Epilogue
PRINCESS DAVINA
“Your soulmate will be the stranger you recognize.”
— R. H. Sin
M y thoughts are a blur, and I feel fractured, like a piece of me is missing.
The castle feels both foreign and familiar. My mother hardly left my side since I woke from...what? I still try to make sense of the little she’s told me, but my mind feels like a tangled mess of emotions and fragmented memories.
I glance down at my chest, where a jagged scar is a reminder of a blade that once pierced my flesh. “How…” I ask again, trying to grasp at the threads of her words. “How did I break the curse?”
“By choosing to follow your heart.”
I want to ask more, to demand every detail, but my strength is fading again, and my eyelids droop despite my efforts to stay awake.
The door swings open, and Elijah walks in. “Your Highness,” he says, bowing slightly. “There’s someone here to see you. They’ve been waiting for quite some time.”
My mother looks at me, her eyes filled with encouragement. “You should go,” she says softly.
I muster all the energy I have left and rise from my seat, driven by an inexplicable urgency to find out who—or what—might be waiting for me.
She follows me as I walk behind Elijah down the winding corridors of the castle, and when we reach the grand entrance, the heavy wooden doors creak open.
There’s a girl with a man in tow.
“It’s you,” she says, her wide eyes fixed on my mother. “You’re the one who helped me out of the dungeon.”
My mother smiles widely, nodding. “That’s right.”
The girl’s eyes flicker to me, taking in my presence with curiosity. She’s beautiful and looks about my age, though a weariness in her gaze suggests she’s been through a lot.
“Say something,” she whispers to the man, nudging his ribs.
I glance at him, his stare intense and unwavering, as if mesmerized, and I’m trapped in his gaze, my heart suddenly pounding.
His brown hair falls in perfect, short waves, framing a face that is undeniably handsome, with a jawline so sharp it could cut out a girl’s heart.
“Your Majesty,” she continues, “I apologize for the intrusion. My brother insisted on coming here. He’s… He wouldn’t stop walking—he’s out of his mind. I’m convinced he’s under a spell.”
A cheerful chuckle escapes my mother.
I turn my attention back to him, caught in the depth of his green eyes.
Those eyes—so familiar, aren’t they?
The kind that you could recognize in a crowd.
“I apologize again, Your Majesty and Your Highness. I’m Aurora, and this is Prince?—”
“Oh, I believe I know who he is,” my mother says delighted. “And he is not under a spell. He is just overwhelmed.”
My head is spinning, and confusion grips me as I struggle to make sense of the situation.
“There she is,” he whispers, almost reverently, as if he’s witnessed a miracle.
In the silence that follows, a delicate pink butterfly flutters into view. It flutters gracefully, almost in slow motion, before landing on my outstretched hand.
“Are you just going to ignore me, Princess?”
My eyes snap from the butterfly back to him.
He tilts his head slightly. “That’s quite rude, don’t you think?”
His gaze is steady, almost piercing…as if he’s trying to read something in my expression.
Slowly, there’s a smirk playing on his lips, one that seems to say he’s used to having the upper hand, used to making people tremble.
“Excuse me?” I break our stare, finally letting his words filter into my brain. “Who… Who are you?”