The castle felt heavier that morning, as though every corridor and chamber knew the tension that had settled over us. The prince's distance yesterday still weighed on me, gnawing at my confidence, but there was no time to dwell. Elizabeth had escalated, and I needed a plan—one that would expose her lies once and for all.
I spent the morning quietly observing her from a distance. She moved with effortless grace, laughing at minor jokes, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear in a way that drew the eye, letting the smallest gestures speak volumes. But there was one mistake she always made: she underestimated me. She had a habit of leaving traces, little breadcrumbs for someone clever enough to follow.
I made my way to the servants' quarters, pretending casual interest in tidying up, my eyes scanning for anything unusual. That's when I found it—a note tucked under the maid's pillow, hastily scribbled but unmistakable:
"Do as I say. Keep him believing she wants only his wealth. If she doesn't stay away, I will make sure he thinks the worst of her. Do you understand?"
My pulse raced. Elizabeth had sent a direct threat, and the maid had carried it out. The evidence was undeniable: a written, deliberate scheme to manipulate the prince's perception of me.
Clutching the note, I moved quickly to the library. The prince was there, standing by a tall window, gazing out at the gardens, as if trying to escape the weight of the world—or perhaps my shadowed reputation.
"Your Highness," I said softly, stepping into the room. His gaze flicked to me, wary, distant, but not unkind.
"I…" he began, hesitating. "I don't know what to believe anymore."
I held the note out steadily. "This," I said simply, "is the truth. Elizabeth sent this to one of your servants, instructing her to make you believe lies about me. Everything you've heard… it was planned, deliberate."
He took the note, reading it carefully. I watched as confusion, surprise, and finally clarity passed over his face. His storm-gray eyes met mine, and this time, the doubt was gone, replaced with understanding.
"Isabella… I should have trusted you," he said quietly, his voice low but steady. "I should have seen it for what it was."
I lifted my chin, letting the faintest shadow of a smile touch my lips. "Yeah… you should have."
Without waiting for a response, I started walking toward the door. Tears stung my eyes—tears I didn't expect, emotions I hadn't realized I was feeling until this very moment. My heart thudded in my chest.
Before I could reach the threshold, a hand closed around my wrist. My stomach tightened as he spun me around, pulling me forward so quickly that I stumbled, landing just inches from his face. His eyes—stormy, intense, searching—were locked on mine.
"Isabella," he said, his voice low and steady, "you can't just walk away from me."
I opened my mouth, trying to speak, but words failed me. The closeness of him—the warmth, the intensity, the undeniable pull—made everything else fade away.
He leaned slightly closer, and this time, I didn't resist. I let the tension between us pull me in. My chest pressed against his, my lips brushing against his as if they had always belonged there. It was a brief kiss at first—gentle, testing—but then it deepened naturally, a slow, inevitable surrender to the spark I hadn't realized was burning between us.
When we finally pulled back, breaths mingling, I rested my forehead against his, heart hammering. "See you tomorrow...your highness." I whispered.
He brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, his thumb lingering against my cheek. "See you tomorrow."
That night, I would fall asleep trembling—not from fear, but from exhilaration. From the evidence I held, the trust we had begun to rebuild, and the undeniable connection between us. Elizabeth's schemes were far from over, but I felt the tide turning—and it was sweeter than I could have imagined.