Falling for her highness

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Rye lingered by my door, unsure whether to knock.

He had heard everything — the shouting, the heartbreak, the silence that followed. Servants whispered. Even the guards had glanced at him with unease as he passed. No one dared disturb me.

But he did.

He raised his hand and knocked once, then twice, softly.

No answer.

"Evelynne," he said gently through the door. "It's me."

Still nothing.

He hesitated only a moment longer before slowly pushing the door open.

My room was dark, lit only by the flicker of a candle on my desk. I sat by the window, legs pulled up to my chest, my arms wrapped tightly around them, head pressed against the glass.

He closed the door behind him and stepped closer, careful not to make a sound until he stood beside me.

"You're going to make yourself sick sitting there like that."

I didn't answer. Didn't even blink.

Rye crouched down beside me, resting his arm lightly on the windowsill. "You don't have to talk. I just didn't want you to be alone."

My voice was hoarse when it came. "I want to be alone."

"I know," he said quietly. "But I also know how it feels to be left behind."

That made me glance at him, just briefly. My eyes were swollen, lashes wet. "You don't know anything about it."

He didn't flinch. "Maybe not. But I know what it's like to want someone who's walking away from you."

That silenced me.

Rye turned his eyes to the rain outside, speaking slowly, honestly. "Rowen's a fool to leave you like this. And I'll say that, even if it earns me a slap or worse."

I let out a broken sound — part laugh, part sob.

"I'm not trying to replace him," Rye continued, softer now. "But I won't let you drown alone in this, Evelynne. Not while I'm here."

I looked at him again. Really looked at him this time. And for a fleeting moment, I didn't see a nobleman's son or a friend. I saw someone who had stayed.

He reached up carefully and wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. "You don't have to forgive him tonight. Or ever. But you don't have to break alone."

I didn't speak, but my head leaned, slowly, onto his shoulder. And he didn't move — just sat there beside me, holding the silence like a fragile thing.

He would protect me, Rye told himself.

Even if it meant keeping me from remembering how much I still loved Rowen.

*****

Rowen sat on the edge of a narrow cot, the only light in the room coming from a dying lantern beside him. The room was silent except for the occasional creak of the old wooden walls and the faint howling of the wind outside.

His uniform itched at the collar. His hands were calloused from the ride. Dust clung to his boots.

But none of that compared to the ache inside his chest.

He rested his elbows on his knees and lowered his head into his hands.

He had made it through the gate. He had ridden through the forest, past the hills they used to race down. Past the river they once swam in. Past the garden that still smelled like her laughter.

But it wasn't until now—when there was no turning back—that the weight of it all dropped fully onto his shoulders.

He had left her.

He could still see her face from earlier—tear-streaked and full of disbelief.

Still hear her voice. "You're leaving? Just like that?"

His breath hitched.

What had he done?

He pressed a hand to his chest, as if trying to quiet the storm inside. But it only worsened.

Everything in him was screaming to go back. To run through the night and fall at her feet and say, I didn't want this either. I just didn't know how to stay without becoming less than what you deserve.

He thought he'd be stronger than this. That by leaving, he was doing the right thing.

But nothing about this felt right.

He lay back on the stiff mattress, eyes open to the shadows above.

No stars in the ceiling. No wind chimes. No faint scent of garden roses.

No Evelynne.

And for the first time since he was a boy…

Rowen felt truly, completely alone.