The following afternoon, Alice stood behind me at the vanity, pulling my waves into a neat braided crown atop my head.
I studied my reflection in the mirror. On the surface, I appeared calm and composed–ready for an afternoon of tea with the ladies. Beneath the surface, my nerves were anything but.
“There,” she said as she set the last pin in my hair. “Sir Aiden should be arriving shortly.”
My chest tightened at the sound of his name.
I gave myself one last glance in the mirror before rising and moving into the adjoining sitting room.
The knock at the door came then, and heat rushed to my cheeks before I could stop it.
Each of Aiden’s footsteps matched the drumming of my heartbeat, and when he stopped before me, the rhythm stuttered.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
“Your Highness,” he said, inclining his head in a careful bow.
“Sir Aiden.”
I curtsied, but when I looked up, Aiden was already moving toward the door.
“If you are ready, Princess.” He held open the door.
My mouth opened, then closed. My brows creased faintly.
“I am,” I finally managed.
As I moved past him, he did not meet my eyes.
We walked in silence through the long corridors, the space between us wider than it had been before, the echo of our footsteps the only sound.
“Thank you for escorting me,” I said, glancing at him, waiting for something.
The silence stretched between us.
His jaw tightened before he finally said, “As is my duty, Your Highness.”
My steps nearly faltered.
Your Highness?
“Aiden.”
He did not stop. He continued walking ahead, his hand resting atop the round pommel of his sword, his fingers tightening around it.
I quickened my pace, just slightly. “Sir Aiden,” I tried again.
“Your High—”
“Stop that,” I said. “Since when have you begun addressing me so formally?”
He straightened, his posture tightening.
“I…” his voice was strained.
His shoulders loosened just slightly, something in him giving way.
“Princess, I—”
Laughter filled the corridor.
His shoulders snapped back, his posture going rigid once more.
“Come, Your Highness,” he said. “The ladies are expecting you.”
I stared at his back a moment too long before my feet finally moved.
Aiden stopped just outside the parlor and opened the door for me.
I cast him one last glance before stepping inside, but he did not meet my gaze.
Something in my chest tightened painfully.
I tried to give the ladies before me my full attention, but despite my best efforts, my focus kept slipping to Aiden standing guard just inside the doors.
My responses came a beat too late. I had to work too hard to say the right thing, to smile and laugh at the right moments.
If any of the ladies noticed, they did not remark on it.
When the tea concluded, I was the last to leave.
The walk back to the sitting room was painfully long. Quiet.
With every step, my nerves grated.
When we neared the door, I stopped abruptly in front of Aiden, lifting my chin up to meet his eyes.
“Aiden.”
His gaze slid to mine. “Your Highness.”
“What is this?”
He held my gaze, but neither his eyes nor his expression offered me anything.
I curled my fingers into my palms, my nails leaving half-moons in my skin.
“Good day, Sir Aiden.”
Without another word, I turned on my heel and entered the sitting room.
The next few days were the same.
Titles. Formalities.
Distance.
By the day of the jousting tournament, I had come to expect it. So when the knock came at my door, I braced myself for more of the same.
But when I opened the door and found Sir William in Aiden’s place, something in me faltered.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” Sir William greeted.
It took me a moment too long to find my tongue.
“Sir William.” I curtsied before stepping into the corridor. “Where is Sir Aiden?”
“He has already departed for the arena, Your Highness,” he said.
My chest tightened.
“I see.” I turned forward. “Very well.”
We met Alexander in the courtyard, where he waited beside the carriage that would take us to the tournament just outside of Bedford.
Alexander helped me up and then settled across from me.
After a few polite exchanges, silence fell over the carriage. Yet it felt nothing like the silence that had stretched between Aiden and me.
Alexander’s gaze moved over me, slow and deliberate. “You seem distracted.”
“Merely thoughtful, Your Majesty,” I said.
“Mm.” He turned to the window.
By the time we arrived, the grounds were already alive. The hum of the crowd was thick with anticipation. The scent of roasted meats and fresh ale wafted from the stalls. Music drifted through the air.
Alexander stepped from the carriage and offered me his hand. I took it, and he guided me down.
We were escorted through the gathering crowd and into the raised stands. Our seats were positioned high above the arena, providing a commanding view of the field below.
Shortly after we settled, a herald stepped forward to address the crowd, his voice carrying across the arena as he spoke of honor, sportsmanship, and chivalry.
As he continued, a procession of armored knights on horseback was led onto the field, each bearing their kingdom’s banner.
My gaze caught on Bedford’s banner, its vibrant red, white, and yellow snapping boldly in the wind.
“I wasn’t aware Bedford had entered a knight,” I said, my attention sharpening.
“We enter one each year,” Alexander answered proudly. “Bedford has long held a distinguished reputation in the tournaments.”
My gaze drifted to the field below, settling on the Bedford knight. He turned, lifting his head to the stands.
The knight raised his visor.
Vivid green eyes met mine.
My breath caught.
“Aiden.”
“You recognized him rather quickly,” Alexander said beside me.
“He is difficult to miss.”
The words came too easily. I smoothed my expression, willing my composure back into place before turning to him.
Alexander studied me for a moment. “Indeed,” was all he said before he returned his attention to the field below.
The remaining knights cleared the field, leaving only Aiden and his opponent in the arena.
As the herald announced their names, they rode to opposite ends of the field, turning their horses neatly into position.
The crowd swelled with cheers.
My gaze remained on Aiden.
His squire retrieved the banner and placed a lance in his hand.
A marshal stepped into the center of the field and raised his trumpet. The call rang out and both knights spurred their horses into a full gallop toward one another.
My pulse quickened as Aiden made his first pass.
Both lances missed their mark.
They returned to their starting positions.
Aiden adjusted his grip on his lance, his movements unhurried. He sat tall in the saddle, composed, as if the first pass had been nothing at all.
Down the field, his opponent’s hand tightened around the reins. Through the narrow slits of his visor, his gaze fixed on Aiden—sharp, intent, and edged with something less controlled.
At the marshal’s signal, they urged their horses onward. As they closed the distance, they tucked their lances beneath their arms, angling them across the tilt.
I held my breath, my eyes fixed on the opponent’s coronel—the metal five-point crown at the tip of the lance.
Metal screeched against steel.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my hand finding Alexander’s wrist and tightening.
A lance struck the ground, its coronel mangled—Aiden’s opponent’s.
I dragged in a breath.
I glanced up at Alexander. His eyes dipped briefly to his wrist, then returned to my face. “You seem invested,” he said.
I withdrew my hand, clearing my throat. “I did not attend many jousts in Celermare. I am not used to this level of… intensity.”
“I see,” he said, his gaze settling on Aiden.
I resettled in my seat, fixing my attention below, where Aiden and his opponent prepared for the final pass.
Aiden remained composed atop his horse, his grip firm on the lance. A faint score marked his armor where he’d taken the blow, the metal there slightly bent.
At the other end, his opponent’s squire readied a fresh lance. The knight shouted something at him before yanking the lance from his grip and tucking it beneath his arm.
Once more, the marshal stepped into the center of the field.
The trumpet had barely finished sounding when his opponent dug his heels into his horse and surged forward.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
“He can’t—” The words died in my throat.
Aiden charged forward.
Steel rang. Wood splintered.
A helmet tore free.
I was on my feet before I had realized I moved.
A body hit the ground.
The world went quiet. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
It felt like ages before the dust began to settle.
A knight lay motionless on the ground, his head turned away.
Please… it can’t be.
My eyes lifted to the knight still astride his horse.
He lifted his visor.
Aiden’s eyes locked on mine.
Air rushed back into my lungs.
My mind went fuzzy, my knees threatening to give out beneath me. I gripped the railing, steadying myself.
His eyes softened, just for a moment, before he dropped his visor and steered his horse off the field.
“Princess.” Alexander’s voice came quietly, but no less commanding for it.
His hand was a firm weight at my back, and I straightened, smoothing my skirts.
“I do not think I shall ever grow accustomed to such a spectacle,” I said, forcing my breath to steady.
“No,” he said after a moment. “I imagine not.”
His watched me as I settled back into my seat.
Another moment passed before he took his own seat. “Sir Aiden will be joining us shortly,” he said.
“Of course,” I replied lightly, keeping my gaze trained on the next competitors entering the field.
It wasn’t until after the first pass that I felt the shift in the air beside me.
I dared not tear my gaze away from the field, but from the corner of my vision, I caught sight of two steel boots beside my chair.
“Sir Aiden,” Alexander said, rising.
“Your Majesty.” Aiden bowed.
“That was a decisive pass. You’ve done Bedford proud.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
I might have been able to ignore Aiden’s presence if not for the scent of pine and leather that curled around me. It was a scent I had become far too familiar with—one I had not been able to wash from my skin since the balcony.
I looked up.
His dark hair was slick with sweat, his armor dusted with dirt—the mark from the earlier hit standing stark against the metal. He cradled his helmet in one arm.
“Your Highness,” Aiden said.
“Sir Aiden,” I said, inclining my head.
“Have a seat, Sir Aiden,” Alexander said, gesturing to the chair behind me. “The matches have been… eventful.”
My fingers tensed against the arm of the chair.
For a fraction of a second, Aiden’s gaze held mine. Then he looked away.
“Your Majesty,” he said, inclining his head before taking the seat.
I kept my attention anchored on the field below, though I scarcely registered the movement of horses or the ring of steel.
I was acutely aware of Aiden behind me—of his nearness, of the faint shift of steel as he moved, of the quiet, steady sound of his breath.
Beside me, Alexander’s presence pressed just as close, the air around me tightening and leaving little room to breathe. Every subtle movement he made felt rather than seen.
The world below blurred, but I missed nothing of them.
Midway through the next round, I felt Alexander’s gaze on me.
I straightened, forcing myself to follow the next pass—the charge, the strike, the outcome—and adjusted my reactions. As I should have from the beginning.
Every breath I drew was controlled, every movement deliberate. I folded my hands in my lap, more mindful of the movement than ever before.
I could not afford another misstep.
Relief was not a strong enough word to describe what I felt when the final match was called and the crowd began to thin.
The carriage ride back to Bedford had passed in relative quiet, the sound of hooves and the grind of gravel beneath the wheels forming a steady, grounding rhythm.
I was grateful Aiden had not ridden with us, yet his absence did little to ease the tension that coiled tight in my chest.
Riding alone with Alexander felt… worse.
Every breath, every glance, every word felt measured in a way it had never been before.
It had never been this difficult to keep myself in check, and by the time the palace gates came into view, a bone-deep exhaustion had settled into me.
Chapter Fourteen
The Feral Bookster 