Y/N

_

"Come in," I said, my eyes glued to the view outside.

The door pushed open lightly, the soft creak of the wood ringing out into the room. I knew it was Timothée, but I didn't wish to speak with him. How could I? He made a fool of me in front of his court, and locked me in a room that wasn't mine. In the end, I knew I had too.

"What is it you want?" I frowned, crossing my arms. Turning away from the window, I saw the boy lingering by the door.

"To speak with you," he said, "privately."

"Haven't you already tried that?"

"I wish to try it again."

"No," I said, shaking my head, "I'd rather you not."

He cleared his throat, his hand reaching into his pocket. The corset around my waist was making it hard to breath, and with every second he wasted, I felt like passing out. Who even invented these things? I liked it better when I could wear whatever I wanted in Lourdes, without having to please anyone on the shape of my body. That's another thing I despise about kingdoms.

"I assume you know I'll be crowned King in three days' time," he said, his voice lowering to a quiet murmur.

"And why should that concern me?"

"Because..." he started, slipping his hand out of his pocket. He pulled out a small velvet box, the symbol of Valor embroidered onto the top, "...I want you to be by my side when that happens."

I took a step back, watching as he popped it open. A diamond ring was propped up on a small cushion, glinting off the setting sun. The band was gold-plated, vines marked into the metal. I had never seen any jewelry quite like it.

But I couldn't take it.

"Timothée," I whispered, "I cannot marry you."

"And why not?"

"Because I don't know you!" I exclaimed, retreating towards the bed, "and this is not my kingdom."

"It could be your kingdom, you could rule it by my side."

"Is that what marriage is to you?" I scoffed, "I'll say it again. I don't know you."

"You do know me. I'm the same person I was in Lourdes, no matter my title."

"You're not the same," I sighed, shaking my head, "the Timothée back then would have never taken me from my family, locked me in this tower, and only want to marry me for a title."

"That's not why I want to marry you."

"Oh, really? What is it then? Money? Looks? Tell me what it is and maybe I'll-"

He grabbed my wrist, and pushed my back against the bedpost, his arm clutched over my head. I snapped my mouth shut as he leaned in towards me, one of his curls grazing my forehead.

"Do you really think a King cares about money?" he muttered, his voice low.

I was too frozen to speak. I had never seen this aggressive side to him, and I would be lying if I said I didn't...like it. Besides the point, I still don't know if I can trust him, much less marry him.

"I won't give up on you," he said, lifting my chin with his hand, "even if you won't love me now, I'll wait."

I could see his serpent green eyes so much closer, staring straight back into mine. I waited, waiting for him to do anything, but he didn't. Instead, he dropped his arm, taking a step away from me and retreating towards the door.

"Dinner will be served in an hour," he said, "I expect to see you there."

Shutting the door behind him, I was left in the empty room, his presence still lingering like a ghost from the past. I fell back onto the mattress, my skin buzzing with the feeling of his touch.

But I knew I couldn't stay. With every passing moment, my city was facing another war. I had to leave tonight.

I made a plan to slip out after the banquet, stealing one of the stable horses and riding back to Lourdes. Getting over the border wouldn't be difficult, considering that I was just returning home, but I worried about the guards. They knew I wasn't allowed to leave, so they could easily stop me from doing so.

I had to go unnoticed.

_

Going unnoticed was apparently harder then it seemed.

Ella escorted me to the dining hall, but I was greeted by a mass of staring faces. Everyone watched as I was dragged down the hallway and guided to my chair.

A chair next to Timothée's.

"Why are they all staring at me," I whispered under my breath as I sat down, "can you tell them to stop?"

"They're not harmful," he responded, "I wouldn't worry."

A bowl of soup was pushed in front of me, and it didn't look half-a-bit appetizing. Clumps of broccoli were floating around in some murky yellow liquid, and I felt like gagging. I glanced over at the rest of the food, which looked edible. Ham, brisket, bread, and fruit assortments. Why did I have to get the soup?

"What is this?" I said, poking at the bowl with my spoon.

Timothée laughed, shaking his head, "it's tradition newcomers eat the soup."

"It looks disgusting."

"It's a test of loyalty," he shrugged, "if someone dares to eat it, we know they have enough strength to live in this kingdom."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then no one will trust you."

"That's rich, coming from you," I frowned, putting the spoon into the broth.

Everyone was still watching me as I lifted it up to my mouth, including Timothée. I rolled my eyes, drinking the liquid and swallowing it whole. The taste was putrid, a combination of rotten eggs and vinegar; I felt like throwing up. It managed to win everyone over, because they all turned back to their plates and moved on with their conversations.

"Do you trust me now?" I said, looking at the boy and raising an eyebrow.

"I always did," he smiled, lifting his wine glass as if to make a toast, "to Valor."

I set down my spoon, and lifted mine as well. The cold glass tickled my fingers, but I paid no mind.

"To Lourdes," I grinned.