Chapter fourteen.

(Like I said if edit my chapters they become longer.)

Simon's POV.

My heart thundered in my chest, a tumult of emotions coursing through me. Confusion clouded my thoughts, leaving me uncertain of how to react. He had uttered those three words—words I never imagined he would say to me. Yet, before I could process their significance, he had darted out of the room, seemingly oblivious to the profound impact he had just made. The pain of not reciprocating his confession weighed heavily upon me. Frozen in place, I stood there, haunted by the lingering echo of his voice and the bittersweet realization of what could have been.

A thunderous knock shook me from my reverie. I had been preoccupied with tidying up my room, trying to restore a semblance of order amidst the chaos that now filled my mind. The maid who burst in was a whirlwind of activity, her arms laden with decorations that seemed to multiply with every step.

"We need your help in the throne room," she announced breathlessly, her words cutting through the silence that had enveloped me.

Perplexed, I inquired, "What's the matter? What's the occasion?" It was highly unusual for a maid to seek out a servant for assistance, and I knew that whatever awaited me in the throne room must be of great importance.

"The King has instructed us to prepare for the Prince's engagement," she hurriedly explained. "He wants them to marry on his coming of age. There's no time to waste—we need all hands on deck. Please, go to the throne room and do what you can to help. The guest list may not be extensive, but we must prepare enough food to accommodate any unexpected arrivals." With that, she was gone, leaving me to process the weight of her words and the task ahead.

The scene that greeted me in the throne room was one of utter chaos. For a moment, I stood there, uncertain of where to begin. But then I straightened my spine, steeled my resolve, and reminded myself that I was capable of handling this. I began barking out orders, delegating tasks with a sense of urgency.

"Three maids will remain here to prepare the throne room. The rest of you, find new posts," I commanded, my voice cutting through the mayhem. "You two, check on the Prince and the Princess. Ensure they are ready. And remember, stay focused!" My gaze swept over the assembled servants. "The rest of you, to the kitchen. We have little time to waste. Move!"

As everyone dispersed to carry out their assigned tasks, the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on my heart. Here I was, a mere servant, overseeing the preparations for an engagement between a Prince and a Princess—the very Prince for whom I harbored the deepest of feelings. Yet, our fates were pulling us in opposite directions, the chasm between us ever widening. It was a pain that seared through me, yet I knew that the Princess deserved this more than I ever could.

Lost in my thoughts, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. "Simon," a maid spoke, her voice laced with concern. "The Prince is asking for you. He won't let anyone else assist him, and he's struggling."

I didn't want to go to him, didn't want to face the reality of our situation. But I knew that I had to put my own feelings aside, no matter how much it hurt. In the grand scheme of things, my emotions were insignificant.

Just as I headed into the Prince's chambers, he emerged from the bathroom, his eyes searching until they landed on me. "Oh, there you are," he exclaimed, a hint of relief in his voice as he made his way towards me, arms outstretched for a hug.

His appearance was disheveled, his clothes a mess and his hair unkempt. The floor was littered with his discarded clothing, a testament to his turmoil. His eyes bore the signs of exhaustion, a weariness that spoke of a soul on the brink of surrender.

I halted his advance, unable to bear the thought of his touch. If he were to embrace me, I knew that I would crumble under the weight of my emotions. I couldn't endure this any longer, and the sight of him so broken and defeated threatened to break me.

"Simon, what's wrong?" he demanded, frustration evident in his voice as I backed away from his attempted embrace. "Why can't I touch you? I need you, Simon. I don't know if I can go through with this charade without you by my side." His tone shifted, the anger melting away as he pleaded with me, his eyes brimming with sadness.

It was unbearable to see him like this, to know that I was the cause of his pain. But I knew that I had to be strong, for both our sakes. Our love was forbidden, and there was no future for us in this world. Allowing ourselves to indulge in our feelings would only bring more heartache in the long run.

My words tumbled out in a torrent of pent-up emotion. "You brought this upon yourself, Melus," I shouted, my voice filled with a mixture of anger and anguish. "If it weren't for your actions, she wouldn't be here, and I wouldn't be suffering like this." My voice dropped to a whisper as the weight of my feelings bore down on me. "I'm always the one who ends up hurting, always the one who has to be strong. I can't do this anymore, Melus. I'm so tired. So very tired."

Tears stung my eyes as I spoke, threatening to spill over and betray the depth of my despair. I couldn't continue like this, couldn't continue to be his refuge while sacrificing my own happiness. It was time to put myself first, no matter how much it hurt.

My words seemed to have a paralyzing effect on him, his body frozen in place as he regarded me with a mix of disbelief and sadness. I bit my lower lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. I knew that if I allowed them to spill over, he would rush to comfort me, and I couldn't bear the thought of his touch.

"Now, let me help you get ready," I said, my voice tight with emotion as I began to gather his scattered clothes from the floor. "The ceremony can't proceed without you."

He continued to watch me, his expression a mixture of confusion and heartbreak. "Simon," he spoke softly, his voice trembling. "I love you. I fucking love you. I don't care if people get hurt. If she hates me for this, I'll apologize, but I can't go through with it. It's you I want. Please, Simon. Please."

His words hung heavy in the air as he slowly approached me, his steps tentative as if he feared that I might flee at any moment.

His words were like daggers, piercing through the fragile armor I had erected around my heart. "Stop saying those words!" I cried out, my voice filled with a mixture of anger and desperation. "You're playing with my emotions, Melus. Please, just get ready. We don't have much time."

Despite my best efforts, I could feel my resolve faltering, my voice breaking as I spoke. It took everything within me to remain standing, to not crumble under the weight of my own despair. I knew that I couldn't give in, that I couldn't allow myself to be swayed by his declarations of love. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to resist.

His expression hardened, and he let out a derisive scoff. "Fine, have it your way," he said, his voice cold and detached. The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken emotions and lingering resentment.

I could feel his gaze on me, burning with a mixture of hurt and disappointment. But I forced myself to remain stoic, to not give in to the temptation to run into his arms and forget all the pain and uncertainty that lay ahead. I had to be strong, even if it meant breaking both our hearts in the process.

As I assisted him with his clothing, my skin tingled with every touch, a reminder of the intimacy we had shared and the feelings that still simmered beneath the surface. He watched me closely, his gaze scrutinizing my every movement, and when our eyes met, he would smile, as though trying to communicate a secret message.

It was a silent dance of emotions, each look and touch loaded with unspoken longing. And yet, we both knew that this moment was fleeting, that the reality of our situation would soon come crashing down upon us. Still, for a brief instant, we clung to the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, we could find a way to defy the odds and be together.

"My feelings for you are genuine, Simon," he whispered, pulling me closer by the waist. He gently lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I promise to make things right. I've never felt this way about anyone else. You're absolutely gorgeous." His thumb traced the contours of my lips, sending a shiver down my spine.

In that moment, I was reminded of the inexplicable connection we shared. Even when everything seemed to be falling apart, being in his arms felt like coming home. But I knew that this was a dangerous path to tread, one that could lead to even more heartache and pain. Still, I couldn't deny the pull I felt towards him, the way my body and soul seemed to crave his presence.

Despite the intensity of our kiss, I managed to gather my wits and break away from his embrace. "Melus," I murmured, my voice unintentionally laced with desire. "You have to leave now. The sun is setting, and I'm certain they'll come looking for you soon. Everyone must be finished with their preparations by now."

With a heavy heart, I took a step back, putting distance between us. "I promise, I'll make things right," he called out, his voice ringing with determination as I turned on my heels and walked away.

It took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to turn back and run into his arms, to forget about the world and the obligations that lay ahead. But I knew that this was not the time for such indulgences. Duty called, and I had to answer, no matter how much it pained me.

The palace was a vision of splendor, adorned with lavish decorations and the most exquisite of attire. Maids and servants were garbed in sleek black, adding a touch of solemnity to the proceedings. As I stood among the king, select servants, and a handful of royal court members in the throne room, I took in the sight of the Prince and Princess standing opposite each other, their hands intertwined.

Princess Camilla, though clearly hesitant and tired, wore a brave smile as she placed the golden ring upon the Prince's finger, his own hesitant smile mirroring hers. However, the tension between them was palpable, the atmosphere heavy with uncertainty and discomfort. Even as they turned to face the King, seated upon his throne, I couldn't help but wonder if either of them truly desired this union.

The King's words hung in the air, a thinly-veiled admonishment disguised as a congratulatory remark. "I'm pleased to see that you've finally become engaged to him," he said, a chuckle punctuating his statement. "Perhaps this will put an end to your philandering ways."

Despite the awkwardness of the moment, the assembled crowd broke into polite applause, filling the throne room with a chorus of clapping. Hand in hand, the newly engaged couple made their way towards the dining hall, followed by the King and the rest of the guests.

The day passed in a whirlwind of activity, each moment a blur of formalities and social obligations. And yet, as I observed the proceedings, I couldn't help but wonder how this arrangement would play out, and what fate had in store for the Prince, the Princess, and myself.

As I made my way through the quiet corridors, the soft sound of whispers caught my attention. Curiosity piqued, I paused before Prince Evan's chambers, listening intently. The door was slightly ajar, offering me a narrow glimpse of what was transpiring within. Inside, I saw the Princess and Prince Adar engaged in a hushed conversation, the Princess's countenance a portrait of turmoil.

Though I knew it was improper to eavesdrop, I couldn't help but be drawn into their exchange. Straining my ears, I tried to make out their words, hoping to gain some insight into the situation. Little did I know that what I would discover would change everything.

"I can't go on like this, Adar," she pleaded. "Can't Father understand that I already have a lover? Even if he is poor, I still want him."

Prince Adar's response only added to my confusion. "Well, it seems the Prince is determined to go through with the marriage," he mused. "I guess he didn't have a lover after all."

The Princess began pacing, clearly distraught. "I can't break it off either," she lamented. "If he does, Father won't blame me. But if I do, I'll be held accountable and barred from leaving the palace. It's so tiring."

Adar offered a suggestion, his words drifting to me as I struggled to process what I was hearing. "Maybe you should talk to him," he advised. "Perhaps you can work something out. He seemed tense as well, so I don't think he wants to get married either."

Overwhelmed by this revelation, I turned away from the door and retreated into the shadows of the corridor. Should I tell Melus?

The weight of this newfound knowledge bore down on me as I made my way back to my own quarters. My mind was awhirl with possibilities, the implications of what I had overheard threatening to drown out all rational thought. And yet, amidst the turmoil, a glimmer of hope shone through—the Princess didn't want to marry Melus, and he, in turn, seemed reluctant to go through with the wedding. Could this be our chance, the opportunity we had been waiting for?

But even as my heart leapt at the thought, a nagging voice in the back of my mind whispered words of caution. If I told Melus about what I had overheard, would it only complicate matters further? Or would it be the key to unlocking our future together? The uncertainty gnawed at me, keeping me awake long into the night as I wrestled with my conscience and my desires.