A few days later, Alexander and I met in the courtyard to review the decorations for the final time.

It was alive with activity. Servants strategically wrapped vibrant floral garland around banisters and balconies, their bright colors standing out starkly against the gray stone. Others had arranged additional blooms along the walkways and adjusted their petals and ribbons with meticulous care. The lush green lawn was perfectly trimmed, statues were meticulously polished, and the fountains were cleaned and sparkled in the sunlight.

Every detail was arranged to Alexander’s exacting standards.

“Marvelous, isn’t it?” he asked, his gaze sweeping over the courtyard. “It promises to be the event of the season.”

“Indeed,” I replied, smiling faintly.

My attention drifted across the courtyard, over the servants and the gardeners, and fluttering ribbons until it reached the guards stationed along the perimeter. Out of habit, I searched for the familiar build I could recognize without hesitation.

But he was not there.

Before I could dwell on the tightness in my chest, Alexander took my arm and steered us away.

As we continued across the grounds, we were stopped by nobles, offering compliments and extending congratulations.

I smiled warmly, inclined my head at the proper moments, and accepted their well-wishes, my voice carrying calm assurance.

No one would have guessed the effort it required to hold myself together.

We rounded the garden and a quiet awareness pressed at the back of my thoughts. It was the unmistakable sensation of being watched.

I turned, my gaze sweeping past garlands and polished stone, over the rigid line of guards. At the far edge of the courtyard, a figure stood concealed in shadow beneath an archway. Though I could not make out his face, something in me wanted to believe it was him.

 I wondered if he would notice the tightness in my shoulders. The way my smile held a second too long. The absence of light where it should have been.

A servant passed between us, carrying a cascade of ivory roses.

When I looked again, the shadow beneath the archway was empty.

I exhaled slowly.

Foolish Monroe.

“Princess.” Alexander’s voice cut gently through my thoughts. “Are you with me?”

My smile widened. “Of course,” I replied. “Just admiring the decorations.”

He inclined his head toward a waiting cluster of nobles, his hand settling at the small of my back. “We mustn’t keep them.”

By the time we left the nobles and Sir William had arrived to escort me back to my chambers, every part of me ached. My cheeks throbbed from holding my smile in place. My spine had been kept so straight for so many hours it felt as though it might splinter if I allowed it to bend. Each breath pressed against the rigid boning of my corset, my ribs protesting beneath the silk and laces. Even my slippers felt heavier than they should, dragging against the stone as though I were wading through water.

“Thank you, Sir William,” I said once we’d reached my chambers.

“Good day, Your Highness.” He bowed and withdrew, retreating down the hall to his post.

The door eased shut behind him and I sagged against it, the strength draining from my limbs now that no one was there to witness it.

I had only taken a few steps into the sitting room when I stopped short.

A leather-bound book sat at the center of the low table.

I hadn’t seen that book in days. Not since I had left it behind in the solarium.

I took a few tentative steps forward, a quiet unease stirring in my chest as I tried to understand how it had found its way here after all this time.

A sliver of pale blue peeked out from between the pages.

My heart thundered against my ribs, my fingers trembling as I opened it.

A forget-me-not lay pressed inside.

All at once, my breath left me, and tears slipped free before I could stop them.

These have always been my favorite.

A wise choice.

The walls of the sitting room melted away.

I was standing in the garden again with sunlight on my skin, the scent of lilac and honeysuckle carried on a gentle breeze.

I was with him. With Aiden.

The forget-me-not trembled in my grasp, pressed against my chest as something new threaded through my limbs.

Not longing. Not ache.

Resolve.

I could not continue this way. I could not pretend any longer

I would not.

I was already moving before my mind caught up with what I was doing.

“Monroe?” Alice called after me, but her voice barely reached me.

The door shut behind me, and she became nothing more than a fading echo.

My feet urged me to run. To gather my skirts and fly down the corridor like a reckless girl in a storybook romance.

I did not.

Anyone who passed would see only a princess making her way through the castle halls. They would not see the way my pulse thundered. The way each step felt like stepping off the edge of something I could never return from.

I walked.

And I did not stop.

Behind me, Castle Bedford dissolved into shadow, its towering spires swallowed by the night as the forest path unfurled before me.

Only once the trees closed in around me did I let urgency carry me forward.

Near the end of the path, amber light flickered against the trees.

My pulse quickened, each breath drawing in shorter than the last.

I stepped into the clearing. It was empty.

A small fire burned at its center, the embers glowing low as though it had been left untended for some time.

My breath faltered.

He had been here. I had waited too long. I had lost him.

My fingers curled tightly around the forget-me-not, my heart splintering beneath the weight of his absence.

Then… a soft rustle of branches. The deliberate crunch of leaves underfoot.

I turned slowly, my pulse roaring in my ears. Every nerve in my body trembled with hope.

Aiden stood at the edge of the clearing, half-shadow, half-firelight, and utterly still.

“Monroe.”

Chapter Eighteen