Rain pattered against the glass windows of the solarium, its steady rhythm a soothing backdrop to the quiet I had been craving all morning.

I had tucked myself into one of the cushioned window seats, an unopened book resting in my lap. My fingers traced idly over the lettering on its cover as I gazed out at the rain.

I drew in a deep breath and then peeled back the book’s cover, ready to lose myself in the story unfolding inside its pages.

My fingers had just brushed the edge of the first page when I heard the quiet swish of the solarium door opening.

I looked up, already knowing who it was by the familiar cadence of his footsteps.

“Good morning, Sir Aiden,” I said.

“Your Highness,” Aiden replied, inclining his head.

My brows drew together faintly at the formality.

I was beginning to despise that title.

Aiden’s expression tightened for the briefest moment before he gestured to the book in my lap. “What are you reading today?”

“Something you’d find dreadfully boring, most likely,” I said lightly, a smile tugging at my lips.

I turned the book toward him, revealing the cover.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, before he seemed to remember himself, and it faded entirely.

I studied him a moment longer. The tension in him was unmistakable—shoulders too tight, spine too straight, jaw set too hard. He looked almost statuesque. More like carved stone than the man I knew.

I sat a little straighter.

“Aiden,” I said quietly. “What is it?”

His chin lifted as he clasped his hands behind his back.

“The Prince has requested our presence.”

“Our?” Dread coiled tight in my stomach. “May I ask why?”

“I do not know. The Prince has not shared his reasons with me.”

My throat tightened as I swallowed. “Alright, then.”

I set my book aside without another thought and rose to my feet.

We walked side by side through the silent corridors. We did not spare each other a glance. We did not speak. The only sound was the rain lashing the castle walls, muted by the thick stone, and the hollow resonance of our footsteps.

A heaviness hung in the air, thick as the rain clouds outside.

And none but Aiden and I would know it.

My posture mirrored his—the image of perfect discipline. Our steps were precise, controlled. Our expressions neutral, unremarkable. The distance between us was painfully appropriate. We were everything a princess and a knight should be.

And yet the act, once second nature, felt profoundly wrong—like wearing a skin that no longer belonged to me.

The air turned colder. The corridors narrowed, dimmed. More Bedford guards stood along the way. Though we were only in a different part of the castle, there was nothing warm or familiar about it.

And when the tall, dark wood doors to Alexander’s study came into view, I felt the full weight of how easily everything could unravel.

Lightning struck, illuminating the stone walls for an instant.

Aiden reached for the latch.

 I could no longer bear it.

So quietly I wasn’t even sure I had spoken at all, I said, “Wait.”

His hand froze, suspended an inch above the brass latch. With the subtlest turn of his head, his gaze shifted down the corridor behind us, then back to me. For just a blink, his mask cracked.

“We must,” he said.

And then he opened the door.

The scent of parchment and leather, struck me immediately, followed by old ink and something faintly metallic beneath it.

Alexander was seated at his desk, quill in hand, scrawling something across a document.

“Sir Aiden. Princess Monroe,” he said without looking up

He completed the line he was writing as though unwilling to leave a thought unfinished, then set the quill aside and lifted his gaze.

“Thank you both for coming. I won’t take up much of your time.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Aiden said, bowing.

“Please,” Alexander said, gesturing to the two chairs positioned before his desk.

I smiled politely and nodded, moving to the chair closest to him.

Aiden remained where he stood.

Alexander’s gaze flicked briefly to Aiden, then back to me.

“How are you settling into Bedford, Princess?”

“Well, Your Majesty.”

“The transition has been… smooth for you, I hope.” His gaze lingered. “You appear more comfortable lately.”

“Though it has taken some time,” I said carefully, “I am beginning to understand Bedford’s rhythms.”

“That’s wonderful,” he said. “It matters to me that Bedford feels like home to you, especially as you step fully into your role.”

He leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers steepled. “You and I will soon be shaping this kingdom together, Princess Monroe.”

He paused then, his gaze holding mine—steady, assessing.

“It is important that you are prepared for what that asks of you in the coming weeks.”

Another beat of silence.

“Your presence. Your attention. Your focus.”

The knot in my stomach tightened.

“Of course, Your Majesty. I understand what is expected of me.”

“Good.” Alexander smiled, though it did not quite reach his eyes.

“In light of the upcoming engagement celebration,” he continued, “certain adjustments must be made.”

“Adjustments, Your Majesty?”

“Yes. Which is why I’ve asked you both here. With your position soon changing, Princess, and with the increased visibility that comes with it, your safety is of the utmost importance.”

Alexander turned to Aiden.

“Sir Aiden,” he said. “You will be relieved from your escort duties effective immediately.”

Blood rushed to my ears, the rest of Alexander’s words coming through muffled as though I were hearing him from underwater.

 “Your skill set will be of greater use at my side. Sir William will assume your post henceforth.”

Every instinct in me urged me to look toward Aiden, to see if he felt the blow of Alexander’s decision as sharply as I did.

I did not. Could not.

Alexander’s gaze lingered on me, his eyes watching. Assessing.

Training took over. I forced my fingers to uncurl from my skirts and folded my hands neatly in my lap.

Aiden inclined his head. “Of course, Your Majesty. Sir William is a wise choice. He will serve you and Her Highness well.”

My chest cracked open, his acceptance striking harder than Alexander’s decree.

My mind screamed at him. Refuse him. Fight this. Fight for me.

Yet I knew he could not.

For the same reasons I sat silent and obedient.

Duty. Honor. Loyalty.

They demanded these thoughts be silenced.

Just then, a knock sounded on the door.

“Ah. That will be Sir William now,” Alexander said. “Enter.”

The door opened and Sir William stepped inside.

It felt as though I was watching everything unfold in slow motion.

Aiden nodded once to Sir William, then stepped aside and moved to Alexander’s side, his hands clasped behind his back.

He did not spare me a glance. His gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond me.

“The next matter,” Alexander said, reaching for a stack of documents on his desk, “is the matter of our engagement preparations.”

He laid the papers before me. Among them were invitations, seating charts, and schedules.

I smiled, and despite the tightening of my throat, kept my voice even. “Of course. I’m happy to go over anything you like.”

Alexander slid a piece of parchment toward me—the schedule for the coming days, already outlined precisely. “I’d like us to be seen together more often,” he said, “especially now that we’re so close to the day. It’s important that people see we are aligned.”

My eyes skimmed the paper, noting how full it was. Public appearances, luncheons, dinners, outings. It left little room to breathe.

“Everything looks satisfactory,” I said.

“I’m glad you think so.”

Alexander continued speaking, reviewing seating arrangements and plans, offering details I should have been absorbing, but his words dulled, blending into a low, indistinct murmur.

I followed along as though my world hadn’t just tilted, even as my mind fled the room.

I barely remembered Alexander concluding the meeting. Barely remembered Sir William leading me from the study.

All I could focus on were the stark gray walls of the corridor.  

Behind me, footsteps followed—heavier, their rhythm out of step with mine. They were… wrong.

I do not remember the walk back to my chambers. Only that somehow I arrived and found myself standing in the center of the room, unsure what to do with myself.

I was empty in a way I had never felt before.

Hollow.

Chapter Sixteen