“The Prince has been called away.”

“The Prince sends his apologies.”

“The Prince regrets to inform you…”

The lines were always the same—always spoken by Aiden.

I had hoped I might convince myself that what had happened between us in the sitting room had been nothing more than a moment of weakness. A misstep. A trick of proximity and silence.

But with each of the prince’s absences, and each appearance of Sir Aiden in his stead, that illusion grew harder to maintain.

I sat in the solarium, one of my books opened before me, when I heard the soft click of the door.

“Pardon, Princess,” Aiden said.

My fingers tensed slightly around the book. I kept my gaze fixed on the words before me, forcing my attention to the neat rows of ink instead of the way my pulse misbehaved at the sound of his voice. I did not look up.

“Good afternoon, Sir Aiden,” I said, careful to keep my tone even. “What awaits us today?”

He stopped just inside the door, “Whatever the Princess wishes,” he said.

I slid my page marker into place, closed the book softly and set it aside before finally looking up. I regretted it at once.

“We have seen the garden, the library, and walked the courtyard—twice. Tell me, Sir Aiden, what do you suggest?”

He considered for a moment. “There’s an old path beyond the eastern grounds,” he said. “It’s cool beneath the trees, quiet. I walk there when I need space.”

He hesitated for just a fraction, then quietly added, “If you would care to see it?”

I should have declined. It would have been the sensible thing to do. Yet the words that left me were not the ones I ought to have spoken. “I would like that.”

His throat bobbed once before he inclined his head. “Very well, Princess.”

I stood and smoothed out my skirts. Then he offered me his arm.

The path was shaded beneath broad canopies. A gentle breeze occasionally swept through, carrying scents of damp earth and moss. Birds perched high in the treetops, twittered and warbled. Sharp pinpricks of light filtered through the leaves, making them shimmer.

Walking side by side, my arm linked through Aiden’s, we meandered down the path at a leisurely pace. There was no pressure to fill the silence, no need to weigh each word before speaking. After days of careful composure, I no longer felt so restrained.

“This place is beautiful,” I said, sweeping my gaze over the trail. “I can see why you like it.”

“Just wait, Princess. There is more yet to see.”

The trail curved around moss-covered boulders and slipped past clusters of wild mushrooms and berry bushes. It rounded one final bend before opening into a wide, circular clearing rimmed with slender birch trees. At the far edge, a crystal-clear stream threaded its way through the landscape, its gentle movement catching the light.

“Oh, wow,” I breathed.

I unlinked my arm from Aiden’s and took a few steps into the clearing. It felt as though I’d stepped into another world. I turned in a slow circle, taking in the space. When I faced Aiden again, he was watching me, something unguarded in his expression. Not duty. Not vigilance. It felt almost as though he were looking past the crown, past the expectation, and straight to the marrow of me.

My breath faltered. I felt suddenly, dangerously known, yet I did not retreat.

I swallowed, steadying myself.

I turned away, letting my gaze drift back over the clearing. “This is…I’m not sure I even have the words.”

“I understand,” Aiden said, joining me. “It’s my favorite place in Bedford. It’s the one place I can just…be.”

That gave me pause. Not because I didn’t understand exactly what he meant, but because I had never once considered that Aiden might desire anything beyond what he was.

“I know what you mean,” I said. “The gardens are that for me. There I can exist simply as Monroe. I have only ever known you as Sir Aiden. I had not realized there was more.”

His brows rose ever so slightly, as if he were unaccustomed to being seen and unsure what to do with it.

Our gazes held.

Slowly, some of the tension left his shoulders. Mine followed.

Something in the air seemed to loosen, as if we’d both finally let out a breath we hadn’t realized we were holding. Even the clearing seemed to breath with us.

After a quiet beat of shared understanding, Aiden extended his hand. “Join me?” he asked.

Without hesitation, I slipped my hand into his. His fingers curled around my palm, his grip sure and steady. Warmth spread through my arm and settled deep in my chest.

He guided me to the stream’s bank where two overturned stumps rested at the edge. Aiden helped me down and then settled beside me. We sat in silence, listening to the quiet rush of the stream, the rustling of leaves overhead, and the chittering of birds.

“I’ve never brought anyone here before,” he said, his voice so low and soft I almost missed it.

Something tugged low in my chest as though some invisible thread between us had been drawn taut. “I’m glad you did,” I said. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“As am I,” he said, offering a small smile before turning to the stream.

I let my gaze linger on him a moment longer.

It struck me then how different he was here. His shoulders were loose, his posture relaxed, and his gaze no longer sharp with vigilance but thoughtful, at ease. There was a quiet confidence in him I hadn’t noticed before. One not forged by duty, but by belonging.

This was not the disciplined knight who stood at my side in court. This was simply Aiden.

And I was unprepared for how deeply I felt the difference.

Chapter Ten