Page 58 of A Kingdom's Heart
For a heartbeat, it felt like the river again. Quiet. Heavy. Uncertain.
Then she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I had to come. I couldn’t let it end like that.”
I looked down at her. The torchlight caught the tears on her cheeks, turning them to glass.
Part of me thought I should feel glad to see her like this. She had lied, after all. She had taken the truth and turned it into something I could never trust again. If anyone else had done it, I would have wanted them to feel the same pain they caused.
But that part of me didn’t exist. Not when it came to her.
She lifted her eyes to mine, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry, William. I care about you. I like you. That’s why I lied. I was afraid you’d look at me differently. But that’s no excuse for what I’ve done. Please, forgive me.”
The sound of her voice, small and desperate, pulled something sharp inside my chest. I wanted to believe her. Saints, I wanted to. But I couldn’t. Not yet.
I took a slow breath, my hands curling at my sides. “You lied to
me,” I said quietly. “Every time we met. Every word you said came from a life you hid.”
She swallowed hard, her tears falling faster now. “I know. And I hate myself for it.”
I looked away, my jaw tight. “You made me think I knew you. You made me believe I met someone I genuinely cared about. You made me believe everything was real.”
“It was,” she said quickly. “It still is.”
I shook my head. “You don’t get to say that. Not after keeping the truth from me.”
Her lip trembled, but she said nothing. The silence that followed
felt cold, heavy.
I drew a slow breath, steadying the anger that still burned beneath my ribs. I wanted it to stay. It was easier to hold onto anger than everything else. The hurt, the disbelief, the way her voice still clung to my name like it meant something.
I kept my tone level. “You’re the princess of Elarion. I’m a knight sworn to serve your father. Whatever this was between us, it ends here.”
The words came out quieter than I intended, but they cut all the same.
Her eyes widened. She took a step toward me. “William, please—”
“Go,” I said, barely above a whisper.
For a heartbeat, she didn’t move. Her breathing hitched, and I saw the way her hands tightened at her sides as if she wanted to reach for me but didn’t dare.
Then, slowly, she turned.
Her gown swept across the stone, soft and silent, like the ghost of something I had already lost.
When she disappeared down the corridor, the quiet returned, heavier than before. I stood there, every muscle in my body tense, my hands trembling despite how tightly I clenched them.
It should have been easier to breathe without her. It should have felt cleaner, simpler, knowing I’d done what was right.
It didn’t.
The anger still burned, but beneath it there was something worse. An ache that refused to leave
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
IRIS
Three days had passed.
