The curtains in my chambers were drawn back, and morning light flooded the room.

I sat up and stretched my arms over my head. “Morning, Alice,” I said through a yawn.

“Good morning, Monroe,” Alice answered, already sorting through gowns, muttering something about the prince and the picnic planned for the day.

I slipped off the bed and came to stand behind Alice. I rested my hands on her shoulders and gave a light squeeze. “You worry too much, dear Alice.”

“It is my job to worry,” she replied.

 “Well, if one of us must, I am grateful you do it so diligently,” I said, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before moving toward the bathing chamber.

“You are in quite an agreeable mood, this morning,” she observed. “Excited for the picnic with the prince?”

I lifted a shoulder, but I could not suppress the faint curve of my lips. “Something like that,” I said.

After I bathed and dressed, I settled in the parlor.

Boot steps echoed in the corridor.

My pulse thrummed beneath my skin, my lips faintly curving into a smile.

I turned as the parlor doors opened.

Alexander stepped into view.

Disappointment flickered through my chest. My smile faltered, just barely, before I composed myself. The mask felt suddenly foreign.

 I rose from the settee and smoothed my hand down the front of my bodice.

“Good morning, Prince.”

“Princess Monroe,” Alexander said, “I’m glad you could join me.”

“As am I,” I said, but the words felt flat.

He held out his arm and led us to the waiting carriage.

“I know this outing comes later than intended,” Alexander said. “The past days have demanded more of me than I had anticipated.”

“I understand,” I said. “You have obligations to the crown that must be fulfilled. Duty comes first.”

Alexander smiled at that.

As he spoke of duty and obligations, I was struck with a sobering clarity. I, too, belonged first to duty. In recent weeks, I had allowed myself to forget that, had almost convinced myself otherwise.

The carriage stopped in front of a vast green expanse that stretched as far as I could see. Stone benches nestled under pink and white flowering trees, floral vines climbed up trellises and arbors, and at its center a sprawling hedge maze.

Alexander helped me from the carriage and offered me his arm. He guided us toward a towering magnolia tree. A white wrought iron picnic table and two chairs were tucked beneath its canopy of pale blossoms.

The table had already been set. Crisp linens laid neatly, covered dishes arranged with care, polished silver cutlery glinting in the sunlight—clear evidence of thoughtful preparation. Yet it felt less like a picnic and more like a carefully curated scene.

And I knew, without thinking, exactly how I should behave within it.

Alexander pulled out the chair for me. I smiled and inclined my head before taking my seat. A servant uncovered the dishes, revealing fresh bread and soft cheeses, cold meats, small tarts and pastries. I remarked how lovely everything looked. Another servant filled our glasses with wine. I thanked them.

I wore the mask as if it had never slipped at all.

“I’m glad the weather held for us,” Alexander said, lifting his glass. “The park rarely looks this inviting after the spring rains.”

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” I agreed. “I didn’t realize Bedford had anything like this.”

 “My grandfather created it,” he said. “He loved the outdoors nearly as much as he loved ruling. He believed a kingdom should offer people, and its rulers, space to breathe.”

I smiled faintly. “That sounds like a wise way to live.”

Alexander inclined his head. “Perhaps. I never quite inherited his fondness for lingering in places like this. But I understand the value of maintaining what he built.”

I understood what he meant, even respected it. Though I admired his sense of responsibility, a quiet part of me longed for the kind of life his grandfather had embraced—one that allowed room for stillness and wonder and finding joy alongside responsibility.

It was a quiet distinction, but one that felt larger than it should have.

As Alexander spoke, my eyes strayed beyond the flowering trees, catching a familiar glimpse of silver. Aiden stood watch, still and composed.

His eyes met mine.

My traitorous heart stuttered.

For a fraction, the practiced rhythm of the afternoon wavered.

I tore my gaze away and returned my attention to Alexander, schooling my expression into a relaxed smile.

We spoke easily after that—about the estate, the changing seasons, the pace of court life. The conversation was pleasant, thoughtful, and polite. Exactly what it ought to have been. And yet, beneath the civility, something remained just out of reach. A warmth I could not quite summon, no matter how I tried.

“Allow me to show you the maze,” Alexander said after the servants had cleared the table. “It was another of my grandfather’s creations.”

“Of course,” I said, rising from my seat.

The maze was formed of low, neatly trimmed hedges that curved and looped across the lawn, no higher than my waist, revealing the full shape of the winding paths. Sunlight danced across their glossy leaves and spilled across the open corridors.

We had just maneuvered through the first section when a faint buzzing brushed past my ear.

I halted abruptly on the gravel path. I sucked in a sharp breath, rooting myself to the spot.

My eyes tracked the bee as it cut jagged lines through the air, unable to look away. The bee zipped past my face and I flinched, biting down on my lip to hold back a shaky whimper.

Only then did Alexander turn. “Princess Monroe?”

His voice barely reached me over the blood rushing in my ears and the relentless, panicked beating of my heart.

A chill raced through my body as the bee zig-zagged closer, the buzz of its wings as loud as the chaos inside my head.

A small, breathless plea tumbled from my lips before I could stop it.

Alexander’s brows furrowed in confusion, his mouth parting as if to speak. Aiden stepped in his path before he could.

“Monroe.” His voice was barely a whisper, yet it was impossibly steady. Unshakable. It cut clean through the panic.

“It cannot hurt you,” he said, calm and steady. He stepped closer, gently wrapping both his hands around my forearms. 

“Look at me, Monroe.”  He lowered his face to meet my gaze. 

My eyes locked on to Aiden’s bright green irises. 

The maze dissolved. The noise, the buzzing, the world beyond him—gone.

There was only Aiden.

“Breathe,” he said.

His voice, his grip, were my anchors. I could do nothing but obey. 

I drew in a shaky breath.

“That’s good,” he murmured as I released it. “Again.”

Another breath. The panic loosened its grip.

Aiden nodded. “You’re doing well, Monroe. Take one more big breath for me.”

Aiden’s hands slid to my elbows as he gently guided me a step to the left. Over his shoulder, I caught the bee’s quick movement as it darted away.

A long breath left from me as the world slid back into place.

“Are you alright?” Aiden asked, voice low.

“Yes, I—” I swallowed thickly, acutely aware of how close Aiden still was.

The warmth of his hands seeped through my skin. Pine and leather filled my lungs. I caught the faintest hitch in his breath before he spoke. “Princess?”

Boots crunched over the gravel, the sound dragging me fully back to the present.

“Sir Aiden?” Alexander’s voice came more clearly.

Aiden did not move. His fingers tightened slightly against my arms, his gaze searching mine.

“I’m alright,” I breathed, dipping my head once.

Only then did he release me and step back.

Before Alexander reached me, I caught Aiden’s eyes for a fleeting second. I shaped the words silently. Thank you.

His expression softened before duty reclaimed him.

Alexander glanced between us, his brows drawing together faintly. “Are you quite alright, Princess?”

“I am,” I said. “I’m afraid I have never fared well with bees. I’m allergic.”

“Allergic?” His brows rose. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware.”

Aiden’s reaction was quick, nearly imperceptible, but I caught it all the same. His gaze flicked to Alexander, his jaw tightening.

“No need to apologize, Your Majesty. I don’t often like to make my vulnerabilities known.”

Alexander’s expression shifted, as though filing the information away. He nodded once.

“Well then, I believe we have had sufficient excitement for one afternoon,” Alexander said. “We should return.”

His arm settled lightly at my back as he guided us toward the carriage.

Aiden’s gaze rested between my shoulder blades.

And somehow, it comforted me more than the prince’s hand at my back.

Chapter Eleven