“None of this was your fault,” Liam said. “I hold no blame against you.”
“Be that as it may, I’ve spent our entire relationship pretending to be someone I’m not.”
“You haven’t been pretending anything that truly matters.” His hand moved to stroke my hair. “Otherwise it’d be impossible for me to feel what I do towards you.”
I whimpered. “Don’t Liam, it’ll make it so much harder to—”
“Please, Anwen, I need you to know how I feel about you.”
He began stroking the back of my hands with his thumbs. The sensations softened my fear enough for me to swallow and nod wordlessly. I prepared my heart for both the pain and joy it was about to feel, for by the earnestness filling Liam’s eyes, I knew the words he hadn’t yet said.
He took a deep, wavering breath and pressed my hands to his chest. “I love you, Anwen.”
How could the most beautiful words I’d always yearned to hear—especially from him—be so painful as to break one’s heart? Deep down I’d already known his feelings, but hearing them made them all the more real. His sentiments both created cracks and instantly healed them, before my fierce happiness eclipsed every other emotion.
With a whimper I pressed myself into his arms and melted into his embrace as he held me impossibly close. I closed my eyes and for a moment allowed his beautiful confession to wash over me.
“I’ve wanted to say those words forever,” Liam murmured against my hair.
As beautiful as his words were, my heart cracked again. “To who you thought was Princess Lavena.”
Liam yanked away to cradle my face. “No, to you. Only to you. You’re the one I’ve been with, not her.”
My tears escaped. He wiped them away, just like he’d done during our first carriage ride together, the moment he’d stolen the first piece of my heart. “How can you truly love me if you don’t even know me? You only know the part I was forced to play. Anwen doesn’t dress up in elegant gowns, she’s not allergic to strawberries, she’s terrible at embroidery, she’s incredibly shy…“
Liam scrunched his forehead. “Does any of that matter?”
I’d opened my mouth to list more differences but now snapped it shut again. “Doesn’t it?”
“Of course not, Anwen.” He cupped my chin. “I may have known you by a different name, but a name is just a name; it doesn’t change the relationship we’ve built or all that you mean to me, nor does it change the fact I know your heart. You’re incredibly sweet, kind, shy, gentle, fun, brave, thoughtful, and you help make me a better man. You can’t fake those traits, dear.”
He withdrew the music box he’d given me and handed it to me. I cradled it close, tracing the engravings of butterflies in the smooth wood until my touch trailed down to the key to wind it up. The sweet, lovely melody that Mother had always sung to me filled the air. More tears trickled down my cheeks as I looked up at him.
“I know you, Anwen. I saw more of you than you think, and I won’t rest until I’ve uncovered every last piece.” His arms enveloped me and nestled me close. “I don’t want it to end. Please don’t make me lose you.”
I shook my head. “I ache to stay, to be with you, but you know it’s impossible.”
“It’s not impossible, not with what we feel for one another,” he said. “After all, it was all real. Wasn’t it?”
Raw vulnerability filled his eyes as he awaited my confirmation, and even though confessing the depth of my feelings would only bring both of us heartache, I needed him to know. I cradled his face and stared deeply into his eyes so that he couldn’t miss my sincerity.
“All I feel for you is real, Liam. Every endearment, every touch, every kiss was from Anwen, even though she was buried beneath the mask.”
His bright smile lit up his eyes. “That’s how I know we’ll be together. Perhaps not right away, but one day we will. I’ll find a way.”
My lip trembled. I ached to believe in the future together I yearned for. My voice choked back a sob. “But I’m a peasant, you’re the crown prince. How can we possibly—”
“Somehow, sweetheart.” He cradled my face to wipe away my lingering tears with his thumbs.
“But the contract—”
Liam’s expression twisted. “I admit that’s quite the problem.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “But there has to be a way. Every contract has a loophole. Just because I couldn’t find one before doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist. I won’t give up. Then I can marry you, for real this time.”
My breath caught. “You want to marry me?”
“Yes, dear Anwen. I’ll marry no one but you. Please have faith. It’ll work out.” He pressed the softest, sweetest kiss on my brow and I nearly melted at the tenderness of the gesture.
I stared into his eyes before I forced my gaze away towards the gate, where Archer stood with his arms folded and a protective look as he watched us with riveted attention. “As much as I want to, I still can’t stay, not until we find a way to be together. It’s better this way.”
He sighed and caressed my cheek, the yearning in his expression softened by his usual tender understanding. “Then I shall use the time we’re apart to my advantage. It’ll be the perfect opportunity for me to not only find a way out of the contract, but to come to know the real you even more.”
I furrowed my brow. “How?”
He grinned mischievously. “It’s a surprise.”
“Excellent. I like surprises.” I pressed my hand to his heart. “Keep this safe for me, won’t you?”
“Always.” He pulled me into a hug, holding me so tightly he lifted me off the ground. In his embrace, all the despair, heartache, and uncertainty I’d been experiencing didn’t fade completely, but hope filled me. I wasn’t sure how, but perhaps we could still be together. Even if at the moment it felt impossible, I needed to believe it.
Chapter 24
I’d been home just over a week, surrounded once more by my gabbling geese, when the first letter arrived. I immediately recognized the untidy handwriting. Heart pounding, I hastily broke the royal seal and unfolded it to bask in my Liam’s words:
My Dearest Anwen,
Surprise! My brilliant plan is to court you via letter. You see, I’m really quite clever, Anwen darling, and thus would make an incredible husband for someone as wonderful as yourself. I shall write you dozens of letters assuring you of how much I know and care for you while convincing you to disregard all sense and marry me, for I’m determined—I will be your husband.
It’s only been a few days and I already miss you fiercely. I knew it’d be impossible to let you go and I’m determined I won’t have to…although admittedly, the fight to break my horrible engagement has so far proven unyielding.
We’ve met with the King and Queen of Lyceria several times, whom I now view as my jailers considering they refuse to break the chains binding me to their horrible daughter. No matter our arguments about how Lavena is unfit to be Draceria’s future queen, they remain unwilling to bend; they’re even threatening war if we back out of the agreement, so desperate not to lose the treaty’s benefits or the opportunity for their daughter to become queen.
But I refuse to give up. If there’s one thing I learned in our evenings of reading together, it’s that any dragon can be conquered, especially considering I have quite the team of knights on my side. My parents and sisters all support our union, and they—along with Prince Nolan—have spent hours searching for a means for me to escape. We’ve consulted with the advisors, pored over dozens of volumes, and repeatedly attempted to negotiate.
Unfortunately, so far we’ve been unsuccessful.
Lavena watches our efforts with a dark smirk. Whatever hatred I harbored towards her before was minuscule compared to what I feel for her now, especially when I only want you. Thus I’ll never marry her. Father has only avoided Their Majesties’ insistence for a hasty wedding—and bought us much needed time—by insisting Lavena still needs to prove herself trustworthy.
I’m writing this letter in your room…or rather, what was your room. Being here makes me feel closer to you, even though it doesn’t seem like your room at all, considering Lavena chose its style rather than you. I’m trying to imagine how you’d have decorated it and am frustrated that I can’t. For as much as I feel I know you, there are still too many mysteries whose answers I long to discover. I want to spend hours talking with you until I know everything about you. Please share yourself with me, even the smallest thing, like…what’s your favorite color? Perhaps I can guess.
Your favorite color is green.
I wish you hadn’t gone home, even though I understand why you needed to. You had to return to the life you love rather than continue to play a part you never asked for. But I know you belong here with me, because your absence has left a gaping hole that can only be filled by you.
Until we’re reunited, please satisfy my curiosities: are you enjoying being home? What is it like there? Lavena keeps referring to you as “that goose girl,” and I confess I know next to nothing about what such an occupation is like. Won’t you share it with me? I truly want to know every single detail, and even then it will never be enough.
Please write back. I ache to hear from you. In the meantime, I will continue to research as I strive to find a way to free myself so that I may be yours forever.
Affectionately Yours, Liam
Dear Anwen,
I’ve spent the week attempting to come up with a way to make time go faster while anxiously awaiting your response. I was convinced you wouldn’t write back. Even though you’ve assured me that your feelings were real in the charade you performed, the longer it took for your letter to arrive, the more I’d convinced myself you couldn’t possibly feel for me what I feel for you.
But then your letter came and it was well worth the wait. I’ve accepted a challenge to memorize it so that I can silently recite portions whenever I’m especially missing you. I’m unhappy to report there’s been no progress in breaking my engagement contract. This dragon is proving quite the formidable beast, but we won’t let him beat us, will we, my dear?
Anwen. I had to pause in this correspondence to write your name after you reminded me in your recent letter how much your name means to you. I’ll write it a few more times—Anwen, Anwen, Anwen—and strive to better weave it throughout my letter. Another challenge accepted. I like challenges.
I miss you more than ever, Anwen. Our separation is made more torturous due to Lavena’s thoroughly unwanted presence. You two are not identical by any means—for now that I have your face memorized, the differences between you two are obvious and jarring—but you’re uncannily similar enough that each glimpse of her makes me think of you.
You both have the same dark brown hair, deep chocolate brown eyes, heart-shaped faces, upturned noses…but as to your differences: your features are softer; your eye color is a deeper brown, not to mention light fills your eyes while only scorn fills hers; you dimple when you smile; you have a darling array of freckles along your nose; your smile is brighter; and you yourself are the embodiment of sweetness and compassion, a woman who makes me better in every way.
I hate seeing Lavena and resent the fact I can’t escape her while she and her family are visiting. It’s as if she’s donned the correct costume but plays her part all wrong. She’s such a (Forgive me for that blot on the parchment; I couldn’t resist writing a particularly nasty word before feeling compelled to cross it out, but oh, it sure felt good to write it.) She’s driving me insane. My intolerance for her is really pushing me past my breaking point and—
Ugh, I detest that woman. Lavena just interrupted, flouncing into the library. I knew I should have taken refuge in my room…or perhaps even the dungeon would have been a better choice, considering she’s taken to knocking on my door several times a day in an attempt to gain an audience with one of her false smiles. Perhaps I can at least entertain you by telling you of my torture in story form.
The moment Lavena interrupted me, she narrowed her eyes at your letter. “Who are you writing?”
I debated taking the silent treatment approach before realizing she’d likely pester me until I satisfied her annoying curiosity. “It shouldn’t matter to you.”
“Of course it does, Liam. I’m to be your wife, after all.”
“More like my torturer,” I muttered.
She pattered closer—undoubtedly to try and steal a peek at the letter. I hastily flipped it over. She pouted. “Considering we’re to be married, it’s wrong for us to keep secrets from one another.”
I rolled my eyes. Her words were undoubtedly part of her speech she’d likely rehearsed several times. “Your act can’t fool me.”
Her feigned politeness faltered and she scowled. “Why shouldn’t it? You’re gullible enough, for my handmaiden’s did.”
I stiffened. Just hearing any reference to you caused my heart to pound furiously. “Anwen?” I stuttered.
She smirked. “Yes, Anwen, the little pretender who toyed with your emotions.”
“You have no idea what occurred between us,” I snapped. “You weren’t there.” Thank heavens for that.
“I didn’t need to be. I’ve seen you mooning over her ever since she left. It’s sickening how you’re pining for a nobody.” Before I could stop her, Lavena snatched my letter. She wrinkled her nose. “You’re even writing to her. How pathetic.”
“Give that back.” I snatched it from her hands and smoothed out the edges. “She’s not a nobody.”
Lavena sneered. “She certainly is. She’s nothing more than a common goose girl, whereas I’m a princess. Why would you want her when you can have me?”
“She may be a goose girl, but she’s more of a princess than you’ll ever be,” I said. “Not to mention she makes me a better man, whereas you tear me down every chance you get.”
Her smirk vanished and her eyes widened in shock before they narrowed dangerously. “So it’s true then? I thought you merely missed her, but what you feel is something deeper. How disgusting.”
Too late I realized she’d been baiting me in order to discern how I felt about you. I tightened my jaw and didn’t answer. She laughed coldly, no humor in her twisted expression.
“I don’t believe it. You’ve deluded yourself into thinking you care for her, a mere peasant. You really are a fool. You need to let her go. She’ll give you nothing, especially compared to what I could give you.”
“The only thing you give me is a headache.” I rubbed my temples. “Go away.”
But she wasn’t finished. “Why? Does it hurt you to be around me?” She sounded delighted by this fact.
I gripped the edge of the desk until my knuckles turned white. “It only hurts because you’re a weak imitation of her.”
She rolled her eyes. “We don’t look that much alike.”
Lavena was right about that. You two are nothing alike, yet far too similar in appearance for me to be at peace around her when it’s you I long for.
“Go away,” I repeated firmly, and this time (although most definitely not soon enough) she obeyed.
But she couldn’t resist one last parting retort. “I know what I want, and you’re the only one who can give it to me. I’ll win you over yet with my charm.”
“Don’t count on it,” I grumbled before the door shut blessedly behind her, leaving me free to finally finish my letter. But now that she’s gone, the words won’t come, not when my doubts and fears prevent me from writing anything cheerful.
I want to keep hoping, but that conversation with Lavena w
as so draining, not to mention she made me miss you more than ever.
Your Liam
Anwen Darling,
I’m begging you, put me out of my misery. Lavena is going to be the death of me. I’ve actually entertained myself by coming up with the most elaborate murder plots during particularly slow parts of this week’s meetings. It’d certainly take care of the problem of my betrothal, wouldn’t it? While I’d never actually murder anyone, she sure is tempting me…
She’s actually making good on her parting words from our last confrontation that she’ll “win me over,” and I now realize with horror what they actually mean—attempting to woo me. I suspect this is her backup plan should we miraculously find a way to break the contract. But there’s no doubt she wants nothing more than my throne, and in her attempts to gain it she flirts with reckless abandon. Several times a day I wonder if her advances will actually make me sick.
I’ll share with you snippets: fluttery eyes, coy smiles, swirling her hair around her finger as if she thinks the gesture is appealing (it’s most definitely not, at least when she does it), false compliments, accidental brushes against my arm…the list is endless, as is the torment.
At first my approach was to drive her as insane as she’s driving me, which was the game we used play. I stack my plates at every meal in elaborate towers that she glares at with a look like she wants to knock them over; I ramble about nonsense and watch her fight not to yawn; and I goad her at every opportunity. Nothing works; instead, she redoubles her efforts to “win” me. So now I do all I can to avoid her, but somehow she finds me. I feel I’m trapped in an endless game of hide-and-seek.
This afternoon, despite my taking my lunch in the most obscure corner of the palace, she managed to track me down. She immediately gave me a coy smile and brushed against my elbow, causing me to jolt away from her so forcefully I upended the small table where I’d been eating.
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