Page 37 of A Kingdom's Heart
For a heartbeat, the air seemed to stop moving. My fingers curled around the edge of the swing, the rope rough against my palms. I didn’t know where to look. The ground. The river. Anywhere but at him.
No one had ever said something like that to me before. No one had ever risked anything for me. Not the captain’s anger, not even a word of defiance against my father.
But would he risk that too? Would he still look at me this way if he knew who I really was? The king’s daughter. The girl locked behind stone walls. The one who lied about her name and title.
The thought made my chest ache. I looked at the river, its surface bright and shifting, and spoke before I could stop myself. “You shouldn’t risk your captain’s anger for me. No one has ever done that before.”
He turned his head, studying me in silence. Then the corner of his mouth lifted. “Then I’ll be the first.”
Something in my chest sank at his words, heavy and sharp with guilt. He didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know what he was risking, or who for.
“Maybe you shouldn’t,” I said quietly.
He watched me for a moment, the smile fading into something softer. “Maybe I should.”
Before I could respond, he rose from the swing. The wood creaked beneath the sudden stillness. He stepped behind me, his boots brushing through the grass. I turned slightly, unsure what he meant to do, but he only rested one hand against the back of the swing.
“Hold on,” he said.
The ropes tightened. Then the swing began to move.
Slow at first. The air brushed against my skin, cool and light. My hair lifted with the wind and brushed across my face. I gripped the ropes tighter, my pulse quickening as the motion grew. The rhythm carried me forward, weightless for a heartbeat before gravity pulled me back again.
The river shimmered below, sunlight glinting over the surface. I laughed once, softly. The sound barely left my lips.
He pushed again, gentler this time. “You like this place,” he said behind me.
I nodded, still catching my breath. “I used to come here all the time. Before…” I stopped.
He didn’t ask me to finish the sentence. Thank God he didn’t.
Instead, his voice came quiet behind me. “I remember when you were at my house, you said it’s been years since you held a copy
of this book.”
I looked down at the ground moving slowly beneath my feet. “Yes. I first found it in the library. I must have read it a hundred times before I lost it. But I still remember every line.”
The swing slowed. He caught the ropes and steadied them until I stopped. Then he stepped around to face me. The book was still in his hands.
“Then keep this one,” he said.
I blinked. “What?”
He smiled, soft and certain. “You might as well. My parents read it to me more times than I can count. I know it by heart too.”
The sunlight slipped through the trees, touching his hair and the edge of his armor. For a moment I could not find words. My throat felt tight. My pulse still hadn’t settled.
“I can’t take that,” I said finally. “It’s yours.”
He met my eyes. The smile faded into something gentler. “Please,” he said. “I want you to have it.”
I hesitated, my fingers brushing the cover. The leather was warm from his hands. “Are you sure?”
“I am,” he said, his tone steady, certain in a way that made my chest ache.
I looked at the river to steady myself. “Then how will you read it?” I asked quietly.
He thought for a moment, eyes on the water as if the answer
