A life not chosen

Devlin froze. Not in any obvious way, not outwardly—but Edeana noticed it. A subtle shift in his stance, a flicker of tension that tightened across his shoulders. A slow, deliberate breath escaped him, like a warrior donning armor before stepping into the fray.

"Enter," he said.

His voice was different now—steadier, fuller. The familiar quiet strength remained, but it was wrapped in something colder. Commanding. It was the kind of voice one would hear issuing orders on a battlefield, and it sent a ripple of unease through the air between them. Edeana caught her breath, trying to quell the sudden unease that rose in her chest.

The three soldiers stepped inside, boots thudding softly against the wood. The door clicked shut behind them with a finality that seemed to echo louder than it should have.

"You were due at week's end, Your Highness. When you failed to arrive, Her Majesty sent us to ensure your safe return" The soldier's words were clipped and respectful, but there was an edge to them, one that carried an undertone of expectation.

Edeana's stomach tightened.

Your Highness.

The words echoed in the quiet like a blow, reverberating against the walls of the room. Her heart thudded, but she said nothing—she couldn't. Not here. She remained silent, watching, absorbing, sorting truth from fiction in real time.

Devlin didn't flinch. He turned to her, and though a trace of his usual dry humor ghosted across his lips, there was a distance in his eyes now—a coolness she hadn't seen before. A distance that didn't quite reach his voice, but settled heavily in the space between them.

"Edeana," he said, his voice polished and formal, "allow me to introduce Sir Edward Knightley, Captain of the Royal Guard."

She inclined her head slightly, the movement smooth and controlled, but a storm brewed beneath the calm surface of her thoughts. Neutral, distant, and yet her mind raced. Royal Guard—the very words made her heart skip, tightening with a sharp, uncomfortable twist. She hadn't imagined him to be so entrenched in it, to have this weight around him.

Knightley bowed in turn. "My lady."

Devlin shifted focus. "I was already en route to the capital," he said, his tone all duty now—measured and clipped. "I had matters that required discretion. Had Her Majesty shown patience, we would have arrived within the next four days."

Knightley gave no offense. "With respect, sire, urgency was warranted. The man believed to be behind the last attempt on your life—he was captured."

Devlin stilled. "When?"

"A fortnight ago, along the eastern trade route. He offered no resistance. Carried false papers. Too clean. It didn't sit right."

"If you have indeed apprehended the suspected assassin, I fail to see the necessity for all this ostentation," Devlin remarked, his voice sharp, now tinged with a colder edge.

A brief silence followed.

Knightley's voice grew grimmer. "He escaped custody the very day the Queen's missive was dispatched."

Devlin's brow furrowed, the hint of alarm flashing across his expression. He stepped forward, the mantle of command settling fully over his shoulders. "You think he allowed himself to be taken."

"We believe he was following the messenger. Waiting for the trail to lead him to you."

Edeana's pulse spiked. She didn't speak, but every word sank in deep. The room felt colder, the weight of their conversation settling into her chest like a stone. Her thoughts became disjointed as she pieced together the details. This wasn't just a mission gone awry. This was something bigger, darker, and far more dangerous.

Devlin's jaw tightened briefly, his silence lingering for a moment. "The Queen, it seems, divulged my whereabouts along with that missive."

"We are not entirely certain whether he succeeded in reaching you, Your Highness. However, when you had not arrived at the designated checkpoints we had established to monitor your route some days past, Her Majesty the Queen had commanded a contingent of soldiers to ensure your safety."

A heavy silence followed. The only sound was the wind brushing snow against the windows, a low and constant whisper that seemed to echo the tension in the room. Devlin's gaze never wavered as he absorbed the words, his face growing colder by the moment.

Devlin's voice, when it came, was iron. "I assume you've established a perimeter?"

"We have men at every entrance and stationed in the woods."

Edeana's eyes were on him, and something inside her twisted. This was not the man who shared warm glances across bookshelves or whispered half-sarcastic remarks under his breath. This man—this Prince—was made of steel. His body was taut, his posture rigid, the weight of command now fully on his shoulders.

Sir Knightley nodded once more. "We ride at dawn. But I advise, sire, that you remain within this room for the night. No risks."

Devlin gave a sharp nod. "Understood."

The guards turned to leave. Knightley hesitated, glancing toward Edeana, but said nothing before stepping out. The door clicked closed behind them with a quiet finality.

The quiet that followed was almost unbearable. It stretched between them, thick with unspoken words and a thousand unsaid thoughts. Edeana stood still, her eyes never leaving Devlin as she tried to reconcile the man who stood before her with the one she had come to know. The transformation was stark. Even his posture had changed—more squared, more still. He was no longer the charming, slightly unpredictable man who had laughed with her over dinner or stolen glances when no one was looking. No, this was a Prince, a soldier, a leader—someone who had been honed by a life filled with danger and responsibility.

She couldn't help herself. Her voice broke the silence, soft but resolute. "I see now why you move like a soldier," she said quietly. "Why you never sleep deeply."

His eyes met hers—level, tired, and weary in a way that made her heart ache for him. The world had changed him in ways she could not yet understand. "There have been three attempts in six months. The last one nearly succeeded."

The words hung in the air like an unspoken truth, and Edeana swallowed hard, trying to push past the lump in her throat. "You could have told me."

Devlin exhaled and sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, his hand pressing briefly over his eyes. The weight he carried was visible now, no longer hidden behind dry humor or disarming charm. "Would you have believed me if I had? I was after all a penniless steward in training."

She hesitated, unsure of how to respond, or if she should say anything at all. But her heart wouldn't let her stay silent.

"Devlin—" The name felt strange on her tongue now. "What does this mean for us?"

He looked up at her then. There was no prince in his eyes, no strategy, no mask of formality. Just a man, laid bare before her. A man who seemed lost and tired, struggling to find something in a life that had never allowed him peace.

"I don't know," he said, his voice raw, honest in a way she hadn't expected. "It may be selfish of me to confess this right now, but I want there to be an us. But my life… it's not something I would wish on anyone."

"I didn't ask you to wish it on me," she replied, quiet but certain. "I only want to know if there's room in it."

He stood then, closing the space between them. His voice was lower now, gentler, almost pleading as he spoke. "There's never room in the life I was born into. But I will make it. If you let me."

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, the warmth of the flames flickering across his face as he held her gaze. The silence that followed was heavy and unbearable.

"This is rather a great deal to take in. I think I might need a few days to understand it all. Will you give me until then?"

Returning her question with an understanding nod, they returned to bed in silence. The weight of unspoken thoughts pressing between them.

Though he lay beside her, Edeana felt adrift—untethered by the gravity of all that had been said and all that had not. Sleep, at last, crept in not as comfort, but as surrender; for she could carry no more questions tonight, nor shape answers from a heart still caught between fear and hope.