Chapter 22

The days passed in a haze for Skylar and Gabriel. They navigated their newfound decision with a blend of hope and trepidation, seeking solace in each other's company as they prepared for the arrival of their child. Despite the uncertainties that loomed over them, Skylar found moments of peace in Gabriel's unwavering support and the quiet routines of daily life in Lionheart village.

However, beneath the surface tranquility, trouble brewed like a storm on the horizon. The decision to reject Prince Zachariah's proposal had not gone unnoticed. Rumors began to swirl through the village, carried on hushed whispers and furtive glances. Skylar sensed the shifting undercurrents, the subtle tension that hung in the air whenever she ventured into the village square or attended to her duties at the local market.

Chief Declan's disappointment had been palpable, his once-friendly demeanor giving way to a distant reserve. Skylar felt a pang of guilt each time their paths crossed, knowing that her choice had strained the fragile alliance between Lionheart and the neighboring kingdom.

One afternoon, as Skylar made her way home from the market, she felt a prickle of unease at the sight of unfamiliar faces lurking in the shadows of the village square. They were not villagers—their attire marked them as outsiders, strangers whose presence seemed out of place amidst the familiar surroundings of Lionheart.

Instinctively, Skylar quickened her pace, her heart hammering in her chest. She glanced around anxiously, searching for any sign of Gabriel or familiar faces that could offer reassurance. The air seemed charged with tension, a sense of foreboding that sent a shiver down her spine.

Before she could reach the safety of her cottage, a hand clamped down on her arm, startling her into a gasp of alarm. Skylar spun around to find herself face to face with a group of strangers, their expressions unreadable as they surrounded her with a steely resolve.

"Skylar," the apparent leader spoke, his voice low and commanding. "You have made a grave mistake."

Skylar's mind raced, panic rising within her like a tide. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice trembling despite her efforts to remain composed.

"We are emissaries of Prince Zachariah," another figure stepped forward, his features etched with a mixture of concern and determination. "He is deeply disappointed by your refusal."

Skylar's heart sank at the mention of Prince Zachariah's name. She had feared repercussions, but the reality of facing his emissaries sent a chill through her veins.

"I made my choice," Skylar replied firmly, struggling to keep her voice steady. "I cannot go back on it."

The leader's gaze hardened, his jaw clenching with barely contained frustration. "You do not understand the consequences of your actions," he warned, his tone ominous.

Skylar felt a surge of defiance, tempered by fear for herself and the village she had come to love. "What do you want from me?" she demanded, her voice tinged with desperation.

The emissaries exchanged glances, their deliberation wordless but weighted with unspoken implications. Finally, the leader spoke again, his voice softer but no less menacing.

"Prince Zachariah offers you one last chance," he said, his eyes boring into hers with unwavering intensity. "Accept his proposal, and all will be forgiven. Refuse, and face the consequences."

Skylar's breath caught in her throat. The ultimatum hung in the air like a sword poised to strike. She glanced around frantically, searching for any sign of help or escape. But the villagers had retreated into their homes, their faces hidden behind closed doors and shuttered windows.

She was alone, cornered by forces beyond her control. Fear and uncertainty clawed at her resolve, threatening to overwhelm her fragile defenses.

"I need time," Skylar whispered, her voice barely audible above the rush of blood in her ears.

The emissaries exchanged another glance, their expressions inscrutable. "Very well," the leader conceded reluctantly. "But not too much time. Prince Zachariah's patience wears thin."

With that ominous warning, the emissaries withdrew into the shadows, leaving Skylar trembling in their wake. She stood rooted to the spot, her mind racing with the weight of their words and the implications of their threat.

Inside her cottage, Skylar collapsed onto a chair, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Gabriel found her moments later, his expression a mask of concern as he knelt beside