Chapter 12

When I opened my eyes that morning, I found myself lying beside Prince Rowan. I had forgotten that I went to bed with him by my side. That he has asked me to come into bed with him. My cheeks tinged a little at the thought. The early light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a soft glow on his sleeping face. I listened to his gentle breathing, allowing myself a moment to appreciate the serenity of the scene. It wasn’t often that I got to see him like this, free from the burdens of the day and the constant struggle against his body.

I shifted slightly, careful not to wake him just yet. The bed was incredibly comfortable, far more so than the floor I usually slept on in the storeroom. I couldn’t deny that I had slept better than I had in a long long time. The plush mattress and the warmth of another body beside me had wrapped me in a cocoon of comfort, but I wouldn’t tell him that. I couldn’t afford to let him think I was growing too accustomed to such luxuries.

After all he was my master, he was probably just doing a kind gesture by telling me to sleep next to him.

As if sensing that I was awake, Prince Rowan stirred and opened his eyes. He turned his head to look at me, a sleepy smile playing on his lips.

"Good morning, Ariadne," he said, his voice still rough with sleep. "How did you sleep?"

I returned his smile, trying to keep my tone light. "Very well, thank you, Your Highness."

He propped himself up on one elbow, looking more awake by the second. "I’m glad to hear it. I know it’s not your usual bed."

I nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt for not being entirely honest about my living situations. He once asked where I slept and I told him they had helped me put up a bed in the other room. But there was no other room, only the tiny storeroom that I laid on every night. But before I could dwell on it, I remembered my duties. I needed to prepare his breakfast. I started to sit up, but Prince Rowan reached out and gently took my hand.

"Wait," he said, a mysterious glint in his eyes. "I have a surprise for you."

Surprise? My heart skipped a beat. What could he possibly have in store for me? I watched as he shifted, and then, to my utter astonishment, he lifted his leg.

I gasped, my eyes wide. "Your highness... your leg! You moved it!"

The words felt surreal on my lips, but there was no denying what I had seen. He had actually moved his leg. My heart swelled with joy and disbelief.

"It’s not much," he said, his smile widening, "but it’s a start."

A start? It was everything! I couldn’t contain my happiness. I jumped up from the bed, clapping my hands and laughing with pure, unfiltered joy. Prince Rowan, who had been confined to his bed for so long, was finally regaining control of his legs. It was a miracle, a sign that perhaps all the prayers and treatments were finally paying off.

But my elation was short-lived. My excited scream had clearly carried through the thick walls, and there was a sudden, tense knock on the door. My heart sank. I should have been more careful. We both knew the implications if anyone found out about his progress too soon.

Rowan’s expression turned serious. "Ariadne, remember, we can’t let anyone know about this yet. Promise me you won’t say a word."

I nodded vigorously. "I promise, Your highness. I won’t tell anyone."

Taking a deep breath, I walked to the door, my hand hesitating on the handle. The joy I had felt moments before was already beginning to wane, replaced by a gnawing sense of foreboding. When I finally opened the door, my mood plummeted further. Standing there was Lark, his expression just as slimy and slippery as he was.

Lark strode in. His eyes were sharp and predatory, scanning the room before settling on me. "What was the commotion about?" he demanded, his voice cold.

I forced a smile and straightened my dress, willing my voice to remain steady. "I fell," I said, meeting his gaze. "I screamed because I was startled, but I'm fine now."

Lark's eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer. "That didn’t sound like a fall. It sounded like you were excited about something. Tell me, what good news do you have for me that you’d want to share?”

He asked and I shook my head.

“There’s no news anywhere. I told you, I fell and I screamed a little. That’s all that happened.

“You're lying," he said, his voice low and dangerous. He reached out as if to touch me, his fingers inches from my arm, when a loud call echoed through the chambers.

"Isabelle!" Prince Rowan's voice rang out, authoritative and urgent.

“Isabelle where are you?!”

I seized the opportunity. "I have to tend to the Prince," I said quickly, moving towards the door. Lark's hand dropped, but his eyes never left me as I made my way to the prince's chamber. I could feel his presence following me, a shadow that loomed too close for comfort.

As I entered Prince Rowan's quarters, I felt a momentary relief.

“What do you need?! What can I get you?"

Prince Rowan pointed to the sheets.

“I think it needs changing. I’m afraid you’ll have to move me and change the sheets.”

I nodded.

“Right away your highness.”

My relief was short-lived. Lark stepped in behind me, his posture rigid and confrontational. He didn't even acknowledge the Prince, his eyes still fixed on me.

“And you? What are you doing here Lark?”

He asked him but Lark’s eyes refused to move from mine.

“Pay no heed to me your highness. My business is with the Lady Isabelle.”

I turned to Prince Rowan with pleading eyes, not knowing what next to say or do.

Prince Rowan's eyes flicked to Lark, his expression hardening. "Stay away from my wife, Lark," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "She is under my protection."

Lark scoffed, a derisive sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "What protection can you offer, Prince Rowan?”

The way he called out Prince Rowan. It almost sounded like he was mocking him. How could he talk to his own prince that way?!??

Even if he was deposed, should the respect still not remain? Was he still not a prince?

“There's not much a cripple can do your highness.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and cruel. I felt a surge of anger and disbelief. How dare he speak to the Prince like that? I turned to Lark, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and indignation. "Show some respect, Lark! He is still your Prince."

Lark's eyes flashed with contempt.

“I suggest you stay out of this.”

“Respect?!?! What do you know about respect?! I've shown too much respect already," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "A deposed Prince like him doesn't deserve my respect or my time."

He turned to leave, but not before his gaze locked onto mine, his eyes cold and filled with unspoken threats. "And you, I'm coming back for you, Lady Isabelle," he whispered, the words chilling and final. Then he was gone, leaving a silence that felt suffocating.

I turned to Prince Rowan, my heart pounding in my chest. He reached out and took my hand, his grip warm and reassuring. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

I nodded, but the fear lingered, a dark cloud that refused to dissipate. "I'll be fine," I whispered, though I wasn't sure if I believed it.

The Prince's eyes held mine, full of worry and determination. "I won't let him harm you," he promised. "We'll find a way to deal with him."

I wanted to believe him, to take comfort in his words, but Lark's threat echoed in my mind. And reality was staring at me right in the face. There was no way the Prince could protect me if he could not walk. Or if he had no real power.



There was no way out of this situation. At least no way out that guaranteed that I would be safe from the grubby fingers of Lark.