Page 86 of The Dark Prince
I entwined my fingers with hers, trying to focus on her and not Maddeus, who was slowly inching away with Aella.
Isadora let out a startled sound that was half-laugh, half-sob and stared at me, her expression hard to read in the darkness. I didn’t care nearly every vassal was watching with bated breath, witnesses to my most vulnerable moments.
“I think …” she began softly, gazing at a spot over my shoulder, “that I’ve been in love with the idea of you for a while.”
My heart sank in my chest, and I bowed my head and stared at the ground. Here it came. She would ask for her freedom, and I’d grant it. Perhaps she would at least consent to stay as my lady here in the castle, and we could live separate lives. We—
“But I realized I loved you when I realized how far you would go to put aside your own wants and desires to protect those around you—that your sense of duty would always come first, because you were a noble, brave, and good man.”
My face crumpled under her onslaught. I was none of those things. She had an unrealistic image of who I was as a man—and that felt worse than her denying me.
“Oh no, you don’t.”
Isadora grabbed my ear and yanked me down until I was level with her eyes. The surrounding villagers gasped and murmured at seeing the Dark Prince brought to heel like a naughty child.
“You don’t get to pretend that you aren’t worthy of every bit of praise. You don’t get to pretend that you carried this massive burden on your shoulders most of your life, when it wasn’t even your curse! You gave your life for it, Tyr! You were dead in my arms!”
She was sobbing now, and I had to catch her as her knees gave out. What was she talking about? I wasn’t dead.
Together, we went to the ground. Frantically, Isadora wiped her eyes. “You are the one who doesn’t understand. The witch killed you. Your wounds killed you. I don’t know. But you were dead. Arne and his wife helped kill the witch, but it wasn’t enough to bring you back. Do you know what finally did?”
I was speechless. “What?” I asked, my voice nothing more than a croak.
Isadora spread her arms wide, pushing free of me and gesturing to everyone around us. “They did. Their love for you. Their admiration for you. I admit I’m biased as an idiot hopelessly in love with you, but if my glowing recommendations aren’t enough, then believe them. They love you and so do I.”
I turned to glance at the crowd, blinking back the tears in my eyes. I stood before them unmasked, and not a single person had cried out or pointed. No one had screamed, and no child cried at the sight of my marred flesh. Each man, woman, and child met my gaze, unflinching. A little girl ducked between her mother’s legs, ignoring the scolding. She ran right up to me and offered a small, flowered weed that sparkled with the last remnants of stardust.
“Thank you for keeping us safe from the beast.”
My throat tightened. I fought the rise of emotion hard and wondered why. I picked the child up and put her on my shoulders; her giggles echoed in the night air. Isadora slipped her free hand into mine.
“You’re welcome,” I whispered, not realizing I’d said it out loud until the crowd rushed toward me, everyone suddenly cheering and talking at once. Isadora laughed as everyone reached out to touch her and me, trying to lay hands on us and express their gratitude.
Out of the corner of my eye, Maddeus slipped away with Aella. I would deal with that later. For right now, I would accept the love and admiration of my people.
And my wife.
Always my wife.
Thirty Seven
ISADORA
The crowd refused to disperse, and after a while, someone started playing on a violin. A few hand drums appeared, and servants started flooding out from the castle loaded down with ham, potatoes, and pies. Men and women fetched tables from the village, and soon a full out festival was going on right on Tyr’s front lawn.
I knew Tyr wouldn’t change overnight, but it was a privilege to witness how he slowly opened up to everyone around him, starting with the little girl. He kept one hand clutched to me, and the other to her, as if she were the bridge between him and his acceptance of his people’s admiration and love. With the curse no longer weighing him down, he was already smiling easier.
I noticed Arne and his wife sneak off, and chose not to say anything. I hoped both took a long, well-deserved vacation.
“Lord Black, may we borrow you for a moment?”
Toke’s tone was serious, and Tyr turned toward him, the lightness and the small grin disappearing from his face. In the flash of a moment, he was again the tortured Lord Black, cursed to wear his burdens like a cloak.
Time would hopefully heal such wounds.
“What is it?” I asked, hoping to head off any more bad news. We’d had our share for the next century.
Toke shot Tyr and me a nervous glance, rubbing his neck. “It’s your father, the king.”
