The castle is breathtaking. There's simply no other word to describe it. We didn't manage to cover the entire place, though, since it would take more than a day to explore every corner. So I make Arthur take me to all the places I used to frequent before I lost my memories.
From the kitchens, where I'd sneak off to in the middle of the night in search of snacks. The gardens, where I would spend my days reading and growing some medicinal herbs for the healers. Then finally, the library, where I've spent most of my days huddled either with the scribes or in my office that the King had 'generously' built for me, cataloging books.
Arthur said I've spent more time here than any other, during the last few days leading towards my disappearance. It was the first place anyone would've thought to look for me at, and I can see why.
Rows upon rows of books lined the circular walls, stretching up the full height of the tower. It makes the whole structure look like it was built from messy rows of books, scrolls and manuscripts. I can't believe they are all ours, that all this knowledge belonged to our kingdom, his kingdom. Arthur certainly stunned me to silence when he said that I was the one who had founded the Order of the Scribes, a group of men and women dedicating their lives to recording and preserving knowledge for future generations.
While Vesper was off exploring or conquering new lands, I would be most happy here, tucked away sorting the books and manuscripts he brought back.
"Those are the new ones," Arthur had said, pointing to a pile of books stacked from floor to ceiling in one corner. "The pile you've never gotten around to record, Your Grace."
I can only take it all in silence after that, trying to reconcile this past version of myself with the one I am now. If my life had been so peaceful, and so full of purpose just like how Arthur had made it out to be, why did I ever want to leave? What made Vesper so suspicious of me?
We eventually end the tour in the courtyard, right at the place I was drawn to back in the dining room, when Vesper abruptly left me at breakfast. His silence still stinks, but I don't dwell on it. Or at least I try to, when Arthur excused himself and disappear somewhere to deal with last-minute emergencies, leaving me to explore the courtyard.
The guard stood at one of the entrances. I hadn't expected this much protection within the palace walls, but I suppose one can never be too sure. Then again, I'm starting to wonder if they're really guarding me, or making sure I'm not running away.
I follow the stone path, soon as I step into the courtyard, entranced by the towering hedges of red roses framing the garden like a dream. Tall, intricate arches encircle the space, holding up the ceiling that surrounds the courtyard. Even in the bright sunlight, the place exudes something ethereal, like it only existed in the old tales of magic.
But then, something catches my attention. There is a fountain in the center of the garden, and it's unlike any that I've ver seen nor remember.
It's ancient, that much I can tell, as I walk over to it. At its peak, stands a dragon with its mouth open in a silent roar, wings flared wide and intimidating as if it is poised for an attack. Its claws are clutching a shield with fierce protectiveness as water dripped down its legs. But what caught my attention was the crest on the shield its claws were clutching. The sword, the rose and the dragon, etched into stone. Identical to the emblem plastered all over the walls of the castle. The symbol of the House of Dragomir.
"Thought I could find you here," a voice called from behind. Vesper.
He stands there, hands clasped behind his back, dressed in the same outfit as before, but now with a golden crown perched atop his head. Its sharp edges glinting against the sunlight.
"Did you know, this is where we first met?" he asked, as if the earlier events hadn't happened as he stalked closer, hands clasped behind his back like he's assessing me.
"How did we meet?" I asked back, curious now.
Our shoulders touched. I don't have to see to know. His gaze is fixed on the dragon looming above us.
"Vala brought you here," he said, his voice distant as though recalling a memory. "She arrived during one of my infamous parties and laid you right here," he pointed to the ground I'm standing on, "unconscious and injured, as if she was offering you to me."
"Why did she do that?"
"I don't know," he replied, shrugging as his eyes drifted to his shoes. "We never get to find out why Vala had such a connection to you, when she is never fond of humans, in general."
He looks back up at me, turning halfway to face me.
"That's why you've spent so much time in the library," he said. "You were searching for answers."
I can't help but thought of the memory I've had of Tilda, scolding me for wandering too far into the forest. Something tells me there's a connection there, somehow. Even when I don't particularly understand it yet.
"You're not from here, Iris. I imagine you've guessed that much."
I nod slowly, registering his words.
"How was the tour?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject.
"It was breathtaking," I told him, my voice softening as I added, "You have a beautiful castle."
He smiled, clearly pleased.
His hand then shifted to the front, and that's when I saw what he had been hiding behind his back. A crown. The female counterpart to his own. It's gold catching the sunlight, edges sharp and gleaming with delicate wildflowers carved along its band, wild and intricate.
"I had it made the moment we married," he murmured, his lips twisting at a memory, my fingers tracing along the detailed carvings of the flowers and leaves.
"May I? he asked, holding it up between us.
I nod and lower my head, giving him the silent permission, sinking gently into a curtsy as he places the crown on my head. His hands linger, adjusting it carefully, making sure it sits just right.
There's just something about this moment. The carefulness in his movements. It all feels far too intimate. Far more intimate than the kisses we shared last night.
His hand grazed my cheek the moment I straightened back into a stand.
"I've missed seeing you like this, wearing my crown," he whispered, leaning down against my temple and pressing a soft kiss there.
The moment didn't last long, though.
I saw the way he changed, as if the walls were being rebuilt the moment he stepped back, putting a respectable distance between us. I didn't know why, but it made me chest tighten.
"Come on," he said, offering his arm, "they're waiting for us at the orangery."
"They?"
"Picnic. Lunch. With the others," he said curtly. "I'm sure Arthur has told you."
"Right," I replied, righting myself and taking the arm he offered. "I forgot."
There it is again, that look on his face as he leads me away from the fountain and out of the courtyard. It's as if I've suddenly sprouted a horn. Though it's just a flash, but it's there. It was gone the moment we walk past the guards.
Two guards fall into step behind us as we walk past the cloister then into a hallway. Vesper didn't make a move to dismiss them. He must think it necessary that we're guarded. Though from what? I don't know.
The hallway is cool and shadowed, its gray walls adorned with carvings framing the stained-glass windows. Sunlight trickled through in fractured hues of ruby, sapphire and gold. If the courtyard looks ethereal, the hallway screams power.
Servants and courtiers passing by paused into a low bow or curtsy before going on their ways. I only follow his lead in silence, offering a nod or a glance in return as we continue down yet another long corridor. His silence is awkwardly deafening but I'm too prideful to start a conversation, so I let him be.
The lights begin to change now, as we enter into yet another hallway. It's lighter, warmer and despite all the portraits that lined though these tall walls, judging us with regal stillness. Vesper purposefully slowed his pace, letting me feel the intimidation behind their judgment, no doubt. This wasn't part of the tour, so this place was new to me.
"My ancestors," he murmured softly, pride evident in his voice.
"Maybe one day we could have our portrait painted and hung here too. For our future children to see, don't you think?" he said it like he was trying to provoke a reaction out of me.
I scowled and rolled my eyes defiantly. He doesn't suspect anything, does he?
"Depends on whether we manage to have one," I retorted, then instantly regretted my words.
He looked hurt for a moment before it vanished once again. If I didn't know better, I'd say I unknowingly married a master at building emotional, impenetrable walls.
"We'll see," he replied, his voice softer now as we rounded a corner.
I decided not to say anything more, afraid that I'd reveal too much. Instead, I noticed the lights beginning to change. It's brighter now, warmer too. We must be getting close.
Windows lined the hallway overlooking the south lawn and just beyond these panes lies the orangery. Its domed glass roof, sunlit and golden, gleaming like a beacon of warmth and life. Far from what we're feeling right now.
Vesper slows, then stops.
Even from a distance, I can see the round tables filled with people, all laid out beneath it, surrounded by flowers and flashes of bright color. Arthur had mentioned earlier that the celebration would be held in my honor to thank the nobles and the powerful families who supported Vesper in his search for me. The thought itself makes me square my shoulders, as if I'm bracing for the battle ahead.
We're standing in the hallway, partially covered by the walls. No one would be able to see us from here. There's still time to retreat.
"They don't know that you've lost your memories," he said quietly, his voice edged with warning. "I've made sure of that. So don't trust any of them. We may need their resources, but they've never really been our friends."
My grip tighten slightly around his arm, my nerves begin to stir but I nod quietly, outwardly, accepting his words. I remind myself that this is my choice. I need to know my past.
"Just stay by my side," he instructed. One of the first instructions that I wholeheartedly agree with and don't mind abiding when he leads me out of the hallway and into the lawn.
"Everything will be over before you know it," he murmured as we walk through the lawn through the stone path, heading towards the orangery with two guards trailing behind us, their weapons poised.
Arthur waits for us at the entrance, bowing as we approach.
"Welcome, sir," he bid. "Everything's done according to your instructions, Your Majesty."
Vesper nods. "Thank you, Arthur. You've always done well."
Arthur smiles and signals to one of the staff. Then a single tap of a staff echoes through the hall, drawing the room into silence. Even the soft music slowly fades away, and conversations cease as they rise from their seats at the sight of us.
Arthur was the first to step forward, his voice clear and commanding.
"May I present, Their Royal Highnesses, King Vesperian Dragomir, Sovereign of the Realm and his wife, Queen Iris Ellyria Dragomir, Light of the Ellyrian Courts and Heart of the Crown."
"'Heart of the Crown'?" I echoed to Vesper when step into the place, hiding my discomfort when the crowd drops into deep bows and curtsies like waves at our passing.
His lips twist into a charming grin. "Fitting, isn't it?"
He leads me to our place at the center of the orangery, overlooking all the tables. It feels like a wedding banquet, with all the way we're seated alone at a single table, elevated and set apart. We have the perfect view of everyone, still frozen in their bows and curtsies, even the musicians.
"Please, be seated," Vesper commanded with his hand raised and his voice, smooth and commanding.
His eyes are glittering with quiet satisfaction as I settle into the seat beside him. I can tell the weight of power rests easily on his shoulders. It's as if he was born to rule.
I was about to reach for my napkin when something catches my eye. A flicker of red at the far end of the room.
A woman, with chestnut hair and piercing blue eyes sits there, dressed alluringly in a gown of deep crimson silk with her gaze, fixed on my husband. My chest tightened at the sight, as familiarity gnawed at my insides. She doesn't even smile, nor bothered to move her sight away when I openly look at her with curiosity.
The way her eyes lingered on him. I didn't like it one bit. There's this familiarity that curls uneasily within my chest. It's not the way she's looking at him, it's the way he doesn't even bother looking back. As if this had happened a thousand times before.
The musicians had begun playing again, this time a music that's soft and sweet as if they were trying to ease the tension out of us. But it's not working, despite how its soft melodies managed to drown out the low hum of conversation that resumes around us. The spell's still not broken for me.
Suddenly I need to know.
Especially with the way the woman in red is still staring at my husband, as if she's trying to catch his attention by her sight alone, remembering everything.
Right in front of his wife, the woman he claimed to love in those throes of passion just last night, that remembers nothing at all.