Page 78 of A Kingdom's Heart
We finished our meal in silence. When the last of the plates were cleared, he rose and offered me his arm.
I hesitated only for a moment before placing my hand on it.
“Shall we?” he asked.
I nodded, my voice caught somewhere between my chest and throat.
He led me toward the open doors of the hall, out into the bright light of the gardens, and I followed quietly, wishing I were anywhere else.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
WILLIAM
I followed them from a short distance, close enough to guard, far enough not to intrude. It was my duty, after all. Nothing more.
At least, that was what I kept telling myself.
The gardens were enormous, lined with fountains and marble statues, the air heavy with the scent of roses. Rows of them stretched as far as I could see; pink, red, white and yellow. The sea shimmered faintly beyond the trees, and sunlight fell over the petals like glass.
The prince’s hand rested at her waist as they walked.
My jaw tightened before I even realized it. The motion was instinct, not choice. I looked away quickly, fixing my gaze on the path ahead. On the gravel underfoot. On the sound of the sea beyond the trees. Anything but them.
I told myself it didn’t matter. That she didn’t matter. That this was duty, nothing more. But the words rang hollow in my head, fragile and false.
She looked nervous. Her shoulders were too straight, her steps too careful. Her fingers brushed the folds of her dress every few moments, like she was trying to steady herself. The prince, by contrast, looked perfectly at ease, his stride confident, his voicesmooth and steady as he spoke. He carried himself like a man used to being obeyed.
They stopped near a tall hedge of roses.
“So, my lady,” he said lightly, “which of these do you fancy most?”
Her eyes drifted over the colors, quiet and thoughtful. “The white ones,” she said softly.
The prince smiled, pleased. He plucked a single rose from the bush, brushing the thorns away with careful fingers before tucking it gently into her hair.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
She smiled faintly. It was polite, careful.
My fists clenched before I could stop them. The reaction came
sudden, sharp, almost unreasonable. The kind of anger that didn’t have a name. It wasn’t jealousy. It couldn’t be. I had no right to that.
And yet… it burned.
It burned to see her like that, standing in the sunlight with his hand so close to her face, her eyes lowered in a way I’d never seen before. It burned to realize how easily he could touch her when I could not.
I forced my hands to my sides, drawing a slow breath until the tension dulled, but it didn’t fade completely. The ache stayed, low and constant.
They began walking again. The prince’s laughter rose softly over the wind as he spoke, his words easy and practiced, meant to charm. She answered quietly, her voice smaller than usual, the warmth I knew replaced with something more careful.
“How old are you, my lord?” she asked after a pause.
“Nineteen,” he said with a grin. “And you?”
“Seventeen.”
He nodded, pleased by her answer, as though it confirmed something he’d already decided. He kept talking, his voice smooth and steady. He was a year younger than me.
