Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Eirabella
After what feels like an endless combat session a few days after the queen’s luncheon, I’m about to stumble, exhausted, from the training room when Rylan appears in the doorway, dressed in a royal blue jacket and trousers outfit that makes his dark eyes pop right out of his ridiculously handsome head.
“Would you like to go for a walk? Get out of this damn castle for a bit?” he asks.
I blink in surprise but nod quickly as if afraid he’ll change his mind. “I’d love to. But I need to freshen up a bit.”
“I’ll be in the courtyard,” he replies with a small, almost boyish smile.
When I reach the courtyard half an hour later wearing a flowing skirt and lace corset outfit made of the leftover fabric from the dress I’d worn to the queen’s luncheon, Rylan is waiting, two King’s Guards standing a respectful distance behind him. His eyes sweep over me, and for a moment, his usual composure slips, replaced by a look of genuine appreciation that makes my heart skip a beat. I can feel my cheeks warm under his gaze, and a familiar flutter stirs in my chest.
He steps forward and offers me his arm. “Shall we?”
I slip my hand into the crook of his arm, the warmth of his body instantly enveloping me. The connection feels intimate, almost too much, but I don’t pull away. I wonder if he notices—if he can feel the same tension that’s humming between us.
After a few moments, I finally gather the courage to ask, “So, what made you decide to invite me on this walk? It’s not every day the crown prince extends such a casual offer.”
Rylan glances at me with a teasing smile. “I needed to stretch my legs, and after how tired you usually are after training, it seemed like a good time, seeing as you’d be unlikely to run away.”
I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, the flattery. Maybe if I find the company adequate, I’ll refrain from trying to escape today.”
“Well, then I’m in trouble,” he jokes. “But, seriously, I don’t have the energy to chase you down today. Have some pity on your prince.”
“We’ll see. But really, why the walk?” I ask, hoping he’ll give me something more than just a casual response.
He guides me down the path toward the sound of the town square. “I try to walk around the city at least once a week when I’m in the capital. You can’t really know what’s happening in a place unless you’re standing in it, listening to what people are saying, seeing it with your own eyes, feeling the air.”
I tilt my head playfully. “So, less about fresh air and more about royal surveillance?”
“Exactly,” he deadpans, though a grin breaks through. “But I promise, no eavesdropping today. Just a prince on his rare afternoon off.”
We stroll past small shops, and surprisingly, Rylan greets a few of the townspeople by name. In fact, the closer we get into the town centre, the harder it becomes to move more than a few steps at a time before he’s stopped. That’s when I remember the day we’d ridden through town that first day and the crowds had parted for him and the guards. I thought they’d been bowing to the royal emblem on Grellor’s and Yosef’s guard uniforms, but they’d all been bowing to Rylan because they knew who he was. I was the only one who hadn’t known.
As we walk by a small bakery, the smell of fresh bread wafts out of the door, making my stomach growl, loudly enough that Rylan raises an eyebrow.
“I heard that,” he says with a smirk. “Hungry?”
“Just appreciating the... ambiance,” I reply quickly, trying not to laugh, though the sound of his voice and the way he’s looking at me make it difficult to concentrate on anything else.
He grins and turns to the baker, who’s just stepped outside with a broad smile. “Your Highness! Always a pleasure.”
Rylan greets him warmly, asking about his family and the business. The baker, clearly delighted by the attention, insists on giving us a loaf of his best bread. Rylan tries to refuse, but the baker won’t hear of it, pressing the paper bag wrapped warm loaf into his hands.
“Free bread?” I joke as we walk away. “Ah, I see your true motives now. This walk was really just a ruse to get some baked goods.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “You caught me. The crown prince’s true power? Never paying for bread.”
“You should put that on the royal crest,” I say with a grin. “‘Prince Rylan—Keeper of Bread Discounts.’ ”
“Oh, I like that. It sounds noble but functional,” he teases, winking.
There’s something about the way he looks at me, the way his smile lingers, that makes my heart flutter in a way that’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
In the bustle of the shopping crowds, an elderly vendor gets pushed to the ground. I drop Rylan’s arm and rush ahead to help her to her feet. She’s gifting me an appreciative pat on the arm when Rylan catches up to us. She beams at him, her wrinkled face lighting up as he asks about her health and business. I watch as he tries to buy a small bouquet of wildflowers, which she insists on giving to him for nothing. Then, with a playful bow, he hands the bouquet to me.
“For you, milady,” he says, his eyes twinkling.
I laugh, taking the flowers, my fingers brushing against his as I do. The touch sends a tiny jolt through me, and I wonder if he feels it too. “Is this how you charm all the ladies? Free bread and flowers?”
“Only the pretty ones,” he replies smoothly, though I catch the slight colour rising to his cheeks.
“Pretty, huh?” I glance at the flowers and then back at him. “You’re really pulling out all the stops today.”
“I took your threat to run seriously,” he says with a cocked brow, his eyes holding mine for just a beat longer than usual, and it’s enough to make my breath hitch. Then he adds with an exaggerated shrug, “It also helps you no longer smell of wet horse.”
I hit him with the flowers and he laughs as he jogs ahead to the next stall. It’s a familiar one, and Rylan stops and picks up a scarf—a deep teal one, much like the one Mathis had shown me the day he’d come with me. He holds it up, inspecting it with a thoughtful expression .
“These remind me of your eyes,” he says softly, his teasing tone giving way to something more sincere.
I blink in surprise but manage to laugh. “Mathis said the same thing. Are all of you trained to say that?”
His smile falters for a brief moment, and I notice a flitter of jealousy cross his face. He recovers quickly, his charming mask slipping into place within seconds.
Before I can dive too deeply into what I saw, a figure suddenly bumps roughly into Rylan, nearly knocking him off balance. The man, clearly agitated, mutters a curse under his breath, apparently not realising who he’s just collided with. But when he looks up, recognition dawns, and his expression twists from annoyance to anger, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
For a brief, tense moment, I see the man’s hand twitch as if he’s about to reach for something. My heart skips a beat, and before I can react, Rylan’s arm moves swiftly, moving me behind him in a protective gesture. His two guards step forward, their hands on their swords, ready to intervene, but Rylan holds up a hand, signalling them to wait.
The man stares at Rylan, his face contorted with a mixture of fury and fear. “Curse the king,” he spits, his voice thick with venom. “Curse the whole royal family. And especially, curse you, Prince Rylan. One day, you’ll all get what’s coming to you.”
The guards tense, ready to subdue the man, but Rylan’s calm voice cuts through the tension. “If you have something else to say, please, sir, say it,” he says, his tone steady but commanding, though I can feel the protective energy radiating from him, his body still shielding mine.
The man glares at him, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. He lifts his hand in a fist, a tattoo of a dagger covering his thick wrist. “Greed is always punished. You and your kind... you think you can take and take, but one day, you’ll pay for your sins. The people won’t stand for it forever. Light always triumphs over dark. Your time is coming. Long live the rebellion! Love live the Nira’th Darin!”
His words hang in the air like an ominous cloud, and then, without another word, he turns and stalks away, disappearing into the crowd. I stand there, my pulse racing, the man’s anger and the sudden shift in Rylan’s demeanour leaving me shaken. There’s a lingering sense of danger, and I realise just how quickly things can change, how vulnerable we really are.
By the look on the faces of the onlookers, half in shock, half in awe, the loathing directed towards the royal family isn’t rare. Had all it taken was a few weeks living in the royal castle to remember the plight of the common people? How my own friends and fellow villagers were just scraping by for a full meal once a day while the king and queen ate off gold plates?
I wrap my arms around my body, feeling torn about what I’ve just seen, and also protective over Rylan, and how close he was to getting hurt.
As if noticing my discomfort, he gently leads me to a bench in a quieter spot in the bustling square, his hand resting lightly on my back, the warmth of his touch both calming and electrifying. He crouches in front of me, pulling his cloak to billow out from his shoulder, as if he’s drawing a line between us and the rest of the world, a line that no one can cross.
“Are you all right?” he asks, his voice full of concern, his eyes searching mine.
I nod, though I’m not sure if I really am. “I’m not the one you should be worried about. Does that happen often?”
“More often than you might think,” he admits, his expression serious. “But it’s my role to listen to them, especially when they criticise me. It’s important to know how the people feel about us, even if it’s hard to hear.”
I shake my head in amazement, a mix of admiration and confusion swirling within me. “You just stand there and let them yell at you? That takes some self-control. The things he said…” How do I tell Rylan that the rebel had a point without it sounding like I condoned his threats?
He smiles, though there’s a sadness behind it. “It’s not about control. It’s about honestly listening. People are angry for a reason, and if I don’t understand that reason, how can I ever make things right?”
I sigh, my admiration for him growing. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not,” he says, his voice quieter now. “But it’s necessary.”
I smile softly, then tease, “You know, for a prince, you’re surprisingly normal.”
“Normal? Is that supposed to be a compliment?” He raises an eyebrow, his playful tone making my heart flutter again. I love when he’s like this.
“Definitely,” I laugh, trying to keep the mood light despite the undercurrent of emotions tugging at me. “Most princes don’t go around getting free bread and letting people insult them in the street.”
“And pray tell, who are these other princes you’ve been spending time with? The same ones you think have royal spectres rammed up their behinds?” he replies with a wink, and the way he looks at me makes my breath catch in my throat.
I laugh again, but the levity fades as I look at him—really look at him. The man who just stood there, protecting me, listening to hatred and threats flung at him without flinching. There’s so much more to Rylan than I ever imagined, and with that realisation comes a rush of feelings I’m not sure how to handle.
“Rylan,” I begin, my voice soft, almost hesitant. “Don’t you ever wish you were just an ordinary man? No crown, no duties?”
He looks at me, his expression softening as he considers the question. For a moment, he’s silent, and I wonder if I’ve pushed too far. But then he gives me a small, wistful smile.
“Sometimes,” he admits, his voice quiet, and there’s a vulnerability there that tugs at something deep within me. “But I don’t think I could ever truly be normal. My life, my blood, is tied to this kingdom and its people. Even if I wanted to walk away, I’m not sure I’d know how. I have always lived and died to protect them. And I can’t see that ever changing.” His words hang between us, heavy with meaning. And then he adds, “But sometimes, yes, I wish I were anyone but me. And all the things that come with being me. It makes the possibility of some things I want… impossible.”
“Like what?” I can’t imagine there could be anything he could want more than what he has.
He stares at me, and then just shrugs. “What about you, future Aquilith?” he deflects, “do you ever wish you were someone you aren’t?”
I take his arm and lead him back to the activity of the town square. “Right now, I just want to be someone with a fried pastry in my hand, and I think I’m with just the man who can make that happen.”
He laughs.