Leaving the garden, where the princess had left me with her words ringing in my ears like distant bells, I wandered toward the kitchen. The stone walls of the castle echoed with my footsteps. I longed to see my mother—her warm smile, her hands scented with flour and herbs. She always knew how to listen, as if the world could wait.
I wanted to tell you about the day—about my meeting with Sir Leighton, my conversation with the princess, her strange sadness. I would keep quiet about that little bag—not out of mistrust, but because promises hold stronger than chains.
The kitchen greeted me with the warmth of the fireplace and the smell of dinner. Mom stood at the table, her face tired, but her eyes beaming with kindness. A plate steamed on the table—she always knew when I'd be back.
" Eat quickly," she said without turning around. "I won't talk until you eat."
- Yes sir.
There's something primal and comforting about a mother's care. No matter the age or the battles, you become a child again before your mother's dinner. The meat melted in your mouth, the potatoes held the warmth of the earth.
After finishing, I looked at my mother. She was peeling carrots, the knife moving smoothly, like a metronome.
" Mom, I spoke to the princess today. She asked about the knights, about the people. And then she fell silent, as if she wanted to say something, but couldn't bring herself to. What do you think she was hiding?"
Mom looked up, something cunning flashed in her gaze.
" Maybe she likes you. But she's already engaged to the Prince of Krivera. That's probably what she didn't want to talk about."
The world rocked. The ground disappeared from under my feet, even though I was sitting.
— A princess couldn't fall in love with a commoner! You're lying!
" You know, I understand matters of the heart better," Mom said, looking at me with wise sadness. "Love doesn't ask for titles. It comes like a spring thunderstorm—unexpected and out of place."
Something broke inside. The tension, the unspoken words, the fear and hope that had pent up all day—all mingled into a painful lump.
" Yes!" he shouted, his voice breaking. "Because of things like that, I still don't know my father's name! Stop lying!"
He ran away. Like a little boy who can't cope with the truth of the adult world. He slammed the door so hard the glass shook.