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M+A Chapter 4

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The room felt smaller than before. 

I stood with my forehead pressed against the wood as if the chill might leach the heat from my thoughts. It did not. My pulse refused to settle, thrumming too loud in my ears. 

I straightened at last and crossed the chamber, shedding the careful composure I had worn all evening like a second skin. The candles flickered as I passed, their warm and steady light mockingly calm. 

This was foolishness, I told myself. A passing curiosity. Nothing more. 

As I unpinned my hair, I repeated the words, as if their mere repetition would make them true.

Loosening the stiff bodice of my gown, I took my first full breath, inhaling more freely since my arrival at Bedford. 

I closed my eyes, yet all I saw was him. Not his face, not fully, but the sense of him. The weight of his presence lingering behind me, measured and controlled, as if restraint were something he carried in his bones. 

I sank onto the edge of the bed and pressed my palms to my knees. It meant nothing. I was tired. Overstimulated. Far from home. Anyone would feel unsettled after such a day. Anyone might mistake vigilance for significance, discipline for depth.

And yet, my fingers curled into the fabric of my skirt as my mind betrayed me, replaying the sound of his voice—low, even, utterly composed. The way he had kept his distance, as though stepping closer would have been a transgression neither of us could afford.

I exhaled sharply and stood again.

This was dangerous ground. I knew it instinctively. These feelings, unnamed and unexamined, were indulgences I had never been allowed I had been raised for alliances, for duty, for sacrifice dressed as honor.

Tomorrow, I would wake and remember who I was meant to be. Princess Monroe of Bedford. Future queen. A woman with no room for foolishness.

I moved to the window and stared out into the darkened grounds, where torches burned low and the castle settled into an easy quiet. Somewhere beyond these walls, Aiden would be standing watch. 

And he certainly would not be thinking of me. At least, that is what I told myself.

I turned away at last and extinguished the candles one by one, leaving the room cloaked in shadow.

Still, long after I lay down, sleep would not come. No matter how firmly I closed my eyes, the space beside me felt anything but empty.

I opened my eyes to buttery light filtering through my bedroom window, its rays dancing along the floor. 

In those few, precious seconds between sleep and waking, it felt as though nothing had changed. I let myself savor them, relishing the stillness, the peace, the quiet of my own mind. 

As I bathed and dressed for breakfast, I moved with renewed confidence. The unease of my arrival had faded, and I was ready to settle into the rhythm of my new routine.

Alice escorted me to the dining hall, all the while issuing me a constant flurry of guidance and encouragement. “Remember, my lady…” she began once more. 

I stifled a chuckle and cast her a glance. “I’m quite surprised you have any advice left to give, dear Alice.”

“You joke, but one day you will thank me for it,” she smiled. 

Alice’s voice flowed beside me, soft and steady, punctuated by the occasional huff of breath as she straightened my sleeve or smoothed a wrinkle only she could see.

“Did you see the tapestries in the hall yesterday? The embroidery on the Bedford crest was exquisite—careful, don’t catch your hem.”

I smiled faintly at her words, the cadence and hum of her voice a comforting anchor as we moved through the castle.

Polished stone walls rose into high, vaulted ceilings, and the morning light streaming through long narrow windows painted streaks of gold across the floor. Knights passed at regular intervals, their boots echoing softly against the stone. 

I nodded absently as Alice continued, remarking about silverware and servants, horse stables and farms, manners and posture. She remained oblivious to my wandering gaze as she chattered on, her words blending into the steady rhythm of our steps. 

Alice’s steps slowed as we neared the tall dining hall doors. She paused outside them and adjusted my dress one last time. She smiled at me, leaning in to issue me a final piece of advice. “Mind your manners, and don’t forget to breathe.” 

I nodded, managing a small smile. 

She curtsied and stepped back.

Prince Alexander stood at the head of the long, narrow table, a pleasant smile already on his face. “Good morning, Princess Monroe,” he greeted. “I’m glad you could join me.”

“As am I, Your Majesty,” I replied. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He gestured to a seat. “Please,” he said, waiting until I had settled before taking his.

“I hope you slept well, Princess,” he said. “The first night in a new place can be unsettling.”

“I did, thank you.” 

He nodded courteously.

A brief silence followed—not awkward or uncomfortable, just still. “I hear the weather is beautiful this time of year,” I said.

“It is. You’ve come at just the right time, Princess. Spring suits Bedford. The mornings are mild, the evenings cool, and the gardens are soon to be full of bloom.”

“I’m looking forward to touring the gardens this afternoon,” I said. “I’m sure they’re lovely.”

“I’m certain you will,” Alexander replied, his smile faltered just slightly. “But I must apologize,” he continued. “An urgent matter has come up unexpectedly and I’m afraid I can no longer accompany you today.”

A small seed of disappointment took root, but I nodded, words of assurance and understanding already forming on my lips. “Of course, Your Majesty, I—”

The dining hall doors opened, and Sir Aiden stepped inside. The words caught in my throat. Just for a second. 

I swallowed and forced my eyes forward, focusing on Alexander’s face. “I understand,” I finished, fighting to keep my voice even. 

Alexander gave no indication that he had noticed my momentary falter. His gaze shifted to Aiden and his expression brightened, his blue eyes glinting as his smile widened.

“Perfect timing, Aiden,” Alexander said, rising from his seat. He stepped toward him then turned back to me, as if the solution had only just presented itself. “Since I cannot accompany Princess Monroe to the gardens today, you shall do so in my stead. I would not have her miss the opportunity.”

My stomach plummeted. It took every ounce of restraint to keep my face neutral.

I spared a quick glance at Aiden. Beyond the barest tick of his jaw, he remained a picture of control—unwavering, infuriatingly composed. 

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Aiden answered, his tone as calm as his expression.

A bead of sweat slid down my spine as the realization sank in.

I was going to be alone. 

With Aiden. 

Chapter Five

M+A Chapter 3

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For a single, immutable instant, time stilled around us.

Aiden’s green eyes met mine, something unreadable flickering there before his expression smoothed back into discipline.

“Let me introduce you,” Alexander said, his voice pulling me back to the present. 

I couldn’t argue, so I let him guide me towards Aiden.

He looked even more striking than before. His chestnut-colored hair fell just above his shoulders, half of it tied back, the rest loose and unruly. His green eyes seemed brighter now, reminding me of the rain-soaked hills in spring. He no longer wore his travel-worn armor but a formal uniform, the polished silver breastplate bearing Bedfords insignia, edged in gold. 

The sight of him stirred something inside me too dangerous to name. 

As we approached, he bowed, the warm candlelight glinting off his breastplate. “Your Majesty,” he addressed Alexander.

“I’d like you to meet Your Highness Princess Monroe,” Alexander said.

It was a miracle I remembered my manners, let alone how to speak. I smiled politely and curtsied. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Aiden.”

He bowed again. “Your Highness.”

Alexander turned and smiled. “Sir Aiden has served the crown with distinction. You are in capable hands, Princess.”

His hand fell to the small of my back as he said to Aiden, “I’m placing something of great value in your hands.”

“I understand, Your Majesty,” Aiden replied with a curt nod.

Alexander’s attention shifted toward oncoming courtiers, “It seems we’re being summoned.” Then quietly to Aiden, “Stay close,” and Aiden fell into silent step behind us. 

Conversation continued around us, but I found it hard to focus, too aware of the knight at my back. He said nothing, did nothing to draw attention, yet the space around me felt altered as if the air had shifted.

Without meaning to, I glanced over my shoulder. Aiden’s gaze was already on me. Not openly, not boldly, but it was there all the same. 

Heat rushed to my face, and I turned forward at once, my pulse stuttering. 

Foolish, Monroe.

As the event drew to a close, I was out of pleasantries, compliments, and small talk. My cheeks hurt from forced smiles, my feet throbbed, and my mind could no longer distinguish one noble from the next. Blessedly, our farewells were swift. 

“It has been an utmost honor, Princess Monroe,” Alexander said. “I have matters to attend to this evening, so I must turn you over to Sir Aiden’s care. I do look forward to our next meeting.”

With that, he brought our joined hands to his lips and pressed a polite, modest kiss to my knuckles. 

“The honor was mine, Your Majesty,” I replied.

Alexander smiled brightly, his blue eyes shining. “Sir Aiden will show you to your chamber. Good evening, Princess.”

I curtsied for a final time, and when I straightened, Aiden stood before me. 

His features remained impassive, neutral, betraying nothing more beyond strict discipline and obedience to his duty. “This way, Your Highness,” he said, his tone measured and reserved.

All the way through the great hall, through the castle, and into the winding corridors beyond, Aiden maintained a respectful distance—never more than two feet away. Yet I could feel his presence as something separate from him entirely. 

The walk to my chambers felt both too long and entirely too short. When Aiden came to a stop in front of the ornately carved door relief washed over me, followed by something I had no right to feel. Disappointment.

“Thank you, Sir Aiden,” I said.

“Rest well, Your Highness,” he replied. 

I lingered a moment longer, looking up at the man who had stirred something dangerous to life within me with nothing more than a few restrained words.

My mouth opened, then closed.

 Footsteps echoed down the corridor, drawing closer. 

Aiden’s jaw clenched. Then, without a word, he bowed and turned away.

I slipped into my chambers, closed the door, and pressed my forehead to the cool wood. 

Foolish, Monroe.

Chapter Four

M+A: Chapter 2

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Castle Bedford rose before me, massive and imposing, its light-gray stone gleaming in the sun. Bedford’s red, yellow and white banners, hung from the ramparts on either side of the tall wooden gates, fluttering slightly in the breeze. The carriage rocked over the gravel road as we passed through the gates, where Bedford knights in polished armor stood like sentinels. Unease slithered through me at their watchful eyes.

“Is it too late to throw myself from the carriage, Alice?” I whispered.

“Quite, my lady,” she said apologetically.

We stopped along the winding curve of the drive in front of the castle’s main entrance where additional guards and attendants waited for me. 

“You look every bit the princess, Monroe. Breathe. You’ll do fine,” Alice said. 

I had only a moment to compose myself into the princess they expected before my carriage door was opened and a gloved hand was extended to me.

I took the attendant’s hand and let him help me from the carriage. As I emerged, my eyes swept over the line of attendants and Bedford Knights. They stood rigid, their years of mastered discipline and authority evident. A flicker of disappointment tightened in my chest—none of them were him. 

A tall man in navy velvet robes and polished boots stepped forward, bowing low. “Princess Monroe, welcome to Bedford,” he greeted, extending his hand to me, and I let him guide me along the courtyard. Courtiers watched silently, their eyes measuring every step. 

He led me into the castle, past banners and long narrow hallways, my heels clicking loudly on the polished stone floors, until we reached a quiet corridor. There, he gestured toward a small private chamber. “Your chambers, Your Highness. A moment to compose yourself before the formal audience,” he said, bowing again before stepping back. 

The quiet of my private chambers pressed against me, the silence ringing loud in my ears. I exhaled, long and slow, letting the tension in my shoulders dissolve with every breath. 

A moment. That is all I need. A moment to remember myself as Monroe before stepping fully into my role.

I thought of what this arrangement meant, not just for me but for my kingdom. They relied on me to see this through…not that the choice was ever truly mine.

A soft knock rapped at the door. “Come in,” I said, straightening my shoulders. 

“It’s just me, Your Highness,” Alice said, poking her head through the door. “It’s time. Are you ready?”

I smoothed a hand over my dress, the silken fabric soft against my fingertips. “Yes,” I said, jutting my chin up. I took one final, steadying breath and left the calm quiet of the chamber, feeling like I had left a piece of myself behind that closed door. 

Moments later, I was escorted through the towering doors into the Great Hall where the quiet hum of guests stopped abruptly and dozens of watchful eyes turned toward me at once. 

Castle Bedford’s Great Hall was exquisite. Candlelight, warm and bright, filled the hall, and elaborately made tapestries and eloquent paintings hung on the high walls. Nobles and ladies of the court filled the grand expanse, their fine clothing and jewelry denoting their status and wealth. Senior Knights and guards were stationed around the edges. Musicians, with untouched instruments sat quietly in their corner.

As I was led to the raised dais where Prince Alexander and his court were seated, I let the years of practice and training ingrained in me take over. I moved automatically. My steps were slow, measured. My chin was lifted just enough to convey confidence without arrogance. My back was straight, my shoulders squared, my body composed, but not rigid. My gaze remained fixed just below the dais, respectful and subdued.

How a woman should be–my father’s voice again.

The walk felt eternal. I could feel the weight of the stares from each guest on me—observing, judging—with each deliberate step I took. Their evaluating stares were a reminder that I had no real power here. Suddenly, I felt as if I were being delivered to the prince, presented to him as if were nothing more than cattle, to be inspected and deemed worthy.

The thought was almost enough to make me stumble. 

My escort stopped in front of the raised dais. “Your Majesty, may I present to you, Her Royal Highness Princess Monroe of Celermare,” he said, his voice booming through the Great Hall.

When the escort stepped to the left, I got my first full look at Prince Alexander. He appeared only a few years older than I was. He was quite handsome—wheat-colored hair, striking blue eyes and soft, welcoming smile. Dressed in a dark navy, tailored suit, he carried himself with easy authority. 

“Your Majesty,” I said, curtsying. 

Prince Alexander bowed. “Your highness, it is an honor to meet you. Welcome to Bedford.”

After my introduction was made, Prince Alexander descended the three steps and came to stand beside me, offering his arm. I smiled politely, as I’ve been trained to, and took his arm. 

The evening unfolded exactly as duty demanded. Polite conversation flowed easily, but it was without substance—questions about my journey, my home, my health—each delivered with practiced smiles. Compliments were offered, pleasantries exchanged, and expectations silently measured. It was all perfectly proper. Perfectly dull. And yet, I responded as I had been taught. Every word was chosen with care, every expression carefully crafted.

As Prince Alexander spoke, his tone warm and attentive, my gaze cautiously drifted across the great hall. I scanned the gathered knights and guards along the edges of the room, searching for a familiar figure in immaculately polished silver armor. But he was nowhere to be found. Each time my eyes returned to Alexander, a faint and unwelcome disappointment settled deeper in my gut. He smiled down at me, and guilt swiftly replaced disappointment. Prince Alexander was to be my future husband. Whatever curiosity had taken root within me had no place here. 

We took a final turn about the room. I nodded appropriately, smiled when necessary and only spoke when spoken to. My attention firmly remained with Alexander, where it belonged. 

Until I saw him.

A Bedford Knight, broad-shouldered and unmistakable. He stood at the far edge of the room, half-shadowed near the stone wall as if he had been conjured there from nothing. His attention was fixed on the hall itself, his posture alert and controlled.

He did not look at me. My breath caught anyway.

“Ah,” Prince Alexander said, following my line of sight. “Sir Aiden.” He turned back to me, his expression pleasant and composed. “He is one of my most trusted knights and closest friends. I’ve assigned him to serve as your personal escort while you remain at Bedford.”

As if Alexander’s words had carried across the hall, Aiden’s gaze finally found us. Me. My chest tightened. The world tilted. 

Oh. Crap.

Chapter Three

M+A: Chapter 1

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Warm, golden beams of sunlight spilled through the small carriage window as it slowly rocked over the worn path to Castle Bedford—my new home. With each turn of the wheels over the gravel, the noose, disguised as duty, tightened around my neck. Soon, I would no longer be Princess Monroe of Celermare, but Queen Monroe of Bedford. 

Before I could stew on my thoughts of my upcoming betrothal to the Bedford prince, a loud snap pierced through the air and the carriage thudded violently to a stop, nearly throwing me across the seat and into my lady-in-waiting Alice’s lap.

“What was that?” Alice gasped.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll find out.”

I threw open the door and stepped outside. “What seems to be the matter?”

“You should remain inside, your Highness,” said one of the guards who’d been riding on horseback behind the carriage.

Ignoring the guard’s advice, I turned away to inspect the carriage. It sat askew, the right front end just barely touching the ground, the wheel lying beneath it. The outer rim of the wheel and its inner spokes were intact—the wheel had simply come loose from the joint connecting it to the frame. An easy fix. 

“Not to worry, Your Highness. We shall handle the matter,” the driver said, coming to stand beside me.

I turned to look at him. “With the right leverage, you should be able—”

“Your Highness, why don’t you and Miss McKay wait inside the first carriage until then,” another of my guardsmen suggested, cutting me off. 

I bit the inside of my cheek, holding back the retort I longed to hurl at him, and nodded. 

Good princess should be seen, not heard. The voice—my father’s—rattled around in my brain. 

“The lady is right,” came a voice from behind. It was deep and rich, and the sound of it sent goosebumps skittering across my skin. I turned toward the voice, and my breath stuttered.

A great white steed approached, and on its back, a Bedford knight. His polished silver armor glinted brightly in the sunlight as he leapt deftly from his horses back.

He dropped into a bow. “Your Highness,” he said.

My tongue, stuck to the roof of my mouth, would not cooperate, so I bowed my head in return. 

The knight walked around the carriage, inspecting it. “The wheel is unbroken–a fortunate sign. It seems to only have come dislodged from the frame. If we can prop her up, I can set it right again without much trouble.” 

A hint of satisfaction warmed my chest. As I had tried to say, I thought. 

Orders were dispatched quickly from the knight, and my guardsmen and driver obeyed without hesitation. The carriage was repaired with practiced efficiency. Before allowing me back inside, the knight instructed the driver to test the wheel’s integrity. When it held up after five successful rotations, he gave a single nod, and the carriage was deemed safe to travel.

“I wish you a smooth journey, Your Highness,” he said, stepping back and bowing once more.  

I hesitated, then extended my hand in thanks. 

For the briefest moment, he did nothing. His gaze flicked to my hand, then to my face, as though weighing a decision he did not wish to make. 

When he finally took it, his touch was careful. His fingers brushed mine, warm and steady, and the contact sent a sharp, unwelcome awareness skittering up my arm. 

He released me at once, as though the space between us had grown suddenly dangerous. 

My breath caught, though I could not have said why. Before I found my voice, he had already stepped away. 

We continued onward to Castle Bedford, yet my thoughts lingered behind on the road we’d left. The memory of the knight returned to me unbidden—the steady green of his eyes, the calm certainty in his voice, the warmth of his touch lingering like an echo in my palm. 

I did not know his name, but I knew I would not soon forget him. 

Chapter Two

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