CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
IRIS
The servants were hurrying around me. One fastened a necklace around my neck while another adjusted the silver pins in my hair. The gown was white and heavy, embroidered with silver thread that shimmered with every move. It was beautiful, but it didn’t feel like mine.
“Hold still, Your Highness,” one of them said as she tied the corset tighter. I could barely breathe.
Meanwhile, the others continued to fuss around me, their chatter blending into a dull hum.
Somewhere below, I could hear the faint rhythm of footsteps and laughter as others prepared the grand hall for the wedding ball.
The air carried the scent of roses and fresh polish.
Every corner of the castle was coming alive for the day that would change everything.
My chest felt tight, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the corset or from everything pressing down at once. My hands were trembling slightly in my lap when the door opened.
Raven stepped inside.
It had been days since I had last spoken to her, since I found out the truth about her and Lorenzo. She looked unsure, standing near the door like she wasn’t sure she was welcome. Her eyes darted around the room before landing on me.
“You look beautiful,” she said hesitantly.
I met her eyes. For a moment, I saw something fragile there, something almost like pain. It struck me that this must be just as hard for her as it was for me. She was about to watch her friend marry the man who had broken her heart.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
The servants clipped more jewelry around my wrists and neck. Raven stayed still, her hands clasped tightly together. She said nothing, but the sadness in her face spoke louder than words.
“Will you be alright?” I asked.
Her eyes widened before she gave a small, nervous laugh. “Alright? Oh, of course I will.” The sound of it wavered.
I didn’t believe it.
Raven’s gaze flickered away for a moment before she spoke again, her voice smaller this time. “You’re not angry at me? That I didn’t tell you that your prince is—”
“It’s fine,” I said quickly, cutting her off.
“No, Iris, I should have—”
“I did wish you had told me sooner,” I said, keeping my tone steady, “but it’s fine.”
I wasn’t sure if I meant it, but what right did I have to judge her? I had lied too. I had lied to William about who I was. I had hidden my name, my title, my life. So I, out of everyone, couldn’t hold it against her.
Suddenly, a servant stepped into the room. Her voice was hurried. “Is she ready?”
“Almost,” one of the others replied, fastening the last clasp on the back of my gown.
“Well, hurry then,” the first servant said. “The king is coming.”
The king. My father.
My stomach twisted, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My heart began to pound so hard I could feel it in my throat. The room suddenly felt smaller, heavier, like the air itself was pressing down on me.
Raven’s head turned toward me, her face pale. The servants kept moving around, smoothing the folds of my gown, fixing the silver pins in my hair, whispering about perfection and duty. None of them knew that every touch, every word, made me feel more trapped.
He was coming to walk me down the aisle.
To give me away.
Once he stepped into this room, everything would change. There would be no more time, no chance to run, no moment left for second thoughts.
That would be the end of Iris, the girl who once laughed by the river, who dreamed of love and freedom.
And the beginning of someone else entirely.
The servants moved quickly around me now, their hands tugging
,straightening, perfecting every last detail. One of them leaned in to fasten the final clasp at my neck, her fingers trembling with haste.
“Hold still, Your Highness,” she murmured.
I tried, though my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The air felt thick, the sounds distant, as if the world outside the room had already moved on without me.
And then the door opened.
The servants froze.
My father stepped inside.
He filled the doorway, dressed in his formal attire, the crest of Elarion glinting on his chest. His face was calm, unreadable, though his eyes were sharp as they swept across the room before landing on me.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke. The only sound was the faint rustle of silk and the pounding of my heart.
He gave a single nod, the kind that left no room for choice. “It’s time.”
And just like that, the last piece of air left my lungs.
This was it.
The moment he took my arm, my life would no longer be mine.
I looked down at the gown, at the diamonds, at the glimmering white fabric that felt more like a chain than a dress.
And I knew that once I stepped through that door, there would
be no turning back.