Page 109 of A Kingdom's Heart
I stood there for a moment longer after the servants left. The room was quiet, yet my heart was not. It pounded so hard it hurt. The thought of tomorrow, of vows and ceremony, pressed down on me until I could barely breathe.
Then the door opened again.
I turned, startled, and saw Lorenzo step inside. He held a small mug in his hand, steam rising faintly from it. His smile was calm, too calm, as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of my bed.
“Tomorrow,” he said, his tone light, “our kingdoms will finally be united.”
He slipped an arm around my shoulders. I stiffened at his touch, my breath caught somewhere in my throat.
He held out the mug toward me. “Drink this.”
I looked down at it, uncertain. “What is it?”
He smiled, as though the answer were obvious. “A tea with a special herb. Every queen and princess in Valebran drinks this before her wedding night. It ensures she bears a son.”
My eyes widened. “A son?” I repeated quietly.
“Yes,” he said. “When you drink this, you secure our future. Our heir. My mother drank this before she married my father, and not long after, she bore me.”
I could barely find my voice. The steam from the mug curled between us, sweet but bitter in scent. My stomach turned.
He looked at me expectantly, smiling, but all I could feel was the fear growing in my chest.
When he noticed I wasn’t moving, his smile thinned. Slowly, he lifted the mug closer until the rim brushed my lips.
“Drink,” he said.
I froze. The scent of the liquid turned in my stomach. My body refused to move, my hands trembling slightly at my sides.
“Lorenzo,” I said, my voice unsteady. “I just need to step out for a moment.”
His expression changed in an instant. “I’m sure nothing is more important than securing an heir,” he said sharply.
Before I could take a step back, he moved closer. His hand came up behind my neck, the other still holding the mug. “Drink,” he
repeated, firmer this time.
I shook my head, panic rising. “Please—”
He didn’t listen. The mug pressed against my mouth, the bitter liquid spilling past my lips. I tried to turn away, to spit it out, but his grip tightened. He clamped his hand over my mouth, forcing me to swallow. The taste was sharp and metallic, burning as it went down.
When I finally gasped for breath, he lowered the cup, his eyes calm again as if nothing had happened. “Good,” he said quietly.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” Lorenzo said calmly, as if nothing had just happened.
He set the empty mug on the table and walked to the door. His steps were steady, quiet, and deliberate. The door closed behind him with a soft click that felt far too gentle for what he had done.
I stood there frozen. My throat burned from the taste of the drink, and my heart beat so hard it made my chest ache. The room felt smaller, colder. I wanted to move, to scream, but I couldn’t.
I didn’t want this. Not the gown. Not the vows. Not the man. None of it.
Tomorrow. The word echoed in my mind. Only one day left. One
day until I was no longer free. One day until I married someone I didn’t love.
I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady my breathing. My heart belonged to someone else. It always would. The thought
made my throat tighten.
