Chapter 19 #2
I glanced at Perock, my maternal instincts on high alert, my gaze searching his for any hint of ulterior motive. “Is it safe, Your Majesty?” I asked, my voice firm, protective.
He stood, meeting my gaze directly, his expression solemn, his voice steady with conviction. “I swear on my life, I’ll keep her safe,” he said, his words carrying the weight of an oath. “If there’s any danger, I’ll protect her with everything I have, Princess.”
His sincerity was unmistakable, his eyes free of deceit, and despite my doubts, I couldn’t ignore the truth in his words.
Nor could I deny the softness in his gaze whenever he looked at Anna, a warmth that seemed instinctive, uncalculated, a tenderness that stirred a reluctant trust in me.
It wasn’t an act, I realized—he genuinely cared for her, a care that felt as natural as breathing.
“Alright,” I said, nodding reluctantly, my heart heavy with the decision. “But I’ll be there the entire time, watching.”
The riding arena was closer than I’d expected, nestled on the palace’s western side, a sandy enclosure designed specifically for children, its soft ground cushioned to prevent injury, surrounded by sturdy wooden fences painted a cheerful white.
The air smelled of hay and sun-warmed earth, a comforting, grounding scent.
A small chestnut pony stood ready, its mane braided with care, a padded saddle fitted snugly on its back, its dark eyes calm and curious.
“This is Berry,” Perock said, taking the reins and patting the pony’s flank with a gentle hand, his voice warm with affection. “The gentlest soul in our royal stables, perfect for a brave rider like you.”
Anna reached out, her small hand stroking Berry’s nose, giggling as the pony nuzzled her palm, clearly taken with her, its soft muzzle tickling her skin. “She’s so cute!” she said, beaming, her face alight with joy.
“Ready to try?” Perock asked, his tone encouraging, his eyes bright with anticipation. “I’ll lead her, so you won’t fall. We’ll go nice and slow.”
Anna nodded eagerly, bouncing on her toes, her excitement infectious.
I stood at the pony’s side, my nerves taut as Perock lifted her onto the saddle, his hands steady and careful, adjusting her posture with a patience I hadn’t expected from Perock.
He guided her hands to the reins, showing her how to hold them, his voice calm but firm.
“Sit up straight, eyes forward,” he instructed, his tone gentle yet authoritative. “That’s it, you’re doing great, Anna.”
Anna’s face lit up with pride, her small hands gripping the reins tightly as Perock led Berry in a slow, deliberate circle around the arena.
She was tense at first, her body stiff—Berry was larger than Star, a new challenge for her small frame—but she followed his guidance, her confidence growing with each step, her posture relaxing as she found her balance.
Despite my worry, I couldn’t help but smile as Anna adapted, her determination shining through. When she mimicked Perock’s commands with a gleeful “Giddy-up!” her voice ringing with delight, a swell of pride warmed my chest, easing the tension that had gripped me.
Perock caught my eye, his smile warm, unguarded, free of the triumph or calculation I’d feared.
It was the smile of a man simply enjoying a child’s happiness, not a king scheming for advantage.
“She’s a natural,” he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration, his eyes lingering on Anna with a pride that mirrored my own.
“Riding is a vital skill in our kingdom, a tradition passed down through generations. She’s already showing remarkable talent for her age. ”
“Is she?” I asked softly, my voice tinged with a bittersweet awareness. Her skill likely came from him, her father’s blood flowing through her veins, his innate grace and strength manifesting in her small, fearless form.
“She has a fearless heart,” Perock said, nodding, his gaze warm as he watched her. Then he turned to Anna, his tone playful. “Little princess, want to go a bit faster?”
“Yes!” Anna cheered, her amber eyes gleaming in the sunlight, so like Perock’s in their intensity, their golden glow catching the light in a way that stole my breath.
He chuckled, a low, warm sound, and urged Berry into a gentle trot, Anna’s delighted squeals echoing through the arena as she bounced in the saddle, her smile radiant, her hair bouncing with each step.
I walked alongside, my eyes never leaving her, my hands ready to catch her if needed, but Perock’s careful handling reassured me, his focus entirely on her safety and joy.
Watching them, I noticed how Perock didn’t press Anna for more than she was ready for, how he let her set the pace, his attention wholly devoted to her comfort.
He wasn’t pushing to claim her, wasn’t probing her origins or seeking to uncover her secrets.
Instead, he was earning her trust naturally, with kindness and patience, qualities I hadn’t seen in him five years ago, when his pride had blinded him to those around him.
After about half an hour, Anna’s energy began to wane, her posture slumping slightly, her eyelids drooping despite her efforts to stay alert.
I stepped forward to help her down, my arms outstretched, but Perock was faster, lifting her gently from the saddle with a care that spoke of instinct, his voice warm with praise.
“You’re the most talented young rider I’ve ever seen,” he said, ruffling her hair with a gentle hand, his smile broad and genuine.
Anna giggled, impulsively hugging his arm, her shyness melting away under his warmth. “Thank you, Your Majesty!” she said, her voice bright, her face flushed with pride.
“There’s no need for formalities—just call me Perock,” he replied with a warm, reassuring tone, his demeanor kind and approachable.
Then, turning to me with a respectful nod, he continued, “Princess Lilia, if you’ll permit me, I’d like to invite you and young Princess Anna to join me for lunch tomorrow.
I know of a lovely gazebo in the gardens with a breathtaking view—it would be the perfect spot for a picnic.
” His invitation was sincere, his eyes reflecting a genuine desire to spend time with us.
I hesitated, my instincts warring—caution urging me to keep my distance, Anna’s hopeful gaze tugging at my heart, her joy a weight I couldn’t ignore. “We’d be honored,” I said finally, unable to refuse her, my voice steady despite the doubts swirling within.
On the walk back to our chambers, Anna skipped beside me, her small hand in mine, chattering animatedly about Berry, about how she’d trotted “so fast!” and how Perock had called her a natural.
Her joy was so pure, so untainted, that it warmed me even as my fears lingered, a quiet undercurrent beneath her laughter.
Over the next few days, we spent a lot of time with Perock.
Picnics, painting, walks, horseback riding…
Anna looked forward to these activities every day, and Perock always found new ways to make her happy.
He told her stories of royal history, taught her to identify various plants in the palace gardens, and even crafted a small wooden carriage model for her with his own hands.
I found myself gradually letting down my guard, starting to enjoy this family time. Watching Anna learn to ride a horse under Perock’s guidance, seeing her listen intently to his stories, and witnessing the unspoken understanding between them—all of it softened my heart.
One night. The moonlight spilled through the window at night, casting dappled shadows on the floor.
“Mom?” Anna’s soft voice startled me awake. I turned to see her standing by the bed, clutching her beloved little wolf plushie.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I sat up, lifting the covers for her to climb in.
Anna snuggled into my arms, her small face pressed against my chest.
“Did you have a nightmare?” I gently stroked her back.
“No,” she shook her head, her voice quiet.
Anna had grown used to sleeping on her own, so for her to come to me like this, something must be on her mind. A sense of unease I didn’t want to face stirred in me, but I didn’t rush her to close her eyes. I just waited.
Until she looked up, her amber eyes shimmering in the darkness, and voiced her true thoughts: “Mommy, why can’t we stay with King Perock forever?”
The question made my heart skip a beat.
“Because,” I chose my words carefully, “we’re from different kingdoms. Once the alliance is signed, we have to go home.”
“But I like it here,” Anna said softly. “I like King Perock, too. He’s fun, and he tells so many stories. And…” She hesitated, her voice growing even quieter, “and I feel like he really likes me, like…”
“Like what?”
“Like a dad likes his daughter,” Anna blinked a few times, trying to hold back tears. “I don’t have a dad, do I? Other kids have dads, but I don’t.”
Her tone was filled with loneliness, so different from her usual cheerful self.
I swallowed my guilt and gently hugged her. “You do have a dad, Anna. It’s just… he can’t be with us.”
“Why?” she pressed. “Where is he? Doesn’t he love us?”
My throat tightened, and I didn’t know how to answer. For five years, whenever Anna asked about her father, I’d always been vague, saying only that he was a brave warrior who couldn’t be with us. But now, facing those eyes so strikingly similar to Perock’s, I felt an overwhelming weight.
“He loves you, Anna,” I finally said, my voice choking. “He just… doesn’t know you exist.”
Anna was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, “I think King Perock would be a good dad.”
My heart jolted. “Why do you say that?”
“Because he’s so nice to me,” Anna answered innocently. “And the way he looks at me, it’s like how you look at me. Full of love.”
I was at a loss for words, only able to pull her into my arms and let her rest against my chest. Soon, she fell asleep, her breathing steady and even.
But I lay awake, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
Anna’s words echoed in my mind.
I thought of the smiles on her face when she was with Perock, and the cautious way she had just asked if we could stay with him forever.
A bitter sense of guilt crept into my heart—I had deprived her of five years with her father.
She had felt Perock’s love, the kind of fatherly affection that didn’t need words to be expressed.
Could I trust him? The question hung heavy, I knew I couldn’t avoid forever.
It's a kind of decision that would shape not just my future, but hers—the daughter whose happiness meant more to me than my own heart.