Page 25 of A Kingdom's Heart
My mother had died the night I was born. The world had taken her before she even had the chance to hold me. The servants raised me instead, women with tired eyes and calloused hands who came and went as the years passed. They were kind enough, but never close. I was never truly theirs, and they were never truly mine.
I reached my chambers, the corridor dim and quiet. The guards outside bowed as I entered. Inside, the air was cool and still. The fire had burned low in the hearth, filling the room with a faint orange glow.
I untied the headband from my hair and set it on the table beside the mirror. My reflection stared back: pale skin, tired eyes, and the faint mark still red on my cheek.
For a moment, I just stood there, listening to the soft crackle of the fire. Then I turned away from the mirror and sat on the edge of the bed. The silence pressed close, heavy but familiar.
I let out a slow breath and closed my eyes.
Tomorrow would come, and with it, the weight of duty again.
For now, at least, there was quiet.
CHAPTER NINE
WILLIAM
The morning came cold and still.
The barracks were already stirring when I opened my eyes. Metal clanked against metal. Boots scuffed the floor. Voices ros and fell. The familiar smell of oil leather hung in the air, though it still hadn’t settled into comfort.
My bed was in the far corner, away from the noise. Straw mattress, thin blanket, enough to sleep, nothing more.
I sat up slowly, careful with my shoulder. The bandage itched beneath my tunic.
Elara’s work.
She’d wrapped it clean and tight, warning me not to strain it for a few days. I’d agreed, though I already knew I’d break that promise before noon.
The pain was dull, manageable, but the thought of tearing it open again made me curse under my breath.
Across the room, Eric was already up. Blond hair sticking up in every direction, armor half strapped, grinning like he’d won a battle before dawn.
“Morning, sir,” he said, fastening his belt. “I was starting to
“Morning, sir,” he said, fastening his belt. “I was starting to think you died in your sleep.”
“Not yet,” I muttered, pulling on my boots.
I reached for my sword, slinging it over my shoulder. The weight pulled at the wound, sharp enough to make me wince.
Eric noticed. “You all right?”
“Fine,” I said. “Just need to be careful.”
He nodded toward my shoulder. “The healer’s bandages holding up?”
I hesitated. “They are.” My hands moved on the leather strap while my mind kept going to the steady press of the cloth on my skin. Elara’s face slipped into my head and the way she spoke, and the calm in her hands. The memory stayed longer than I had any right to let it.
Eric didn’t notice. He was too busy talking, too full of energy for the hour. “Captain said we ride north,” he said. “The farms near the ridge. There’s talk of unrest. Nothing serious, probably some drunk men shouting about taxes.”
“Probably,” I replied, but the words were thin. My thoughts were elsewhere. I pictured the men who’d ambushed me with their blades. I promised myself if I ever saw them again I would make them regret it. The oath felt hot in my chest.
Still, a part of me acknowledged another truth I did not want to
admit. If they had not followed me that night, I would have never been in a healer’s tent. I would never have felt her hand steady on my shoulder. I would not have known she worked behind these quiet stone walls, close enough for me to see her again. The
thought came with an odd twist of gratitude I could not swallow whole.
