Page 91 of A Kingdom's Heart
the wine. It’s from our vineyards.”
I gave a small smile, lifting the cup to my lips. “It’s lovely.”
He looked pleased, and I looked back to my food, pretending to eat, pretending everything was fine. But the hollow ache in my chest stayed. It always did.
When the meal ended, the kings were still talking, their voices rumbling over the clatter of plates. Lorenzo wiped his mouth with a napkin, then stood and turned to me with a smile.
“Allow me to walk you to your bedchamber,” he said.
I nodded, setting my napkin down. “Of course.”
He placed a hand at the small of my back, guiding me gently out of the hall. The corridors were quiet now, the echo of our steps following us through the long stretch of marble and silver.
We were halfway to my room when a sound stopped me. It was faint but sharp, a muffled cry coming from somewhere down the servant’s hall. I turned my head, listening
“Is something wrong?” Lorenzo asked.
“I thought I heard—” I hesitated, glancing toward the narrow corridor ahead. “I’ll be just a moment. You can go on, I won’t be long.”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I’ll wait by your door. Can’t have my future bride wandering alone.”
His words made my stomach tighten, but I forced a polite smile. “As you wish.”
I turned toward the sound, following it down the narrow corridor. The castle was quiet here, far from the warmth of the halls. Only the faint light of a lantern guided me. When I pushed open the door to the servants’ barracks, the smell of soap and damp cloth filled the air.
Raven was sitting on one of the cots, her knees drawn up, her face hidden in her hands. Her shoulders trembled as quiet sobs escaped her.
“Raven,” I said softly, moving closer.
She lifted her head, eyes red and wet. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Please, just go, Iris.”
I shook my head and knelt beside her. “No. This is the second time I’ve seen you like this.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, turning away. “You should leave.”
“Is it because you saw him again?” I asked quietly.
She froze for a moment before nodding. “I can’t,” she said in a broken voice. “It hurts to see him. I thought I was past it, but I’m
not.”
My chest tightened. I sat beside her and pulled her into my arms. “Oh, Raven.”
She clung to me, crying harder. I stroked her hair, letting her cry as long as she needed. “Everything will be alright,” I said softly, though part of me doubted my own words.
Her pain reminded me too much of my own. The way it hurt
every time I saw William, the way my chest ached knowing he wanted nothing to do with me. But I pushed it aside. This wasn’t about me.
So I stayed with her, holding her until her sobs turned quiet. “You’ll be alright,” I whispered again.
Raven nodded weakly, her voice hoarse. “I hope so.”
I gave her hand a light squeeze. “You will be,” I said, even if I wasn’t sure either of us believed it.
Moments passed in quiet. The air in the barracks felt heavy, filled with the faint sound of Raven’s soft breaths between tears. Outside, the last light of day slipped away, leaving the small room in a haze of shadow and candlelight.
Finally, Raven sat up, wiping at her eyes. “I should head to bed,” she said, her voice tired and low.
