Page 84 of A Kingdom's Heart
The words surprised me. “You did that for me?”
“Of course,” he said. “You will be my wife soon. It is only right that this place feels like yours too.”
I looked down at my hands, unsure what to say. It felt strange to hear the wordwifespoken aloud. Strange, but real.
When I looked up again, he was still watching me, his expression gentle. “You do not need to be afraid,” he said quietly. “I know this is new. You do not have to like me yet.”
My chest tightened at that. “Yet?”
He smiled faintly. “I only ask for time.”
Something in his words made my shoulders ease, just a little. Not much, but enough to breathe without feeling like my chest might crack.
Maybe he was right. Maybe time would help.
Not yet. But soon. I had to like him. I had to know him. In less than a week, he would be my husband. That was reason enough to try.
I lifted my gaze to his again, trying to steady my voice. “You
said there was something you wanted to show me?”
He nodded, rising from the bed. “Yes. This.”
He crossed the room to a polished wardrobe near the window
and opened it. Candlelight glinted off silk as he drew something out and folded it carefully, the fabric smooth and dark. He turned and held it toward me.
It was a gown.
The color was the same as his chamber: navy blue with silver thread winding through the bodice and sleeves like fine vines. Tiny pearls caught the light, faint as stars.
I stood slowly, reaching out to touch it. The fabric was cool beneath my fingers. “It’s beautiful,” I murmured.
He smiled, clearly pleased. “I want you to wear it tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m taking you to one of our finest villages. It sits along the coast, not far from here. I want you to see Valebran for what it truly is. Its people, its streets, its food.” His eyes warmed slightly. “You will try our best breads, our pastries. I think you’ll like them.”
I glanced at the gown again. “And this is for that?”
“It is,” he said. “The colors are the royal shades of Valebran. I thought they would suit you.”
The candlelight caught the silver thread as I turned the fabric in my hands. It shimmered softly, almost alive in the light.
“I’ll wear it,” I said at last.
His smile deepened, quiet but genuine. “Good.”
He placed the gown carefully on the chair beside the bed,
smoothing the fabric as if it were something precious. Then he turned back to me and extended his arm.
“Come,” he said softly. “Let me take you to your bedchamber.”
I hesitated, just for a breath, before resting my hand lightly on his sleeve. His arm was firm beneath the fabric, his movements unhurried as he led me toward the door.
The corridor outside was dim and quiet. Only the faint sound of the sea drifted through the open arches, carrying the cool scent of salt and stone. We walked in silence, our footsteps echoing against the marble floor.
