enjoyebooks CHAPTER 118
CHAPTER 118
POV: Evangeline
They tell me his name before I meet him, as if a name can soften what follows.
“Prince Sebastian,” Father says while servants tighten the laces of my gown. “He arrives within the hour.”
I watch my reflection instead of him. “Is he kind?”
Father pauses, then resumes adjusting his cufflinks. “He is suitable.”
Mother’s voice is calm. “You will make an impression.”
“I always do,” I reply.
The carriage ride is short, measured, escorted by banners and guards who already treat me like a completed decision. When we stop, I step down into a courtyard polished to gleam, sunlight flashing off marble and metal. Trumpets announce his arrival a breath before he appears.
Prince Sebastian walks forward with the confidence of someone who has never been told no without consequence. He is taller than I expected, dark-haired, composed—handsome in the way statues are handsome. His eyes meet mine briefly, then flick to Father, as if confirming terms.
“My lord,” he says, bowing his head just enough to satisfy protocol.
“Your Highness,” Father replies. “This is my daughter.”
Sebastian turns back to me. “Lady Evangeline.”
“Your Highness,” I say, curtsying. The movement is practiced. Perfect.
His gaze lingers a fraction too long on my posture, my stillness. Not appreciation. Assessment.
We walk together through the hall, our steps echoing in careful synchrony. Courtiers line the walls, whispering already.
“You travel often,” I say, filling the silence.
“Yes,” Sebastian replies. “It’s expected.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
He considers the question as if it’s unfamiliar. “Enjoyment isn’t the metric.”
I nod. “Of course.”
He glances at me. “You understand duty.”
“I’m learning,” I say.
That seems to please him. “Then we will not disappoint each other.”
It is not a promise. It is a condition.
At the long table prepared for us, we sit side by side, shoulders aligned. The meal unfolds like a performance. Questions asked. Answers measured. Nothing spontaneous enough to risk truth.
“My daughter has been raised to honor tradition,” Father says. “She will be an asset.”
Sebastian inclines his head. “I value reliability.”
I smile politely. “And I value clarity.”
He studies me again. “Then let us be clear.”
The room stills.
“This union strengthens both houses,” Sebastian says. “It will be swift. Public. Without complication.”
“No complication,” Father echoes.
“And affection?” Mother asks gently, as if offering a garnish.
Sebastian meets her gaze. “Affection grows from alignment.”
I swallow. “Then alignment is our aim.”
His mouth curves—almost a smile. “Precisely.”
After dinner, we are granted a walk in the gardens, supervised at a distance polite enough to be insulting. The air smells of citrus blossoms. I focus on that instead of the weight settling in my chest.
“You are very composed,” Sebastian says.
“I’ve been praised for it,” I reply.
“Does it ever tire you?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say honestly.
He pauses, surprised, then resumes walking. “It tires me as well.”
I glance at him. “Then we share something.”
“Perhaps,” he says. “But sharing is not required.”
I stop walking. He stops too, turning to face me.
“You will marry me,” he says, not unkindly. “You will be protected. Provided for. Respected.”
“And loved?” I ask.
He doesn’t hesitate. “No.”
The honesty lands cleaner than any lie.
“I appreciate the truth,” I say.
“As do I,” he replies. “It saves time.”
I think of Alexandro. Of the way he spoke of love like a door he could force open with desire alone. I think of the girl who warned me that golden doors are still doors.
“I will not embarrass you,” I say.
“I never thought you would,” Sebastian replies. “You are… controlled.”
I smile. “So are you.”
“Control is survival,” he says.
“And duty?” I ask.
“Duty is legacy,” he answers.
We resume walking. I feel strangely calm, as if a decision has already passed through me and left nothing raw behind.
When we return, Father and Mother are waiting. Sebastian steps forward.
“I accept,” he says. “If your daughter does.”
All eyes turn to me.
I hear my brother’s voice in my memory—urgent, hopeful. I hear Father’s—unyielding. I hear Mother’s—practical.
I hear my own, steady.
“I accept,” I say.
The room exhales.
The announcement follows within days. Bells. Banners. Smiles rehearsed. My name paired with his in ink before I fully recognize it aloud.
At the announcement, Sebastian stands beside me, his hand light at my back, guiding me forward.
“We are honored,” he says to the assembled court. “This union is made with purpose.”
“With duty,” I add, because I know my role.
Later, alone in the antechamber, Mother adjusts my veil.
“You did well,” she says.
“Did I?” I ask.
She smooths the fabric. “You did what was required.”
Father enters, satisfied. “The crown approves.”
I nod. “Then it is done.”
That evening, Sebastian finds me by the window overlooking the city. Lights bloom below like constellations pinned to earth.
“You are quiet,” he says.
“I’m listening,” I reply.
“To what?”
“To the sound of things ending,” I say.
He considers me. “Endings are efficient.”
“And beginnings?” I ask.
“Transactional,” he replies.
I turn to face him fully. “I will be loyal.”
“I expect nothing less,” he says.
“I will not ask you for affection,” I continue.
“Good,” he says.
“But I will ask for respect,” I add.
He nods once. “You have it.”
We stand there, two figures framed by a future neither of us pretends is romantic.
As he leaves, I touch the ring newly placed on my finger. It is heavy. Solid. Unyielding.
In the quiet, I say the words I will need to survive what comes next.
“Duty is love.”
I repeat them until they stop sounding like a lie.