Page 88 of A Kingdom's Heart
My hands curled into fists against my knees, the leather of my gloves creaking with the strain. My jaw clenched until it hurt. I stared at the floorboards, focusing on the faint scuffs in the wood, anything to keep from looking up. Every word they exchanged felt like salt rubbed into an open wound.
I reminded myself what I was. A knight. Her guard. Nothing more. But the reminder did little to dull the ache.
Silence stretched after that. The only sounds were the steady rhythm of the horses and the faint rustle of fabric as she leaned against him. I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, each second feeling
feeling longer than the last.
Then the carriage slowed. The noise of voices grew louder outside. The wheels rolled to a stop.
We had arrived.
The door opened with a faint creak, letting in the bright warmth of the sun and the smell of the sea mixed with earth. Lorenzo stepped out first, his boots hitting the ground with a soft thud before he turned and held out his hand.
“Careful, my lady,” he said with a smile. “You’ll love the village.”
She placed her hand in his and stepped down, her gown brushing lightly against the stone. The guards followed, one after another, their armor catching the light. I was the last to leave the carriage, my sword at my side, the weight of duty heavy on my shoulders.
The village stretched wide before us, more alive than I expected. Narrow streets wound between small houses of pale stone and red-tiled roofs. The air smelled faintly of baked bread and lavender. Children ran along the road, laughing, and merchants stood at wooden stalls draped with fruit, flowers, and handwoven cloth.
When the people saw us, they stilled. Then, one by one, they bowed. The sound of it was soft, a rustle of movement and reverence.
Lorenzo held Iris’s hand, his smile easy and sure. “Come,”
he said.
She nodded and let him guide her through the street. The other guards followed close behind, forming a loose circle around them. I walked a few steps back, eyes shifting between the rooftops, the crowd, and the pair ahead.
Everywhere they passed, villagers knelt or offered flowers. The prince greeted them warmly, his hand never leaving hers. She smiled back at them, polite and kind, though even from a distance I could see the stiffness in her shoulders.
Lorenzo led her toward a stall where the scent of warm bread filled the air. The baker bowed low, his face lighting up as the prince approached. I stayed back, a few paces away, near another stall lined with woven baskets. Leaning against it, I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to look anywhere but at them.
Lorenzo said something to the baker, and a moment later, the man handed him a small loaf still warm from the oven. Lorenzo tore off a piece, smiling as he turned to Iris. “Try this,” he said.
She hesitated, then leaned closer. He held the bread to her lips, and she took a small bite. Her smile was soft, her eyes lowering as she swallowed.
Something in me twisted at the sight. It was sharp and unexpected, like being struck from inside. For a second I didn’t even understand it. Then I did.
It ached.
I had known this would happen. I had known from the moment the king announced her betrothal that I would have to stand by and watch her become his. But knowing it and seeing it were not the same. Watching her laugh with him and seeing the way he looked at her like she was already his, made it real. Too real.
I thought I could finally bury what I felt for her. I thought I had cut it clean. I told myself she was the king’s daughter, a duty, nothing more.Not Elara.Not the girl who used to sit by the river and smile like she had no idea how dangerous it was to look at someone that way.
I told myself I was loyal to the king and would obey him, and wouldn’t think of her again.
But in that moment, standing there while he fed her bread and she smiled like she meant it, I realised how wrong I was. I realised how much it hurt to see her with another man. To know she would be married soon. To know I would still be here, guarding her, watching, pretending none of it mattered.
Lorenzo tore off another piece, brushed a crumb from her chin, and she laughed again. My stomach sank. I clenched my fists at my sides and forced my gaze toward the street. I tried to focus on anything else; the chatter of the villagers, the sound of hooves, the cries of vendors selling fruit. But all I could hear was her voice. Her laugh. Her softness.
I swallowed hard, trying to steady the feeling that had built in
my chest. I had sworn to serve the king, to protect his daughter. But right then, I realised how little I cared for any of that. None of it mattered. Not when the only thing I wanted, the only thing I could not have, was standing a few feet away, smiling at someone else.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
IRIS
Lorenzo was still smiling as he fed me another piece of bread. I smiled too, though it felt faint, practiced. The villagers watched us closely, whispering to one another as they passed.
