Hollow.

That was all I was capable of feeling. 

And yet, to look at me, none would have been the wiser. 

Not even Sir William, who had stood beside me for the last several days and noticed nothing at all. 

He was not unkind. He was attentive, efficient, ever-present at my side. But he did not notice when my steps slowed or when my smile wavered before I caught it. He never asked me about my books or if I cared to walk the gardens.

Being escorted by him felt like moving through the world unseen. Observed, perhaps, but never truly noticed. With him, I felt myself recede, little by little, until only the role remained.

And so I did what was required of me. 

I fulfilled my duties with flawless precision, attending fittings and meetings, reviewing guest lists and ceremonial details, standing still as jewels were held against my skin and gowns were pinned in place. I accepted courtesies, listened when spoken to. I smiled when expected, nodded at the appropriate moment. My posture was perfect. My composure unassailable. 

I wore the role as though it fit. As though the hollowness wasn’t spreading, widening into a chasm vast and vacant. 

Each day that passed brought me closer to the engagement celebration and farther from myself.

I hadn’t realized just how much Aiden had shaped my time here at Bedford, and just how much his presence had anchored me.

I had come to long for the glimpses of him in the corridor as Sir William escorted me to appointments, for the brief glances I’d sneak of him when he was stationed near Alexander in meetings, for catching sight of his familiar posture at the edge of the room.

But even those fleeting moments didn’t last. 

As the celebration grew nearer, the glimpses I once caught of Aiden grew fewer.

It had taken me two days to stop searching for him—in the corridors, the grounds, even the training yard. It had taken another two days for the realization to hold. And one more still, for me to accept it.

He was gone. 

He was not coming back. 

And he had taken a part of me with him.

Every smile, every polite remark, further chipped away at what little remained. 

Still, the world required me to keep moving.

“Her Highness Princess Monroe,” Sir William announced as I stepped into the great hall.

Alexander was waiting near the tall windows overlooking the forecourt where carriages were already beginning to arrive through Bedford’s gates. 

He turned away from the window.

“Appearances matter now more than ever, Princess,” Alexander said, adjusting his cuffs. “The kingdom will be watching closely.”

I inclined my head. “I will fulfill my responsibilities, Your Majesty.”

“I’m quite certain you will,” he said, offering me his arm.

I linked my arm through his and we strode through the double doors and out onto the palace steps.

Nobles approached one by one, offering bows and warm congratulations.

Alexander moved through the greetings with effortless confidence, his voice warm, his smile steady. 

I stood beside him, my body remembering its role, even as my heart refused to. 

A familiar figure stepped from his carriage and made his way toward Alexander and me with a self-important air.

I recognized Lord Dupont at once. He had visited Celermare when I was a child, often bringing my father rare volumes for my father’s library. 

He flicked his coattails back and bowed. “Your Majesty.”

Alexander inclined his head and smiled. “Lord Dupont. It is an honor to have you at Bedford. It’s been too long.”

“I would never dream to miss such an auspicious event,” he replied. 

I curtsied. “Lord Dupont,” I began politely. “It is—” 

Alexander’s hand settled at the small of my back, and my words died on my tongue. To anyone else, the gesture was affectionate. I knew it for what it was–a quiet instruction.

“Lord Dupont oversees trade negotiations along the eastern coast,” Alexander supplied smoothly, as though I had never spoken.

Lord Dupont smiled and continued speaking with Alexander, his attention never once shifting toward me. 

I stood beside them, still and silent. 

A familiar voice surfaced in my mind. 

Good princesses are seen, not heard.

Only this time, the voice was Alexander’s.

The next carriage rolled into the forecourt. I lifted my chin and fixed my smile into place, ready once more to play my part. 

Carriage after carriage arrived through the gates, and noble after noble offered their well wishes and polite courtesies. 

When the forecourt had emptied at last and the evening air had grown cool against my skin, Alexander extended his arm to me. 

“Shall we?” 

I nodded, taking his arm as we turned back toward the palace. 

We settled in a private sitting room for the evening. A fire flickered quietly in the hearth, it’s glow soft against the otherwise austere lines of the room. 

A servant brought us tea and other light refreshments and then swiftly departed. 

Alexander lifted his teacup, taking an unhurried sip before setting it aside. 

“You’ve handled this well. You’ll make an excellent queen, Monroe.”

My fingers closed more firmly around my cup, the porcelain warm against my skin. 

The sound of my name, spoken so easily, so confidently, sat foreign and strange in the air. 

It did not sound like reassurance. 

It felt like a claim.

Without thinking, my fingers lifted to my throat, rubbing absently at the pressure there, as though something invisible had drawn tight. 

I swallowed, then brought it to my lips, and took a sip, if only to give myself a moment to compose.

“You are most kind, Your Majesty,” I answered. “Thank you.”

“Kindness has nothing to do with it,” he said simply. “You are well suited for the life you are stepping into.” His gaze held mine. 

“I will serve you and all of Bedford faithfully.”

Alexanders lips curved faintly, the expression controlled. “Good.”

“It is getting late. I should retire,” I said, rising from the settee. “Goodnight, Your Majesty.”

He rose from his seat, smoothing his hands down the front of his coat. “Goodnight Princess.”

I left the parlor, the door closing behind me with a quiet finality that echoed far too loudly in my chest. 

As Sir William escorted me back to my chambers, I searched for him. 

As I rounded every corner and passed every hall, I expected to see the familiar knight with emerald green eyes. Yet every corridor and hall remained painfully empty.

The hollowness crested inside me. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

When I stepped through my chamber doors, the realization struck sharp and unforgiving. The noose had never been removed…

It had only learned to disguise itself better. 

Chapter Seventeen