Page 15
Story: His Forbidden Princess
"It was my duty," I respond, the lie bitter on my tongue.
Something flickers in her eyes—hurt, perhaps disappointment. "Of course. Duty above all else."
"Always."
She studies my face for a moment longer, as if searching for some sign of the man who kissed her in that alley, who confessed forbidden desires in a safehouse. I keep my expression impassive, though it costs me more than she can know.
"Goodbye, Captain Vorex." She turns and ascends the stairs, her borrowed dress whispering against the stone steps.
I remain at the bottom until she disappears from view, then force myself to walk away. By now, my absence will have been noted. Questions will be asked. I need to fabricate explanations, resume my post, pretend nothing has changed while everything has.
My quarters are spartan, as befits a soldier. I change quickly into my uniform, the familiar weight of it settling on my shoulders like a sentence. The sword at my hip, the dagger in myboot, the insignia of the royal guard on my breast—all symbols of my sworn oath to protect.
An oath I betrayed the moment I followed her instead of reporting her absence. The moment I kissed her instead of maintaining professional distance. The moment I took her to the safehouse instead of returning her directly to the palace.
I examine my reflection in the small mirror above my washing basin. The same scarred face stares back at me, unchanged by the night's events. Only my eyes betray me—something haunted lurks there now, something hungry and desperate that I must control at all costs.
By the time I report for duty, the palace is fully awake. Captain Merritt raises an eyebrow at my appearance.
"Late night, Vorex?"
"Patrol duty," I lie smoothly. "Eastern quarter had reports of suspicious activity."
He nods, accepting the explanation without question. My reputation serves me well—Dain Vorex, the taciturn, dutiful captain who volunteers for extra shifts, who has no life beyond service to the crown.
If only he knew.
"You're assigned to the princess today. Council meeting this morning, then private audience with the king." He hands me the duty roster, already moving on to other matters.
I scan the schedule, noting with grim resignation that I'll be in Lirien's presence almost continuously today. A test of my resolve, of my ability to stand silent and unaffected while remembering the taste of her lips, the softness of her skin beneath my calloused fingers.
The morning passes in a blur of rigid professionalism. I escort Lirien to the council meeting, standing at attention behind her chair, eyes focused on a point above the councilors' heads. She plays her part perfectly—the dutiful princess,attentive and composed, offering insights when appropriate. No one looking at her would guess she spent the night wandering city streets, dancing in taverns, challenging her bodyguard's control in a safehouse.
No one except me.
I notice the small signs of fatigue—the slight shadows beneath her eyes, carefully concealed with powder; the way she stifles a yawn behind her hand; the extra cup of strong tea she requests midway through the meeting. I notice, too, the distance she maintains, never once glancing in my direction, never acknowledging my presence.
As we should be. As we must be.
The council meeting concludes, and I follow her to the private audience with the king. Outside his study, she pauses, squaring her shoulders like a soldier preparing for battle.
"Wait here, Captain," she says, voice formal and distant. "I'll call if I need you."
I bow slightly, eyes downcast. "Yes, Your Highness."
The doors close behind her, leaving me alone in the corridor with my thoughts—dangerous companions after last night. I force myself to focus on my surroundings, on potential threats, on anything but the memory of her pressed against me in that alley.
I'm so intent on my mental discipline that I almost miss the hushed conversation between two passing courtiers.
"—announcement at midday. The foreign delegation arrived last night?—"
"—Prince Aldric himself? How fortunate?—"
"—such a handsome match for our princess?—"
Their voices fade as they turn the corner, but their words remain, settling like lead in my stomach. So it's happening already. The betrothal Lirien mentioned, the duty she can't escape.
The foreign prince who will claim what I can never have.
Something flickers in her eyes—hurt, perhaps disappointment. "Of course. Duty above all else."
"Always."
She studies my face for a moment longer, as if searching for some sign of the man who kissed her in that alley, who confessed forbidden desires in a safehouse. I keep my expression impassive, though it costs me more than she can know.
"Goodbye, Captain Vorex." She turns and ascends the stairs, her borrowed dress whispering against the stone steps.
I remain at the bottom until she disappears from view, then force myself to walk away. By now, my absence will have been noted. Questions will be asked. I need to fabricate explanations, resume my post, pretend nothing has changed while everything has.
My quarters are spartan, as befits a soldier. I change quickly into my uniform, the familiar weight of it settling on my shoulders like a sentence. The sword at my hip, the dagger in myboot, the insignia of the royal guard on my breast—all symbols of my sworn oath to protect.
An oath I betrayed the moment I followed her instead of reporting her absence. The moment I kissed her instead of maintaining professional distance. The moment I took her to the safehouse instead of returning her directly to the palace.
I examine my reflection in the small mirror above my washing basin. The same scarred face stares back at me, unchanged by the night's events. Only my eyes betray me—something haunted lurks there now, something hungry and desperate that I must control at all costs.
By the time I report for duty, the palace is fully awake. Captain Merritt raises an eyebrow at my appearance.
"Late night, Vorex?"
"Patrol duty," I lie smoothly. "Eastern quarter had reports of suspicious activity."
He nods, accepting the explanation without question. My reputation serves me well—Dain Vorex, the taciturn, dutiful captain who volunteers for extra shifts, who has no life beyond service to the crown.
If only he knew.
"You're assigned to the princess today. Council meeting this morning, then private audience with the king." He hands me the duty roster, already moving on to other matters.
I scan the schedule, noting with grim resignation that I'll be in Lirien's presence almost continuously today. A test of my resolve, of my ability to stand silent and unaffected while remembering the taste of her lips, the softness of her skin beneath my calloused fingers.
The morning passes in a blur of rigid professionalism. I escort Lirien to the council meeting, standing at attention behind her chair, eyes focused on a point above the councilors' heads. She plays her part perfectly—the dutiful princess,attentive and composed, offering insights when appropriate. No one looking at her would guess she spent the night wandering city streets, dancing in taverns, challenging her bodyguard's control in a safehouse.
No one except me.
I notice the small signs of fatigue—the slight shadows beneath her eyes, carefully concealed with powder; the way she stifles a yawn behind her hand; the extra cup of strong tea she requests midway through the meeting. I notice, too, the distance she maintains, never once glancing in my direction, never acknowledging my presence.
As we should be. As we must be.
The council meeting concludes, and I follow her to the private audience with the king. Outside his study, she pauses, squaring her shoulders like a soldier preparing for battle.
"Wait here, Captain," she says, voice formal and distant. "I'll call if I need you."
I bow slightly, eyes downcast. "Yes, Your Highness."
The doors close behind her, leaving me alone in the corridor with my thoughts—dangerous companions after last night. I force myself to focus on my surroundings, on potential threats, on anything but the memory of her pressed against me in that alley.
I'm so intent on my mental discipline that I almost miss the hushed conversation between two passing courtiers.
"—announcement at midday. The foreign delegation arrived last night?—"
"—Prince Aldric himself? How fortunate?—"
"—such a handsome match for our princess?—"
Their voices fade as they turn the corner, but their words remain, settling like lead in my stomach. So it's happening already. The betrothal Lirien mentioned, the duty she can't escape.
The foreign prince who will claim what I can never have.