Page 48 of A Kingdom's Heart
No servants. No guards. Just the hush of the night.
I stepped inside, my fingers brushing the edge of one table as I passed. The wood felt cool beneath my touch. A half loaf of bread sat on a tray, forgotten. I reached for it, more out of habit than hunger.
The air shifted.
It wasn’t loud, just the faintest sound at first, leather against
stone. Slow, deliberate steps. Heavy enough to belong to armor.
My breath caught. My hand froze mid-reach. The quiet suddenly felt too deep, like the room itself was holding its breath with me.
“Elara?”
The sound of my false name broke the silence. His voice was low, steady, unmistakable.
My pulse stumbled. I turned slowly toward the sound.
He stood near the edge of the shadows, his armor catching what little light there was. His helm was still on, the metal dull in the fire’s glow, but I didn’t need to see his face. I knew that stance. That voice. That stillness.
William.
My chest tightened. The room felt smaller all at once. I tried to steady my breathing, to sound calm even as my pulse thudded hard in my throat. “What are you doing here?”
He stepped closer, the metal of his boots soft against the stone. His voice came even beneath the helm. “The captain ordered me to patrol the kitchens tonight. Make sure everything’s in order.” He paused, his head tilting slightly. “And you? What are you doing in the castle this late?”
My throat went dry. “Oh, I—uh—sleep here,” I said quickly. “In the barracks. With the other healers. Yeah.”
The words tumbled out far too fast. Saints, it was such a terrible lie. I could almost hear Raven groaning in my head.
I forced a smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice how nervous I sounded. “I came here to find something to eat. The captain said it was alright.”
He shifted slightly, the faint sound of armor moving breaking the quiet. “The captain said that?”
“Yes,” I said, nodding too quickly. “He... he knows how much I work.”
There was a moment of silence. I could feel his eyes on me through the narrow slit of his helm. The longer it went on, the warmer my cheeks felt.
Finally, he spoke. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”
My breath caught. “What?”
He took a step closer, his tone softer now. “You start talking too fast when you’re hiding something.”
I stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or run. “I’m not hiding anything,” I managed.
“Right,” he said, the faintest hint of a smile in his voice. “Then I suppose I should let you eat before you faint from all the honest work.”
The corner of my mouth lifted despite myself. “Maybe you should.”
He reached past me, grabbed a small loaf from the counter, and held it out. “Here.”
I hesitated before taking it, my fingers brushing the cool edge of
his gauntlet. “Thank you.”
He nodded once. “You’re welcome.”
I took a small bite, the bread soft and faintly sweet on my tongue. The silence pressed around us, gentle but full.
