I stood beneath an arbor wrapped in flowering vines at the start of the winding cobblestone footpath, mesmerized by the beauty around me. Colorful petals stirred in the breeze, tree branches swished overhead, and stone fountain statues burbled nearby. 

A soft wind wafted through the air, carrying the scents of lilac, honeysuckle, and jasmine. I closed my eyes, lifted my face to the sun, and breathed them in.

When I opened them, Aiden was beside me, his attention fixed on my face.

“We don’t get many days like this in Celermare,” I explained. “It’s perpetually rainy.”

“Bedford has its share of rain,” he replied. “But days like this are worth waiting for.”

I smiled and stepped onto the winding cobblestone path. Aiden fell into step beside me, his stride perfectly in time with mine. 

Neatly tended beds lined the path, their symmetry only broken up by soft bursts of color—clusters of blooms arranged with deliberate care. I slowed near a patch of forget-me-nots, their delicate powder-blue faces nodding in the breeze. 

“These have always been my favorite,” I said, almost to myself. 

His gaze lingered on the blooms, and for just a moment, the corner of his mouth curved—so faint that I might have imagined it. 

“A wise choice,” he said. 

I followed the path deeper into the garden, the first section giving way to a secluded area where flowers spilled over their borders in chaotic abundance.

I slowed my pace, letting my gaze wander over the riot of shapes and colors. 

For the first time in days, I realized I hadn’t thought of politics, duties, or obligations. I hadn’t even been aware of Aiden—until now, when I caught myself glancing at him, sunlight catching in the chestnut strands of his hair. And yet…there was no fluttering of nerves, no tightening of my chest. None of the earlier fear or awkwardness I had expected. 

Instead, I felt…free. As if the garden had eased all the tension I’d been carrying. I no longer felt like I was merely existing as a dutiful daughter or princess. Here, I felt like myself. 

We passed into the next section of the garden, where the path curved between low hedges and around bubbling fountains. With each step deeper into the immersive garden, I felt my body relax—my shoulders loosening, my steps growing less deliberate, even my breathing coming easier. 

I trailed my fingertips over the smooth stone of a fountain, no longer so mindful about posture or poise. 

“You seem more at ease here,” Aiden remarked. 

I glanced at him, surprised. Not just by the observation, but by how true it was.

“The gardens suit you,” he added.

“I—” I cleared my throat, suddenly dry. “I hadn’t realized I was that obvious.”

“I’m quite perceptive, Princess,” he said. “I would not be much of a knight if I weren’t.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I said after a moment. 

I sighed softly and then continued, “I suppose too, that it’s been some time since I’ve felt like the girl I used to be. This place, it—”

Something brushed against my wrist. 

I froze. 

My breath caught as I looked down. A bee rested there, wings still, oblivious to the havoc it had just wrecked.

“Sir Aiden,” I said, my voice barely more than air. Then again, sharper this time, panic lacing my words. “Aiden. I—there’s a bee. I can’t—”

My chest tightened, breath coming in short and choppy bursts. 

He was there instantly.

“You’re okay,” he said quietly. “Don’t move.”

“Allergic,” I huffed out. “Aiden, please.”

“Look at me, Monroe.” My eyes snapped to his, filled with reassurance and unshakable calm. His hand closed gently around my wrist. “You’re going to be fine. Steady now.”

I could only nod. 

His gaze never wavered as he lifted his hand, guiding the insect away with careful precision. 

Only once it was gone did he exhale. 

“You’re okay,” he repeated. 

His hand lingered on my skin, and when I looked up, I found his gaze had not strayed from me.

There was unmistakable concern there, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had been frightened too. Not of the bee, but of what might have happened to me.

Aiden cleared his throat. “We should get you back inside, Princess.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I think you might be right.”

We retraced our steps through the garden, and I noticed Aiden had shifted closer, his eyes scanning the garden for any new danger—bees, or anything else. 

My chest tightened, but in an entirely different way. He had learned of a new threat and would be ready to step in at moment’s notice.

It struck me then that he wasn’t just knight sworn to duty. He was watching me, truly watching me. And that both unsettled and reassured me.