Page 111 of A Kingdom's Heart
For a heartbeat, I thought about telling him. About William. About the way my heart beat faster every time I saw him, the way he looked at me like I was more than a crown. Maybe if Father knew, maybe if he heard me say I loved someone else, he would understand. But the look in his eyes stopped me. I knew he wouldn’t. To him, love was a luxury, not something worth risking kingdoms over.
He stood suddenly, the sound of his chair scraping across the stone echoing around us. His palm slammed against the wall, and the sound made me jump. “Your mother was just like you before she married me,” he said, his voice rough with anger. “She said she couldn’t marry me because she didn’t love me, because she didn’t know me. But she married me anyway.”
“That’s because she was forced—”
“No!” His voice cracked through the air like lightning. “Because she cared about her people. Because she knew her duty came before her heart. And guess what, Iris? After our marriage, she learned to love me. And I loved her deeply back. Just like you will
will with Lorenzo.”
I stared at him, the words sinking like stones in my stomach.Learned to love. As if love could be taught, as if it could be forced. He was wrong. I knew it in every part of me. My mother might have learned to love him, but that didn’t mean I could do the same.
“And what if I love someone else?” The words escaped me before I could stop them. They hung in the air, trembling between us. My voice shook, but I didn’t take them back. I couldn’t.
My father turned sharply. His eyes narrowed, cold and unreadable. “Unless it is a lord, a prince, or a duke, the marriage will continue anyway.”
My stomach sank. “And what if he isn’t?”
He stilled. His tone sharpened. “What are you saying?”
My throat tightened. I hesitated, but the words pushed out anyway. “What if he’s not one of them?”
The air grew tense, heavy. I could see something flicker in his eyes. “What are you trying to say, Iris?”
My heart pounded so fast it almost hurt. I could barely breathe. But I refused to stay silent. “I’m saying that I love someone.”
Silence. A deep, cold silence that made the room feel smaller. My father’s gaze hardened, his jaw set. “Are you saying you love someone?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
His voice dropped low. “Who?”
My hands trembled, but I straightened my back. “I’m not telling you.”
His tone rose. “I asked you a question.”
“And I’m not answering it.” My words came out shaky but loud enough to echo.
He took a slow step forward, then another, until he was standing directly in front of me. The space between us disappeared. I could smell the faint scent of wine on his breath, the heat of his anger pressing against my skin.
For a moment, I thought I should move back, bow my head or say sorry. But I didn’t. My legs wanted to buckle, yet I forced them still. He looked furious, but I met his eyes anyway. My hands were shaking, my throat tight, but I wouldn’t look away.
My mind raced. I thought about William. About the way he looked at me like I wasn’t a crown or a duty. About the way his voice softened when he said my name. I thought about how he held me like I was something worth protecting, not something owned.
I couldn’t tell my father his name, not yet. Not when I knew what he would do. But I also couldn’t let him believe I would marry a man I didn’t love. Not when my heart already belonged to someone else.
He took another step closer, his boots scraping against the stone
floor. His eyes were hard and sharp as steel. “I won’t ask again,” he said, his voice low but filled with warning. “Who?”
My breath caught in my throat. “I’m not telling you.”
For a moment, there was a heavy, unbearable silence. Then he began to laugh. A sound that sent a chill crawling up my spine. It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t amused. It was dark and cruel, the laughter of someone who already knew he held all the power.
“You’re such a fool,” he said, still laughing. “You really think I won’t find out? You think you can keep something like that from me?” His eyes flashed. “Iris, I will find out. And when I do, I’ll have his head. And you’ll still marry Lorenzo. So don’t play smart with me.”
My whole body trembled. I wanted to shout, to tell him he was wrong, but no sound came. My throat tightened, and all I could do was stare at him, my vision blurring.
“But,” he continued, stepping closer until the heat of his anger pressed against me, “if you tell me now, maybe I’ll show mercy. Maybe I’ll spare him a cruel death.”
