Page 74 of A Kingdom's Heart
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
WILLIAM
The ship loomed ahead, its sails tall and heavy against the night sky. Torches lined the dock, their flames bending with the wind. The air smelled of salt and iron, and the creak of ropes filled the silence.
The king boarded first, flanked by his guards. I followed behind, keeping a careful distance until it was my turn to help her.
I reached out my hand. She hesitated for a moment before placing hers in mine. Her skin was soft, cold from the night air. I helped her up, steadying her as she climbed the narrow plank, and then stepped back as quickly as I could.
I didn’t enjoy it. And I made sure she could tell. Whatever we had, whatever it was, it had to end here. The secret meetings. The laughter by the river. The quiet moments that felt like more than they should have been. All of it.
Still, it hurt.
But what choice did I have? She was the princess. The king’s daughter. And I was a knight, sworn to serve her, not care for her. She belonged to a world far above mine, a world of crowns and alliances, not promises whispered beneath trees.
The ship rocked as it began to move, cutting through the dark water. The stars reflected faintly on the waves. By sunrise, we
would reach Valebran.
I led her below deck to her chamber. The room was small but warm, lit by a single lantern that swayed with the movement of the ship. A narrow bed was fixed to the wall, draped with plain sheets. A wooden barrel stood beside it, serving as a table, and the
the floorboards groaned beneath our steps.
She placed the book on the barrel and lay down without a word. The faint light touched her face, soft and tired.
I stayed by the doorway, sword at my side, the sound of the waves steady in my ears.
I told myself I was watching the room. But the truth was, my eyes never left hers.
—
Light began to spill through the small cracks in the wood, thin and pale at first, then warmer as the sun climbed higher. The steady sound of waves against the hull softened into a calm rhythm.
She stirred. Her lashes fluttered, slow and soft, like she was caught between dreams and waking. I straightened at once, though I hadn’t closed my eyes all night.
For hours, I’d been sitting there, watching, waiting, telling myself to look away. To rest. To forget. But I couldn’t.
She looked peaceful like that. Too peaceful. Her hair had fallen loose across the pillow, the faint rise and fall of her chest steady
and even. The kind of calm that doesn’t last.
It hurt to watch her.
It shouldn’t have. I told myself that more than once. She had lied. She had broken trust that shouldn’t have been given in the first place. And yet, none of that mattered when I looked at her now. The sight of her breathing softly in that narrow bed hurt more than any wound I’d ever taken.
Because I knew the moment she woke, that peace would vanish. She would remember where we were going. What waited for her on the other side of the sea. She would remember that she wasn’t the girl I met by the river anymore, but a princess promised to another man.
Her eyes opened slowly, catching the first thin touch of light. She blinked once, twice, the confusion fading as she turned her head toward me.
For a heartbeat, our gazes met. Then I looked away, too quickly. I fixed my eyes on the window, on the pale horizon stretching over the waves. The sea was calm now, smooth and endless, but inside me the storm hadn’t quieted. It hadn’t even begun to fade.
The door opened suddenly, letting in a rush of light and movement. Servants stepped inside, their arms full of fabric and silver. One of them bowed quickly.
“His Majesty sent us,” she said. “He wishes for her to look her best when meeting the prince.”
I stepped back to give them room. They moved efficiently, speaking in soft tones as they held up a gown of pale pink and white. The silk shimmered faintly in the lantern light, delicate and fine.
The princess. No, Iris rose without a word. She slipped out of
