historical fantasy

M+A Chapter 18

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 He did not move. Not toward me. Not away.

And so I crossed the distance. One step. Then another until there was no space left between us.

Slowly, he lifted his hand to my cheek, fingers barely grazing my skin. His breath left him in a shaky exhale, as though he only just allowed himself to believe I was real.

His thumb trembled as he traced the curve of my lips.

“Monroe…” my name stumbled from his lips. “You shouldn’t have come.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment I saw it—the war inside him. Duty. Loyalty. Want.

“I couldn’t stay away,” I told him.

“Alexander is a great man,” he said hoarsely. “He can provide for you everything that I cannot.”

I covered his hand still resting gently on my cheek with my own. “All I want, Aiden… is you.”

His breath caught.

His eyes searched mine as if trying to find something he did not dare believe.  

For weeks I had tried to fulfill my duty as Princess, as future queen, but I knew that life was no longer mine.

My heart had long since made its choice, and I could not deny it what longed for.

Him. Aiden.

I let him see it.

His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, not pulling me closer, just holding me there. Like I was his anchor as much as he was mine.

He pressed his forehead to mine. “My heart is yours, Monroe. Always.”

My fingers fisted in his tunic.

“And mine has only ever been yours.”

I rose onto my toes.

Aiden stilled.

For one suspended heartbeat, the world held its breath with us.

Then I kissed him.

It was not tentative. It was not careful. It was every stolen glance, every restrained touch, every word left unsaid set free all at once.

Whatever restraint he had left shattered.

Aiden’s mouth claimed mine. His hand tightened at the back of my neck as the other slid to my waist. He pulled me flush against him, and my hands threaded into his hair.

He nipped at my lower lip, drawing a soft sound from me, and a low approving grumble reverberated in his chest.

Aiden’s hands moved over my back, my shoulders, my arms, as if he were mapping out my body to commit the feel, the shape of me, to memory.

I clung to him, my fingertips digging into his biceps, only breaking away long enough to steal a breath.

Beneath the starlit sky, it was only Aiden and me—hands twisting in hair, fingers clutching fabric, breathless ravenous kisses.

Aiden broke our kiss with a groan, as if stopping was agony.

Our uneven breaths mingled in the space between us.

“Monroe,” he murmured, sending goosebumps across my skin.

He rested his head atop mine, his fingers still pressing into my skin.

“I can’t lose you,” he said, the words rough and uneven.

I looked up at him, my hand cupping his cheek. “You won’t. I choose you, Aiden.”

His lips curved before he leaned in and brushed a soft, delicate kiss to my mouth.

He took my hands and held them between us. “I have to tell Alexander,” he said, his voice steadying.

“We will tell him,” I said. “Together.”

Aiden and I paused at the edge of the forest path, looking up at the dark silhouette of Castle Bedford rising in the distance.

He squeezed my hand once before releasing it, and together we stepped onto the stone path.

We walked side by side, close enough that the heat of him brushed my skin, yet careful not to touch.

The night air was cool, but I barely felt it. Every nerve in my body thrummed, alive with the knowledge that everything was about to change.

We passed guards, their gazes following Aiden and me, but none made a move to stop us. No one suspected the fracture we were about to carve into the foundations of Bedford.

Aiden halted just before a long corridor, his fingers closing gently around my wrist. “Are you certain?” he asked quietly. “If he strips me of everything—”

I held his gaze, letting him see the unwavering truth in mine. “Then we shall have nothing. Together.”

He held my gaze a moment longer. Then he nodded once, slow and decisive, and he laced his fingers through mine.

At the end of the corridor, the parlor doors stood slightly ajar, a shaft of firelight spilling across the stone floor.

We shared one final look, a silent confirmation.

Aiden brought his hand up to the door, but before his knuckles even grazed the wood, Alexander’s voice drifted from within.

“Enter.”

Aiden pushed the door open.

A fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting warm light across the parlor. Prince Alexander sat in a high-backed chair, one ankle crossed over his knee, a glass untouched at his side.

Firelight traced the sharp line of his profile as his gaze lifted slowly from the flames, settling first on our joined hands.

“I wondered when this moment would come,” he said.

His attention returned to the hearth, the quiet snap of burning logs stretching between us.

“I admit,” he continued evenly, “I had hoped you would choose me.”

He rose then, unhurried, setting the glass aside without looking at it.

When his gaze met mine fully, there was no accusation there, only clarity.

“But I see now, you would only have resented me.”

Something in my chest tightened. Not with fear, but with understanding. For the first time, I saw him not as a prince, not as an obligation, but simply as a man who had misjudged love… and knew it.

“I tried,” I said softly.

“The fault is mine, Your Majesty,” Aiden said.

Alexander lifted a hand, not sharply, not in reprimand, but in quiet refusal. “No,” he said. “No, the truth is no one’s fault.”

His gaze moved between us, not as a ruler assessing subjects, but as someone finally seeing what had always been there. “You love each other.”

We did not deny it.

A faint curve touched his mouth. It was not quite a smile, but something like acceptance.

“You are released from this arrangement,” he said, his attention returning to me. “I will dissolve the engagement. The rest, I will manage.”

Silence settled in the parlor again, only broken up by the soft crackle of the fire.

Then, softer, Alexander said, “Go.”

I released Aiden’s hand and stepped forward. “Thank you,” I said.

Behind me, Aiden bowed. “Your Majesty.”

Alexander inclined his head once, then turned away, his hands clasping behind his back.

Aiden and I left the parlor, hand in hand, moving silently through the corridor.

Perhaps we did not trust the moment to hold. Or perhaps we could not yet believe we had walked away without consequence.

When the carriage waiting in the drive came into view, something inside me began to ease.

There were no gloved attendants, no line of guards standing at attention as there had been the day I arrived. No banners. No procession.

There was only Aiden and me in the hush of dawn, stepping into something entirely our own.

I did not allow myself to look back at first. But as the carriage wheels began their steady rhythm over stone, carrying us through the outer gates, I could not help myself.

I turned.

High above, framed by stone and morning light, Prince Alexander stood at the balcony.

He did not wave. He did not call out. He simply watched.

Our eyes met across the distance. He inclined his head. Not as a prince to a subject. Not as a man to a possession. But as an equal.

The gates closed, and Bedford receded behind us.

Aiden took my hand in his, and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to my knuckles.

I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes.

I did not know where the road ahead would take us, but as Aiden’s thumb traced slow, lazy circles over my hand, I knew one thing with absolute certainty—wherever it led, we would meet it together.

***

Pinpricks of sunlight filtered through the broad canopy overhead, dappling the meadow below.

I wandered along the bank where wildflowers grew in abundance, their petals brushing my ankles.

Aiden was stretched out comfortably on the blanket, boots discarded, one arm propped behind his head. He watched me with an expression so open, so unguarded, it made my chest tighten. As though I were not merely his wife, but a miracle he still could not quite believe was his.

I returned to the blanket and settled beside him. He gathered me close, his strong arms wrapping around me without hesitation, as though some part of him still feared I might vanish if he did not hold me there.

His fingers curled beneath my chin, tilting my head back until our gazes met. “Are you happy?” he asked.

“Better than happy,” I said, smiling. “With you, I am whole.”

“Always so poetic, Princess.”

I smiled wider, brushing my fingers over his jaw. “I am no princess.”

“You are whatever you chose to be, and you have always been more than a crown.”

He kissed me slowly, reverently, like he had all the time in the world.

“I love you, Monroe.”

“I love you, Aiden.”

He kissed me again, then tucked me close against him and held me there.

I gazed across the meadow at our cottage tucked amongst the trees. The light struck it just so, and I thought of the painting in Bedford’s gallery.

I had once believed it beautiful in theory. I had not known it could be lived.

Here, there were no nooses disguised as duty. No crowns masquerading as destiny. Only the steady rush of water, wildflowers at my feet, and the man who had chosen me as fiercely as I had chosen him.

 

The End

M+A Chapter 12

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I stood rooted to my spot on the balcony, staring at the door Aiden had left through, my pulse still hammering a relentless rhythm.

I softly traced the curve of my bottom lip, my mouth curving into a small smile.

He kissed me.

An incredulous laugh bubbled out of me and echoed across the stone. The sound startled even me. I quickly pressed a hand over my mouth, quieting myself.

I wavered on my feet, suddenly unsteady. My knees felt weak as I stumbled to the curved stone bench beside the balcony railing and sank onto it.

Aiden’s face flashed through my mind—the hint of desire in his eyes—and then his voice followed, low and husky, sending a shiver racing down my spine.

I could still feel him, as though his touches had branded themselves into my skin—the imprint of his fingers on my wrist, the warmth of his palms on my cheeks, the firm press of his lips against mine.

Aiden had kissed me.

I closed my eyes, clinging to the feeling while it still lingered.

Cool midnight air brushed against my skin. Slowly, the warmth of the moment began to fade, and the quiet of the balcony settled around me.

I rose from the bench, drawing my robe tighter around me before slipping quietly from the balcony and back toward my chambers.

The corridors felt darker now, the air thicker around me.

The walk felt endless, each step heavier than the one before.

Candlelight glimmered along the golden threads of a great tapestry.

My steps faltered.

The Bedford crest loomed before me. It sat at the heart of a golden crown, framed by glittering jewels.

A symbol of duty.

A symbol of honor.

Alexander.

A cold unease seeped into my bones.

I turned away and hurried back to my chambers.

My trembling fingers fumbled with the latch. When it finally gave way, I stumbled inside.

I slammed the door harder than necessary. The wood reverberated like my pounding heart.

I turned the lock and backed away from the door, as if it could keep the inevitable at bay.

Only it didn’t.

Guilt settled heavy in my stomach, sinking like a stone.

Foolish, Monroe.

But the familiar words rang hollow, offering no comfort. No matter how many times I repeated them, the guilt refused to ease.

I was betrothed to another man, our wedding barely a month away. It was not simply a union between two people, but a promise between two nations—one meant to secure the future of my kingdom.

These feelings I harbored were not only a betrayal of my own kingdom, but of Alexander as well.

I had not stopped Aiden.

Worse still, I had wanted it.

I dropped onto the edge of my bed and drew in deep, steadying breaths willing my mind and body to calm.

When my body finally began to loosen, I slipped under the covers and waited for sleep to come.

But every time I closed my eyes, Aiden appeared unbidden in my mind, followed by phantom impressions of him—his breath, his hands, the heat of him.

“Oh, God, Monroe.” I shook my head, forcing the thoughts away.

I rolled onto my back and stared at the high-vaulted ceiling, trying again to focus on my breathing.

That did not work either.

All I could think about was how irrevocably things had changed.

Aiden had kissed me. Not by accident. Not by impulse alone. He chose it.

And I had chosen him in return, surrendering myself to the moment.

This was not a passing spark—it was something deeper.

I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to follow that thought any further.

But when sleep finally came, it carried the memory of Aiden with it.

Chapter Thirteen

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 7

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I woke with a cautious sense of resolve. The flicker of hope I’d felt the night before lingered–not brighter, but steadier, as though I’d chosen to hold onto it rather than let it slip away.

I moved through my morning routine with practiced ease, a quiet anticipation setting in. It wasn’t excitement, exactly, but intention. 

Even as I sat in the small sitting room, a book propped on my lap, I found it difficult to focus on the words on the page. My thoughts kept returning to Alexander’s words, to the possibility that this—whatever this might become—could be enough.

When the knock at my door came, I still smiled, but it was the sort of smile I had learned to wear well.

I closed the book, set it on the table beside me, and folded my hands in my lap as Alice went to the door.

When she returned, she said, “Sir Aiden, Princess,” and he entered the sitting room.

My smile faltered—caught between what I had been expecting and what stood in front of me—before I gathered myself. 

“Sir Aiden,” I said, standing and dipping into a practiced curtsy. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Princess,” he greeted, inclining his head. “The prince sends his regards…” He paused. The subtle tug at his lips and quick tick of jaw betrayed his unease. “As well as his most sincere apologies. He has been called away from the court this morning.”

I forced my smile back into place and schooled my tone into aloofness. “That is most unfortunate. Thank you, Sir Aiden, for letting me know.”

I thought that would be the end of it, that he might turn to leave after delivering Alexander’s correspondence. 

He did not. 

“The prince asked that I remain at your disposal today,” he said. “Until his return.”

It was faint, but a tightness formed in my chest.

“I see,” I said. “And what does one do when one is…at a knight’s disposal?”

His gaze drifted past me to the book resting on the settee behind me, then back. “If it pleases you, the library is quiet at this hour.”

“Yes,” I said. “I would enjoy that.”

Aiden nodded and stepped to the side, letting me pass first before sliding into place beside me. 

As we walked the halls, I let myself imagine the rows of books and what kinds of stories lay behind their leather covers—anything to keep my thoughts from drifting to the man at my side.

The library was exquisite. The calm quiet settled deep into my bones, giving me almost the same sense of peace I felt in the garden. I wandered through towering shelves, running my fingertips over well-worn spines and smooth covers. My fingers itched to pull the books from their slots, peel back their covers, and lose myself in them. 

Aiden followed close behind, his broad frame crowding the narrow aisle, making his presence impossible to ignore. 

I stopped in the poetry section, my eyes catching on intricate gold lettering on a spine, just out of reach. I stretched upwards on the balls of my feet, my fingertips just barely brushing the books edge—only for it to be plucked free a heartbeat later. 

Aiden had stepped in behind me, leaving the barest breadth of space between us.

His arm brushed against mine as he reached overhead, the contact setting sparks dancing across my skin. I sucked in a sharp breath, warmth rushing to my cheeks at our sudden closeness—at the heat of his body, the pine and leather scent that enveloped me—and there was nowhere for my awareness to go but him. 

He handed me the book without a word. 

“Thank you,” I said, my voice coming out a shade too breathless. 

I swallowed and tucked the book under my arm. I turned too quickly and continued down the aisle, my steps a fraction faster than before.

Aiden matched my pace, closing the distance between us in a few effortless strides, leaving me little time to gather myself. 

As we browsed the next few aisles, I fought to keep my attention stubbornly fixed on the shelves. Still, despite myself, my gaze strayed toward Aiden more than once before I caught it and forced my focus back to the rows of books.

After we’d moved into a new section, I cast another subtle glance at him. His brow was faintly furrowed, his attention drifting over the shelves with polite detachment.

It dawned on me then that he was enduring this solely for my sake, and I found myself unexpectedly touched by his patience. 

I paused mid-aisle and turned to him. “You don’t actually like it here, do you?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I do not. But I would not stand in the way of your enjoyment nor let you remain alone in it.”

I knew his words were meant to comfort, not wound, but they landed with a quiet sting all the same. 

It was not Aiden’s place to guard my feelings. 

He did it anyway. 

Because the prince had chosen duty over me. 

I did not allow myself to linger in that ache. Instead, I turned my attention back to shelves, choosing to be grateful for Aiden’s presence. For the simple fact that he was here at all. 

I cleared my throat and pulled a book from the shelf. “For an esteemed knight such as yourself, Sir Aiden, I wouldn’t have expected libraries to be your downfall.”

“Nor I, Princess,” he said. “But it seems I have met my match—shelves and silence. I fear that my behavior would shame any of the knights you might find in these books.”

I smiled. “I don’t believe that. I think they would commend you for your bravery and sacrifice for daring to step foot inside.”

Aiden smiled then—truly smiled—and it softened the strong planes of his face. The sight of it struck me deeper than I was prepared for.

“Go on, Princess,” he urged softly. “Choose as many as you like.”

I wasted no time moving to shelf after shelf, piling my arms full of leather-bound books. When they began to tremble under their weight, Aiden scooped them easily into his. 

We made another turn through the library, I gathered a few more books, and then we headed back to the sitting room. 

“You have outdone yourself, Princess,” Aiden remarked as we stood back from the low table, surveying the trove we’d delivered. “The library didn’t stand a chance.”

“Thank you,” I said. “For this. For today. It was…perfect.” 

And truly, it had been everything.

I couldn’t stop myself—I beamed up at him.

Our eyes held and in the span of single fragile heartbeat, time stilled. 

The air between us crackled, charged with longing, restraint—everything we both felt but could not say. 

He took a single step. 

And then, as if he had only just realized it, his breath caught. 

Chapter Eight

M+A Chapter 6

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I didn’t have long to sit with the thought of what I noticed of Aiden in the garden, nor the way it lingered long after I thought it should have faded. The following days were busy with appointments–dress fittings, royal wardrober consultations, etiquette trainings. I barely had time to catch my breath, let alone examine my own feelings–or the way Aiden’s presence had unsettled something I hadn’t known was so fragile.

And today would be no exception. Prince Alexander was hosting a formal luncheon. 

It would be the first time since my introduction to the court that Prince Alexander and I would be seen together in public. There would be no room for missteps. 

After Alice checked—and checked twice more—that every silken strand of my hair was in place, my gown was wrinkle free and flowing just right, she finally gave me her nod of approval. 

“Ready, Your Highness?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. I raised my chin and straightened my shoulders, a faint smile touching my lips when I caught Alice’s proud look from the corner of my eye. 

The great hall had completely transformed for the luncheon. It radiated elegance and finery, every gilded piece of furniture and décor gleaming brilliantly. 

Alexander was speaking with a small group of men, and I couldn’t help but be in awe of him for how he commanded the attention of those around him. Even as he left them to come to my side, the men’s gazes followed him, reluctant to let him go.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” Alexander said, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips. 

His gesture was polite, proper, expected, yet it stirred nothing like the restless spark that Aiden’s touch had set loose beneath my skin—sharp, electric, and impossible to ignore.

“Your Majesty,” I replied, curtsying regally.

Leaning slightly, his voice low and steady, he said, “You look magnificent, Princess.”

“And you,” I replied.

“Shall we?” 

I nodded and let him lead the way to the long dining table in the center of the room. 

The luncheon unfolded with practiced precision. Plates were exchanged, wine glasses filled, voices rose and fell in easy rhythm. I answered when spoken to, smiled when expected, laughed softly at the right moments. 

The conversation rarely lingered on me. It moved around me—trade, border disputes, the coming winter—matters I had been trained to understand but not invited to weigh in on.

More than once, my gaze drifted toward the edges of the hall before I caught myself—an instinctive, foolish search for a familiar presence that had no reason to be there. 

Alexander would occasionally glance my way, but his gaze never stayed, already pulled into new conversations. 

It was easy to understand why he was so admired. He spoke with confidence, each word laced with conviction, but there was a lightness to him too, a warmth beneath the authority. He was charming in a way that felt effortless—the embodiment of a true leader. A prince. A king. 

I should have been grateful that I was to marry him. He was everything he should be, everything a princess should want. But as one course blurred into the next, I found it harder to convince myself of it. 

It wasn’t long until I faded into the background completely. Alexander’s quick glances ceased, and whatever small exchanges I had been a part of dissolved as conversation moved on without me. 

It’s all part of the role, I chastised myself, knowing that my place here was to be more decorative than essential. I had known this. Expected it. Still, I hadn’t anticipated the loneliness that settled over me in a room full of people. It was a loneliness I hadn’t felt in the garden, standing beside a knight whose solid, unspoken steadiness had made me feel less alone without ever trying to.

Relief washed over me when Alexander rose from his seat, signaling the end of the luncheon. “Guests, if you would please,” he said smoothly. One by one, the nobles and courtiers gathered their belongings and filed out of the hall. 

I exhaled, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease as the room emptied. 

“Princess Monroe,” Alexander said. “May I escort you to your chambers?” 

“Of course,” I answered, and Alexander fell into step beside me as we walked through the hall. 

“I know these last few days have been…busy,” he began. “It hasn’t left much room for anything else.” Soft blue eyes met mine, warm and attentive. “I hoped we might take a walk through the castle grounds once things settle.”

A faint flicker of hope stirred in me, imagining something beyond protocol and expectation.

“I would like that,” I said, feeling my lips curve into a genuine smile. 

Perhaps, finally, there would be a moment that felt like it belonged only to us–one that might quiet the thoughts of a man I had no right to carry.

Chapter Seven

M+A Chapter 5

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I stood beneath an arbor wrapped in flowering vines at the start of the winding cobblestone footpath, mesmerized by the beauty around me. Colorful petals stirred in the breeze, tree branches swished overhead, and stone fountain statues burbled nearby. 

A soft wind wafted through the air, carrying the scents of lilac, honeysuckle, and jasmine. I closed my eyes, lifted my face to the sun, and breathed them in.

When I opened them, Aiden was beside me, his attention fixed on my face.

“We don’t get many days like this in Celermare,” I explained. “It’s perpetually rainy.”

“Bedford has its share of rain,” he replied. “But days like this are worth waiting for.”

I smiled and stepped onto the winding cobblestone path. Aiden fell into step beside me, his stride perfectly in time with mine. 

Neatly tended beds lined the path, their symmetry only broken up by soft bursts of color—clusters of blooms arranged with deliberate care. I slowed near a patch of forget-me-nots, their delicate powder-blue faces nodding in the breeze. 

“These have always been my favorite,” I said, almost to myself. 

His gaze lingered on the blooms, and for just a moment, the corner of his mouth curved—so faint that I might have imagined it. 

“A wise choice,” he said. 

I followed the path deeper into the garden, the first section giving way to a secluded area where flowers spilled over their borders in chaotic abundance.

I slowed my pace, letting my gaze wander over the riot of shapes and colors. 

For the first time in days, I realized I hadn’t thought of politics, duties, or obligations. I hadn’t even been aware of Aiden—until now, when I caught myself glancing at him, sunlight catching in the chestnut strands of his hair. And yet…there was no fluttering of nerves, no tightening of my chest. None of the earlier fear or awkwardness I had expected. 

Instead, I felt…free. As if the garden had eased all the tension I’d been carrying. I no longer felt like I was merely existing as a dutiful daughter or princess. Here, I felt like myself. 

We passed into the next section of the garden, where the path curved between low hedges and around bubbling fountains. With each step deeper into the immersive garden, I felt my body relax—my shoulders loosening, my steps growing less deliberate, even my breathing coming easier. 

I trailed my fingertips over the smooth stone of a fountain, no longer so mindful about posture or poise. 

“You seem more at ease here,” Aiden remarked. 

I glanced at him, surprised. Not just by the observation, but by how true it was.

“The gardens suit you,” he added.

“I—” I cleared my throat, suddenly dry. “I hadn’t realized I was that obvious.”

“I’m quite perceptive, Princess,” he said. “I would not be much of a knight if I weren’t.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I said after a moment. 

I sighed softly and then continued, “I suppose too, that it’s been some time since I’ve felt like the girl I used to be. This place, it—”

Something brushed against my wrist. 

I froze. 

My breath caught as I looked down. A bee rested there, wings still, oblivious to the havoc it had just wrecked.

“Sir Aiden,” I said, my voice barely more than air. Then again, sharper this time, panic lacing my words. “Aiden. I—there’s a bee. I can’t—”

My chest tightened, breath coming in short and choppy bursts. 

He was there instantly.

“You’re okay,” he said quietly. “Don’t move.”

“Allergic,” I huffed out. “Aiden, please.”

“Look at me, Monroe.” My eyes snapped to his, filled with reassurance and unshakable calm. His hand closed gently around my wrist. “You’re going to be fine. Steady now.”

I could only nod. 

His gaze never wavered as he lifted his hand, guiding the insect away with careful precision. 

Only once it was gone did he exhale. 

“You’re okay,” he repeated. 

His hand lingered on my skin, and when I looked up, I found his gaze had not strayed from me.

There was unmistakable concern there, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had been frightened too. Not of the bee, but of what might have happened to me.

Aiden cleared his throat. “We should get you back inside, Princess.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I think you might be right.”

We retraced our steps through the garden, and I noticed Aiden had shifted closer, his eyes scanning the garden for any new danger—bees, or anything else. 

My chest tightened, but in an entirely different way. He had learned of a new threat and would be ready to step in at moment’s notice.

It struck me then that he wasn’t just knight sworn to duty. He was watching me, truly watching me. And that both unsettled and reassured me.

Chapter Six

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