Page 36 of A Kingdom's Heart
“If you’d like,” he said simply.
The space between us felt smaller suddenly, filled only by the sound of the water and the faint rustle of the pages. My hands were clasped in my lap, but my fingers wouldn’t stay still. I could feel my pulse in them.
I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’d like that.”
He turned the pages slowly, his thumb tracing the worn edges as
if they were something delicate. The breeze tugged gently at the paper, and the sunlight shifted across the book.
Then his voice filled the quiet.
“Once there was a farmer’s son named Mike, who loved the queen of his land more than the sun loved the day.”
The words were simple, but the way he read them made them sound like something more. His tone was steady, almost reverent, as if the story meant as much to him as it did to me.
My breath caught, though I tried not to show it. “Mike was a fool,” I said softly. “He knew loving her would cost him everything.”
William looked up at me then. His brown eyes caught the light, turning them amber. “Maybe. Or maybe he just did not care what it cost.”
Something inside me shifted. My chest tightened, and I turned
my gaze back to the river before he could see the color rising in my face. The water moved slow and silver beneath the sun.
“He should have cared,” I said softly. “Love like that never ends well.”
He didn’t speak at once. The sound of the river filled the pause, quiet but constant. Then gently he said, “Maybe it’s not about how it ends. Maybe it’s about having it at all.”
The words sank deep, stirring something I didn’t want to name. My throat felt tight, my fingers curling against the edge of the
swing. For a moment, neither of us looked away.
Then he turned another page.
“The queen, whose name was Elara, wept beneath the willow, for she loved him too, though her crown forbade it.”
Hearing my false name spoken like that made something twist inside me. It was only a story, yet it felt too close, too raw.
I looked down at my hands, tracing the lines of my fingers as if that could steady me. “That part always hurts the most,” I said quietly.
William’s gaze lingered on me for a moment before he closed the book gently. “Then maybe we’ll stop there.”
The silence that followed was fragile, like a thread pulled tight between us. The water whispered over the stones, and a bird called from somewhere deep in the trees. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, quick and uneven.
I didn’t know what to do with the quiet, so I filled it. “Why didn’t you go to Branhollow with Eric?” My voice came softer than I meant it to. “Won’t the captain be angry?”
He leaned back slightly, one hand resting on the book in his lap. “He’ll only be angryifhe finds out,” he said, calm and certain. “And he won’t.”
I frowned, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at my lips. “You sound too sure of that.”
He looked at me then, eyes warm, almost playful. “Because it’s
worth the risk.”
The words hung there, quiet but heavy.
My chest tightened and suddenly breathing became difficult. “Worth it?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
He nodded. “I wanted to get to know you better.”
