before I trapped myself in something I couldn’t handle. But that wasn’t an option. Refusal would mean dishonor, maybe even execution.
I drew in a slow, steady breath, forcing my voice to hold. “I swear by it, Your Majesty.”
“Good,” said the king.
I bowed my head, ready to take my leave, but his voice came again before I could move. “Before you are dismissed, there is one more task.”
I straightened, hands clasped behind my back. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
His tone darkened. “My daughter ran off not long ago. No one knows where she went, and frankly, I haven’t the time to search
for her myself. You will find her and bring her to me. At once.”
For a moment, I felt my entire body go still.
I’d seen her only hours ago. She was unconscious, pale against the mattress and my arms. The memory had followed me since.
When Raven said she would recover, I hadn’t let myself react then, not in front of the others. But the relief that had hit me was sharp, almost painful. I’d pushed it down. I couldn’t let them see it.
And now she was awake. Alive. Running.
A strange, uneven mix of relief and dread settled in my chest. Relief that she could still run at all. Dread that I was the one sent to find her.
Still, there was no refusing the king. Not this order. Not any.
“Do you understand, Sir William?” said the king.
I lowered my eyes, the words heavy in my throat. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
He gave a short nod. “Good. Do not return without her.”
I bowed once more, the motion stiff and empty. “As you command.”
When I turned, the sound of my boots against the stone echoed faintly through the chamber. The great doors closed behind me, their weight ringing through the hall like a final order.
The air outside was cool, and I breathed it in slowly, trying to steady myself. I already knew where she had gone. She always went there. The same place she’d gone when she needed to breathe or feel something.
The forest was quiet as I made my way through it, only the sound of my boots against the dirt path breaking the stillness. The evening light sifted through the trees, painting the ground with patches of gold. My hand rested near the hilt of my sword, though I wasn’t sure if I needed it.
I didn’t know what I would say when I found her. I didn’t know what she would say to me. None of that mattered. The king had given his order, and I had sworn to obey.
When I reached the riverbank, I stopped.
She was there.
Beneath the same tree that held the swings, folded in on herself, small and still. Her gown was wrinkled, her hair tangled, and the light caught on the tear tracks staining her cheeks. Her knees were drawn close to her chest, her face buried in her arms. Her shoulders trembled with every quiet sob.
The sound of it cut through the air.
For a long moment, I couldn’t move. The sight of her like that twisted something deep inside me. I had imagined finding her angry, defiant. Anything but this. Seeing her broken instead made my chest tighten until breathing felt wrong.
The breeze stirred the leaves overhead, the faint sound of the river threading through her soft, uneven breaths. It was the same place where she had laughed. The same tree where she had looked at me like the world had stilled.
Now, she looked so far from that girl it almost hurt to believe she was the same.
I cleared my throat quietly. “Your Highness.”
She lifted her head at once, startled. Her eyes were red, her lashes wet. For a second, she looked lost. Then she saw me.
“William?”
I nodded once, my jaw set.
She wiped her face quickly with the back of her hand, trying to compose herself. Her fingers shook. The sight was harder to bear than I wanted it to be.
“I should have known,” she said quietly, her voice rough from crying. “Of course he sent someone.”
“He did,” I said, keeping my tone even. “He wants you back at
the castle.”
She looked at the river for a long moment, then turned her gaze back to me. “How did you know where I’d be?”
I hesitated, glancing toward the water before meeting her eyes again. “Because you always come here.”
Her lips trembled. For a moment, I thought she might speak again, but instead she turned away, her gaze dropping back to the water. “Please,” she whispered. “Can I stay here a moment longer?”
I nodded once, slow and careful. “Of course.”
Silence stretched between us, broken only by the rush of the river. She tried to breathe evenly, but it came out shaky, unsteady. More tears slipped down her cheeks, catching the dying light.
“He’s marrying me off tomorrow,” she said finally. Her voice cracked on the last word. “To a man I’ve never met. A man I don’t even love.”
The words settled heavy in the air.
I took a slow breath, trying to keep it steady. “I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t enough, and I knew it. Still, it was all I could manage without my voice betraying me.
She shook her head weakly. “He doesn’t care about me. Not as his daughter. Only as the princess who can give him what he wants.”
Her voice broke, and something in me broke with it.
I wanted to stay angry. Saints I knew I had every right to. She lied to me, looked me in the eye and lied again. But watching her like this, frightened, tears streaking down her face, made it almost impossible to hold onto the anger the way I had before.
It didn’t matter that she was the king’s daughter. Right now, she looked like the girl who had laughed by the river, the one who had read aloud from an old story and smiled as if nothing could touch her.
I clenched my hands at my sides, forcing myself to stay still. I
wasn’t supposed to care. Not anymore.
But I did.
And I hated that I did.
The thoughts came slow, one after another, pressing tight in my
chest. She had lied. She had hurt me. I should have walked away the moment I found her. I should have turned back and done my duty.
But I couldn’t.
Each sound she made chipped away what little distance I had left. The anger didn’t vanish, but it dulled, giving way to something heavier. Something I couldn’t name without feeling like a fool.
I took a small step closer. Then another.
Still, I hesitated.
The memory of her voice, her laughter, the way she had looked at me beneath the sunlight . All of it rose at once, clearer than I wanted it to be. Before I could stop myself, I knelt beside her.
Her shoulders shook with every breath. She didn’t even look up when I reached out. My hand hovered for a moment, trembling with the weight of everything I shouldn’t do . Then I let it fall.
She didn’t resist when I pulled her in.
Her body trembled against me, small and unsteady. Her face pressed against my chestplate, and I felt her hands clutch at it like she needed something solid to keep from breaking.
“It’s alright,” I said quietly, my hand resting against her back. “Let it out.”
And she did.
Her sobs came hard at first, sharp and uneven, then softened
until they became quiet gasps between breaths. Her tears and snot soaked into the leather at my shoulder. I didn’t care. No one deserved to fall apart like this alone . Not even her.
After a while, the crying faded. Her breathing evened out, but her hands still trembled. Slowly, she lifted her head. Her face was flushed, streaked red from tears. Her eyes looked glassy, exhausted, but still searching.
“Will you be there?” she asked softly.
I frowned. “Where?”
“At Valebran,” she said. “For the wedding.”
The word made something twist inside me. I couldn’t find my voice right away, but when I did, it came low and steady. “Yes.”
Something in her gaze shifted at that. The faintest spark flickered in her eyes, fragile but bright. Hope.
“You will?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
“I will,” I said quietly. “The king ordered it. I’m to be your guard.”
Her breath caught, and a small smile found her lips. It wasn’t joy, just relief. Maybe comfort. The smallest piece of something that still felt safe.
She leaned into me again, her head resting lightly against my shoulder. I didn’t move. I just let her breathe. Her hair brushed against the side of my neck, warm and soft. For the first time that day, the world felt still.
Moments passed before she stirred. Her voice came quiet but steadier than before. “We should head back.”
“We should head back,” she said.
I nodded. “Alright.”
She wiped the last of her tears with the edge of her sleeve and brushed the dirt from her skirts. When she stood, the sunlight caught on her hair, turning it almost gold. I rose with her, and together we started down the narrow path through the forest.
For a while, neither of us spoke. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth. Leaves crunched beneath our boots and each step felt lighter than the one before.
We were almost past the river when she stopped. Her breath hitched.
“Wait,” she whispered. “Don’t move.”
I froze, my hand instinctively brushing the hilt of my sword. My eyes scanned the trees, searching for movement.
“What is it?” I asked under my breath.
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she pointed ahead. “Look.”
I followed her finger.
Two small shapes moved in the grass just beyond the path: a pair of white rabbits. One larger, one small enough to fit in a palm. The smaller pressed close to the other’s side, twitching its nose as the mother shifted, alert but calm.
“They’re so beautiful,” she whispered. “The most beautiful
creatures to exist.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
But I wasn’t looking at them.
My gaze stayed on her instead, the way the sunlight touched her face, the soft curve of her features. She looked almost like she belonged here, in the quiet of the forest, untouched by the world that waited beyond its edge. She reminded me so much of ‘Elara’ at that moment.
The anger in me almost completely dulled. Almost.
If she were a creature of this world, she would have been like them with her soft jawline, soft features, big eyes and lips the color of a bunny’ tongue.
The bunnies shifted, then hopped off into the tall grass until they disappeared from sight.
She let out a small breath, almost a sigh, then turned to me. “Let’s keep moving.”
I nodded and fell into step beside her. The walk was quiet again. The forest thinned little by little until the tall stone walls of the castle came into view.
When we reached the gates, the guards straightened at once and bowed. The sunlight caught on their armor, flashing briefly before fading again.
Iris turned to me, her expression calm but tired. “You’ve done
your duty,” she said softly. “You can leave now.”
For a moment, I almost spoke. The words sat at the edge of my tongue, it wasn’t all duty. But I swallowed them back.
I gave a short nod instead. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
She hesitated, just for a second, as if waiting for me to say something more. When I didn’t, she turned and walked toward the castle doors.
I watched her go until the gates closed behind her. The silence that followed was heavy, settling deep in my chest.
It wasn’t all duty. But I kept that truth to myself as I turned away and walked back down the path alone.