Chapter 44: Chapter 44

Prince Sebastian

As we made our way back through the forest, the fading light casting long shadows across the ground, I couldn't shake the gnawing sense of despair that clung to me. Every step felt heavy, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on my shoulders. My mind raced, replaying the scene over and over—the moment when Clive had recognized me, the anger in his eyes, the fleeting hope that had been ripped away when he and his men disappeared into the trees.

I was so close, closer than I had been in years. And yet, I felt farther from Matthew than ever before.

The trees around us blurred as my thoughts spiraled, consumed by the urgency to find him. The desperation clawed at my chest, making it hard to breathe. After five years of searching, of holding onto the thin thread of hope that he was still out there, the realization that he could be just out of reach was unbearable.

"We were right there, Marcus," I muttered, more to myself than to him. "He's out there, and we were right there."

Marcus glanced at me, his expression concerned. "I know," he said quietly. "But we can't lose focus now. We need to stay sharp, plan our next move."

His words made sense, but they did little to calm the storm inside me. Every moment we spent regrouping felt like another moment slipping through my fingers—another moment Matthew could be slipping farther away.

I could still feel the sting where Clive had struck me, a dull ache that seemed to echo the hollow emptiness inside. The thought that Matthew had been so close, that he might be in danger, gnawed at me with relentless persistence. I clenched my fists, the frustration and helplessness building to a fever pitch.

"I should've pressed harder," I said, my voice thick with self-reproach. "I should've—"

"You did everything you could," Marcus interrupted, his tone firm. "We're not done yet. We'll find another way."

But it didn't feel like enough. I wanted to shout, to scream, to demand that the universe give me a break for once. How many more dead ends would I have to face before I found him? How many more times would hope be dangled in front of me, only to be yanked away at the last moment?

"I can't keep doing this, Marcus," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I can't keep coming so close, just to have it ripped away."

He stopped walking, turning to face me with a steady gaze. "Sebastian, I know this is hard. But you've got to hold on. We're not giving up, not now, not ever."

"I'm trying," I said, my voice cracking. "But what if we're too late? What if—"

"We're not too late," Marcus cut in, his voice leaving no room for doubt. "You have to believe that. Matthew's out there, and we're going to find him."

I nodded, though the knot in my chest tightened. The truth was, I was terrified. Terrified that every day that passed was another day he might be suffering. Terrified that after all these years, I might be too late to save him.

As we continued walking, the forest growing darker around us, I couldn't shake the fear that had taken root inside me. I was so close to finding Matthew, and yet, I felt like I was losing him all over again. The desperation clawed at me, threatening to pull me under, but I forced myself to keep moving forward.

Because as long as there was even the slightest chance of finding him, I couldn't afford to stop. Not now. Not ever.

"If you don't head back to the castle the King will know you're not at the front lines" Marcus said

I clenched my fists, the tension winding tighter in my chest. The thought of returning to the castle, to the stifling corridors and the endless demands of court life, made my stomach churn. I had been so close—so painfully close to finding Matthew. How could I just turn my back on that and walk away?

"I can't go back there," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. The castle had always felt like a prison, but without Matthew, it was unbearable. The cold stone walls, the constant eyes watching every move I made—it was suffocating.

Marcus gave me a sympathetic look, his brow furrowed with concern. "I get that," he said gently. "But it's the King we're talking about. You know what he'll do if you're caught away from your duties."

His words hung heavy in the air, and I knew he was right. The King wouldn't tolerate disobedience, not even from his own son. My absence would raise questions, questions that could lead to far worse consequences than just being reprimanded. But the thought of leaving now, when Matthew was so close, felt like abandoning him all over again.

I turned away, trying to gather my thoughts, but all I could think about was Matthew. The years of searching, the dead ends, the fleeting hope—I couldn't let it all be for nothing. But what could I do? If I didn't go back, the King would find out, and there'd be hell to pay. If I did go back, I'd be abandoning my only chance at finding Matthew.

"I don't want to go back, Marcus," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Not without him."

Marcus stepped closer, his hand resting on my shoulder. "But you can't lose your head now. You've come too far for that. You need to play it smart," he said, his voice firm with conviction.

I knew he was right, but the thought of returning to that castle, of pretending everything was fine when I was tearing apart inside, was almost too much to bear. But what choice did I have? If I didn't go back, I'd lose everything. The only way to keep searching for Matthew was to play the game, to stay in the King's good graces. At least for now.

"Alright," I said, finally, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "I'll go back. But we don't stop looking, Marcus. Not until we find him."

"I'll head to Abbyhill" Marcus said, "I'll find him, then send word to you."

The resolve in Marcus's voice gave me a small measure of comfort, but it didn't ease the gnawing anxiety in my gut. Abbyhill was a dangerous place, a den of thieves and outcasts, but if Matthew was hiding there—or if anyone knew where he was—it was the best chance we had.

"Be careful," I said, my voice thick with concern. "Clive doesn't seem to like the Kingdom."

Marcus gave a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood. "I've survived worse. Besides, I've got a knack for blending in. They won't even know I'm there."

I nodded, though my mind was already racing through possibilities, considering every angle, every potential threat. "Send word the moment you find anything," I added, my tone more desperate than I intended. "I don't care how small the detail, I need to know."

"You'll be the first to know," Marcus promised. "But you need to focus on keeping the King off our backs. The last thing we need is him getting suspicious."

I swallowed hard, the reality of what I had to do crashing down on me. Playing the obedient son, pretending everything was normal when every fiber of my being was screaming to keep searching—it felt like torture. But Marcus was right. I couldn't let the King know what I was really up to.

"I'll do what I have to," I said, though the words felt hollow. "But don't take any unnecessary risks, Marcus. Matthew's out there somewhere, and I can't do this alone."

Marcus's expression softened, and for a moment, the weight of everything we'd been through seemed to settle between us. "We'll find him," he said quietly. "No matter what it takes."

I wished I could believe him completely, but the doubt and fear were hard to shake. Every lead we'd chased down had led to nothing, every hope had been dashed. But I couldn't afford to think like that now. Not when we were so close.

"Good luck," I said, finally. "And Marcus... thank you."

He clapped me on the shoulder, a reassuring gesture that did little to soothe the turmoil inside me. "We'll get through this, Sebastian. Just hold on a little longer."

I watched as Marcus turned and started down the path toward Abbyhill, disappearing into the shadows of the forest. Once he was out of sight, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The path back to the castle loomed before me, every step feeling like a betrayal of the one person who mattered most to me.

But if this was the price I had to pay to find Matthew, then I would endure it. No matter how much it tore me apart inside.

...

The castle loomed ahead, its stone walls as cold and unwelcoming as ever. As I rode through the gates, the weight of my deception settled heavily on my shoulders. Each step of my horse echoed through the courtyard, the sound stark against the quiet stillness of the evening. Servants scurried to take my reins, bowing deeply as I dismounted. I forced a smile, trying to mask the turmoil roiling within me.

As I entered the grand hall, the familiar scent of polished wood and burning torches filled the air. My father, King Alden, stood at the far end, his imposing figure framed by the high, arched windows that overlooked the courtyard. His face was a mask of stern authority, the same expression he wore whether in council or on the battlefield. But there was something in his eyes, a glint of curiosity perhaps, as he studied me.

"Sebastian," he greeted, his voice carrying the weight of the crown, but his arms opened wide as he stepped forward to embrace me. "Welcome home! How fare the front lines? Have the Valorians retreated?"

I stiffened in his arms, trying to buy myself a moment to craft a response. "The battles are fierce, but we hold our ground," I said, forcing a tone of confidence. "The men are strong, and our position is secure, for now."

The King nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer, though I could see the wheels turning in his mind, assessing, calculating. "Good. We must press our advantage while we can. The Valorians won't stay on the defensive for long."

Before I could respond, the door to the hall swung open, and my mother, Queen Elenor, swept in. Her regal bearing softened as she saw me, and in a rare display of emotion, her eyes welled up with tears. She hurried toward me, her hands reaching out to grasp mine.

"Sebastian, my son," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "You've returned just in time."

The sight of the Queen left a heavy feeling in my chest, dredging up all the pain and torment she had inflicted the past couple of years. Yet, there was something different in her eyes now, a softness I wasn't accustomed to seeing since Matthew left.

"You have to see him, Sebastian," she said, her tone unusually tender. "He looks just like you."

I hesitated, the weight of her words sinking in. The thought of seeing my newborn son should have filled me with joy, but all I could feel was the suffocating pressure of duty and the bitter taste of a life I had been trying to escape. Yet, I found myself nodding, following her down the corridors that led to Katharina's bedchamber.

When we entered, I saw Katharina sitting up in bed, her face pale but radiant with a soft glow of maternal pride. In her arms, she cradled a small, swaddled bundle, his tiny face peeking out from the blankets.

"There he is," Katharina said, her voice a mixture of exhaustion and joy. "Our son, Sebastian. Isn't he beautiful?"

I forced myself to smile as I looked down at my son, but the sight of Katharina sitting there, cradling him, filled me with a deep, festering revulsion. The joy in her eyes, the pride in her voice—it all felt like a cruel mockery of everything I'd been through.

How could I see anything but the nightmare she had forced upon me? My son, innocent as he was, was a product of her violence, of the nights I tried to forget but never could. Her touch still lingered on my skin, a constant reminder of how she had stolen something that was never hers to take.

My stomach churned, and I had to clench my fists to keep from recoiling. The warmth of the room felt stifling, the closeness of her presence unbearable. I wanted to look away, to escape the sight of her, but I couldn't—not without drawing suspicion. I was trapped in this moment, just as I'd been trapped in that bed, unable to fight back, unable to flee.

"He's...perfect," I repeated, the words sour in my mouth, as though by saying them I could will myself to feel anything but hatred. But it was impossible. All I saw when I looked at Katharina was the face of someone who had taken everything from me, and the presence of our child, this innocent life born out of her violation, only twisted the knife deeper.

"I knew you'd think so," Katharina murmured, smiling softly as she stroked our son's tiny cheek. But her voice, her touch, all of it only made me feel colder. I could barely stand to be in the same room as her, let alone pretend that this was the happy family moment she clearly believed it to be.

I turned away, needing a moment to collect myself before I said or did something I couldn't take back. The queen's presence, the king's expectant gaze—they were all waiting for me to embrace this new life. But all I could think about was the life that had been stolen from me, and the one I was desperately trying to find again.

...

I stepped out onto the balcony, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the castle. The cool evening air brushed against my skin, a welcome relief from the weight of the moment inside. I leaned against the railing, staring out into the distance, where the horizon blurred into darkness. The vastness of the landscape felt like a stark contrast to the confinement of my reality.

Just then, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned slightly to see Katharina's father approaching, Matthew's father too. His expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. His father, was tall and imposing, his presence commanding respect. I had always found him intimidating, but today I sensed an underlying tension in the air as he stepped closer.

"Prince Sebastian," he said, his voice steady but laced with an edge I couldn't quite place. "I trust you are settling back in? It must be quite the adjustment after your time on the front lines."

I nodded, keeping my gaze on the horizon, unwilling to meet his eyes. "It's been...difficult," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

He took a breath, clearly weighing his words. "I've heard about the sacrifices you've made for the kingdom, and for my daughter. You have our gratitude, truly."

The mention of Katharina felt like a dagger in my chest. "It's my duty," I replied curtly, trying to keep my emotions in check.

"Duty or not, it takes a brave man to face the Valorians and return home," he continued, stepping closer. "I admire your strength, especially in the face of adversity."

I finally turned to him, my patience wearing thin. "And what do you know of adversity?" I snapped, my anger flaring. "You've lived in the safety of this castle while I fought for my life and the lives of others."

Lord Canterbury's eyes narrowed slightly, but he maintained his composure. "You don't know what I've sacrificed for this kingdom, or for my family," he replied, his voice low and firm. "I've lost just as much, even if it isn't visible to you."

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, a mix of rage and frustration. "You speak of loss, yet you have your daughter and now a grandson. What more could you want?"

A flicker of something crossed his face—was it guilt?—but he quickly masked it with a stoic expression. "You're right, Sebastian. I do have my family, and I intend to protect them at all costs. That includes you. Do not forget that."

His words hung heavily between us. I turned back to the view, trying to find solace in the landscape beyond, but all I could think about was Matthew—my heartache, my longing.

"My grandson looks just like him," Lord Canterbury choked out, tears welling in his eyes. "There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think about him, about what a fine man he would be if he were here today. How proud he would be of Katharina."

The mention of Matthew sent a fresh wave of pain crashing through me. The thought of what could have been gnawed at my insides, mingling with the guilt of my own existence—the life I was living, the child I now had, all birthed from the same dark legacy that tied me to Katharina. I clenched my fists against the railing, feeling the rough wood dig into my palms.

"Do you even realise what you're saying?" I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. "You're mourning a ghost while your daughter is here, living with the consequences of what was done to me—and to him."

Lord Canterbury looked taken aback, his grief momentarily replaced by anger. "You think I don't understand pain? You think I don't suffer?" He stepped closer, his voice low and intense. "Matthew was my son too. I lost him, just like you did."

The air thickened with tension as I held his gaze, the weight of our shared grief hanging in the balance. But where he saw loss, I saw betrayal. "You may have lost a son, but I lost the chance to be free—to love him openly. I'm trapped in this life because of my title."

Lord Canterbury's expression shifted, a mix of sadness and anger flashing across his face. "This isn't about blame, Sebastian. You need to understand that the world we live in is cruel. We must protect those we have left."

"Protect them?" I shot back, incredulous. "You think I want to live this lie? To pretend to be happy in a castle while the man I love is out there, possibly in danger? You think I can just forget about Matthew?"

"Perhaps you need to think of your new responsibilities," he replied sharply, but his voice softened slightly. "Your son needs you, too."

My heart sank at the mention of the child, the innocent life I was now tied to, a living reminder of the choices I never wanted to make. "I'm not abandoning him," I said, the desperation creeping into my tone once more. "But I can't abandon Matthew either."

Lord Canterbury took a step back, his expression hardening. "You look after your son; I'll look after mine. I truly wish things were different, but they are not. You must accept that."

Before I could respond, Lady Canterbury appeared, her face aglow with pride. "Darling!" she called to her husband, a bright smile lighting her features. "She's named him! Prince Louie Matthew Kinsley!"

The moment those words left her lips, a fresh wave of pain crashed over me, heavy and suffocating. The thought of my son bearing Matthew's name, a constant reminder of the man I loved, who was now lost to me. The name echoed in my mind, intertwining my joy with an unrelenting sorrow.

I turned away from them, unable to mask the tears that began to spill down my cheeks. The weight of my heartache was unbearable as I looked out from the balcony, the sprawling kingdom beneath me a blur of colours and shadows. Silent tears streamed down my face, each one a testament to my inner turmoil—the love I held for Matthew and the life I was being forced to lead.

How could they name my son after him? I felt torn, trapped between the joy of my new responsibilities and the longing for the love that was so cruelly taken from me. My heart ached for Matthew, and as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the land, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was losing myself in this new role.

I closed my eyes, trying to picture Matthew's face, the warmth of his smile, the way he made me feel alive. And yet, here I stood, drowning in a sea of expectations, the world I had to navigate growing darker by the minute. Would I ever find my way back to him? Would I ever have the chance to tell him how much he meant to me? The questions swirled in my mind, leaving me feeling more lost than ever as I stood alone on the balcony, the weight of my choices pressing down like a heavy shroud.