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M+A Chapter 11

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I retired to my sitting room for the evening and settled into the chair before the fireplace.

Alice returned a few moments later with a steaming cup of tea, handed it to me, and then tended the fire.

“Did you enjoy yourself today?” she asked. “I have yet to see Bedford Park, but I hear it’s wonderful.”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s lovely. You would like it very much.”

Alice smiled. “Well, I shall leave you to your evening. Good night, Monroe.”

“Goodnight, Alice.”

She gathered the tray and slipped quietly from the room.

The soft crackle of the fire filled the silence, and I was left alone with my thoughts.

I thought of the lawn trimmed to perfection. The gravel walkways raked smooth. Not a bloom out of place.

Alexander suited it. He was immaculate, composed. Every thread in order. He maintained himself as carefully as he maintained the park and his kingdom.

And yet my thoughts drifted. To moss-covered rocks. To wildflowers shifting in the breeze. To a quiet stream cutting through untouched earth. To Aiden standing there, unguarded.

A familiar warmth bloomed behind my ribs.

I caught myself imagining a life beyond duty and structure and composure. A life unmapped by others. And I was struck by how fiercely some hidden part of me wanted it.

I shook my head and set my teacup aside.

I was not meant to want such things. That was not the life I had been shaped for.

Duty first, I reminded myself.

I tried to rebuild the walls of expectation around me, but no matter how hard I tried, they felt too thin.

The room closed in. The air grew heavy in my lungs.

I needed air.

I pulled my robe from the back of the chair and shrugged it on.

I quietly turned the latch and stepped into the darkened hallway, the door whispering shut behind me.

The stone was cool against my bare feet as I moved silently down the corridors. Silver moonlight spilled through the narrow windows, lighting my way.

My footsteps barely echoed as I turned the first corner heading toward the balcony I knew lay ahead.

The double doors appeared just as a sound echoed behind me. My steps quickened instinctively.

I risked a glance behind me, catching the orange flicker of candlelight dancing along the wall just beyond the corner I’d come from.

Just as I turned back around, I collided with a solid wall of muscle.

I gasped and staggered backwards, but two strong hands caught my waist, steadying me.

“Princess?”

My eyes snapped upward, meeting bright green irises.

“Aiden?” I breathed.

Before I could fully register that Aiden’s hands were on my waist—and that my own fingers were clutching the strong lines of his arms—a sharp voice rang through the corridor.

Aiden’s head turned instantly toward the voice, his posture going rigid, his gaze sharpening.

Keeping one hand secured around my waist, he used the other to swing open the balcony door and drew me inside with him.

He quickly shut the door behind us and braced his back against the wall, holding me securely against his chest.

“Aiden…”

“Not yet, Princess,” he whispered. “Wait till they pass.”

I nodded and bit down on my bottom lip. Aiden’s gaze dipped there for just a second before snapping back to the door.

The orange candlelight grew brighter.

The footsteps grew louder.

They halted just outside the door.

Aiden’s grip tightened on my waist, his fingers bunching the fabric of my robe. My fingers dug into his skin in return.

For endless seconds we clung to one another, breaths held, eyes fixed on the door and the shadow behind them.

The latch jiggled the slightest fraction. I squeezed my eyes shut and hid my face in Aiden’s chest.

A muffled voice rose outside the door.

The footsteps retreated.

Aiden’s body relaxed against mine, his breath warm against the side of my cheek as he slowly exhaled.

I lifted my head and found Aiden’s gaze already on me.

My breath caught in my throat. 

Moonlight brushed across his skin, tracing the strong line of his jaw and the curve of his lips.

A cool breeze stirred the night air, but I barely felt it. Our bodies were pressed flush together, the heat of him seeping through the thin barrier of fabric and settling low in my core.

Each nerve in my body felt like a live wire, sparking at each point we touched.

He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. My skin tingled where his palm brushed my cheek.

His hand did not fall away. His palm remained at my cheek, cradling my face as though he could not bear to let me go.

And I did not want him to.

His gaze dipped to my lips once more, lingering there, before slowly returning to my eyes.

Our gazes held. 

His head dropped a fraction lower. His nose brushed mine, his breath ghosting across my mouth.

His mouth hovered above mine, so close I could almost feel the warmth of his lips.

My eyes fluttered shut, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic.

I rose onto my toes, my chin tipping upward.

Aiden’s fingers pressed deeper into my waist.

Then, his forehead dropped to mine. 

“We can’t.” His voice was rough, as if the words themselves pained him. 

“I know,” I whispered, my own voice cracking.

Aiden’s jaw tightened. His grip loosened—reluctantly, almost painfully so—before his hands slid away from me.

I took a single step back, creating space that felt far too wide, far too cold. The loss of his warmth was jarring.

My arms fell back to my sides, fingers clutching my robe to keep them from trembling.

His gaze lingered on me—conflicted, aching with everything left unsaid—before he finally forced his eyes away.

He pushed off the wall, hands balled into fists, knuckles white.

“I should…” he started, then cut himself off. His voice was more strained than before. He cleared his throat. “We shouldn’t be here.”

I forced myself to nod, even though every part of me wanted to close the distance again. Wanted to pretend the world outside that door didn’t exist.

But it did.

I searched for the familiar steadiness, the polished calm I had been taught to wear like armor, but it was gone. I looked away and started for the door.

My fingers had just grazed the latch when movement flickered at the edges of my vision.

Aiden caught my wrist.

“Monroe…” his voice low and strained caught on my name.

I turned just enough to see the conflict on his face—the tight line of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils.

He drew in a sharp breath.

His fingers flexed instinctively against my skin, but he did not let go.

My pulse hammered beneath his fingertips.

“Don’t.”

His fingers tightened.

Then I was moving—pulled toward him.

His hands rose and cupped my face.

His mouth claimed mine.

For a single, breathless moment my mind went blank.

My lips softened beneath his. But before my body could fully follow, he broke the kiss.

My body swayed, dizzy.

My eyes fluttered open.

His breath came ragged in the narrow space between us.

“Aiden,” I breathed.

Realization flickered across his face.

His hands pulled away.

By the time the haze lifted, Aiden was at the door.

His hand closed around the latch. He paused and looked back at me.

Then the door opened, and he was gone.

Chapter Twelve

M+A Chapter 10

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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

M+A Chapter 8

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My lips parted on a soft exhale, my body responding of its own accord, years of meticulous training to command myself proving insufficient.

We were standing too close to one another, yet it was not close enough. One step, and I could be in his arms. One step, and I would surrender to the pull that had been drawing me toward him since the day I arrived.

His hand lifted slightly, as though drawn by instinct rather than intention. He raised it toward my hand, his control slipping just enough to betray that whatever war raged inside me raged inside him as well.

I did not move away. 

His fingers brushed against my knuckles—light, tentative. 

My fingers shifted without thought, just enough to allow the contact. 

A shiver traced down my spine, goosebumps rising in its wake. 

His fingers lingered at my knuckles, sending sparks skittering across my skin, sharp enough to steal my breath.

His gaze held mine—questioning, searching, and I did not look away. 

He swallowed. Hard.

“Oh! There you two are!” Alice said brightly, her voice cutting clean through the spell.

In the span of a blink, Aiden slipped seamlessly back into the disciplined knight. We looked away from one another and took a subtle step back. My fingers flexed slightly at my sides, as if my body had not yet accepted that he was no longer touching me. 

Despite my quickening pulse, I managed to keep my voice even. “Sorry, Alice. I got a little carried away,” I said, gesturing to the pile of books on the table.

“I’m glad to see you enjoyed yourself,” she said, moving to inspect their titles. Her eyes flicked briefly toward me, as if she were gauging my mood, though she offered no comment. 

“I’ll let you ladies be,” Aiden said, inclining his head as he moved toward the door. His hand paused on the latch before turning it fully. As he stepped through the doorway, I caught his glance back. Our eyes met for a brief, charged moment, and I drew in a quick sharp breath before the door shut.

“Are you alright, Monroe?” Alice asked, her brows knitting together. 

“Yes,” I said, but my answer came too quick, too breathless. I cleared my throat before continuing. “Quite fine. I feel a little worn is all.” 

I moved to the plush settee behind the table and picked up one of the books, my fingers drifting absently over the pages. Alice came to sit beside me, lightly closing the book in my lap.

I met her gaze, and something in her eyes told me that she saw more than I was willing to admit.

“Oh, dearest Monroe,” she said, her tone soft and sincere. “I know these past few days have been hard on you but remember that even the smallest act born of a fleeting emotion can carry consequences you do not intend. Let your mind be your guide, not your heart.”

I stared at her, words failing me. What could I say? To speak at all would be to admit something I knew I could not—not even to Alice. 

She offered me a gentle smile, one that said she already knew. She squeezed my hand once and then left me alone with my thoughts. 

Foolish Monroe. 

I leaned my head against the back of the settee and closed my eyes. 

We could have stepped back. He could have withdrawn his hand. I could have pulled mine away. 

We did neither. 

I waited for guilt to come. For my stomach to clench and my chest to tighten. But it didn’t. And that, somehow, unsettled me more.

What frightened me the most was not that it had happened. It was that I was no longer certain I would stop it next time.

Alice’s warning had come too late.

Whatever had sparked on the road to Bedford had begun to grow into something steadier. Stronger. And I could no longer pretend I did not feel it.

Chapter Nine

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

Dual Review: Your Knife, My Heart + My Blade, Your Back by K.M. Moronova

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Your Knife, My Heart + My Blade, Your Back by K.M. Moronova (Books 1-2)
Genre: Dark Romance, Action, Suspense, Dark Military Romance

After reading KM Moronova’s Leave Me Behind, I immediately had to grab the next two books in that world, featuring Emery and Cameron. Book 1 ends with a major cliffhanger, and I was scrambling to get the second book.

In the first book, Your Knife, My Heart, Emery is paired with the utterly unpredictable Cameron, and they head into the trials (which gave me Hunger Games vibes). Cameron has to not only try not to kill Emery, but make it through the Trials. Watching their dynamic unfold while they navigate the dangers was such a thrill.

In Book 2, My Blade, Your Back, they are taken out of the trials and given a high-stakes mission. There’s more plot twists and secrets revealed along the way which kept me hooked.

In both books, it was so fun to watch Emery and Cameron try to survive each other, the trials, and the mission, all while navigating the corrupt forces around them.

I loved the darkness, the action, the spice (well done, not overdone), and all the twists. Everything about these books kept me on edge and completely absorbed.

Interested in this read? You can grab them both below.

Your Knife, My Heart — My Blade, Your Back

🔥 Hot Tip! Both are free on Kindle Unlimited!

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