The Knight's Claimed Bride

Rebecca’s POV Tonight, Jelita was bursting at the seams. Music, laughter, and the bright swirl of lanterns all crashed together in a wild celebration as the city welcomed home its knights, returning victorious from the border after three long years away. The whole kingdom felt like it was holding its breath and then exhaling in pure joy. Upstairs, in the small room above my potion shop, Maddie and I were wrestling with my hair. “Ow! Maddie!” I yelped as she yanked a comb through my dark red waves. “Are you trying to rip my scalp off?” “It’s your hair’s fault,” Maddie snapped back, tugging harder. “It knows we’re going to the palace and it’s panicking.” “Ugh. I’m panicking.” I dropped my face into my hands. “Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Maddie paused to fluff her own short brown hair in the mirror. “Because the Queen invited us, genius. It’s a private welcome party for the knights. And you know who’s going to be there…” I groaned. “Don’t you dare.”

Rebecca’s POV The silence between us was louder than any crowd. I didn’t speak as Gideon led me through the palace halls, his long strides perfectly measured, mine half a stumble behind. Our hands were still joined, which made no sense unless it was all for show. But no one else was here, just the echo of our boots on polished marble. Gideon didn’t say a word. Not even a glance. Just kept walking, jaw tight, posture straight as a blade. The warmth of his grip betrayed him, though. Not tight. Not punishing. Just enough pressure to remind me that I wasn’t falling. Even though I very much felt like I was. I kept my eyes down, forcing myself to breathe evenly. None of this made sense. Why had he offered marriage? And more importantly… why was he still holding my hand? We turned a corner and the air shifted. It was warmer, quieter, less formal than the Queen’s marble halls. These corridors were lined with dark wood and steel sconces, and personal guards in black stood at at

Rebecca's POV I stayed on the bed long after Gideon left. The fire had burned low. The velvet curtains fluttered faintly as if the walls were breathing. I didn't move. I just sat there, gripping the edge of the blanket, my mind racing with everything that had happened. A knock at the door broke the silence. One knock. Then another. I froze. "Gideon?" I asked. There was no answer. I knew the guards were supposed to be right outside. I stood up slowly and walked to the door on quiet feet. I pressed my ear against the wood and listened. At first, there was nothing. Then, I heard a strange dragging sound, like heavy clothes rubbing against the floor. It was followed by a dull thud, the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. "Hello?" I called out. Still nothing. A cold feeling settled in my stomach. Something was wrong. I turned back toward the fireplace and grabbed the iron poker. My fingers were already shaking. I didn't know how to fight. I knew how to brew fever bal

Rebecca’s POV Rhys sat cross-legged on the floor, crushing herbs in his palm like it was a ritual he’d done a thousand times. Maybe he had. War made medics out of everyone. “Still know what you’re doing?” Rhys asked, passing me a small clay bowl filled with what smelled like burnt thyme and nettle. “Or should I call for a palace healer?” I smirked faintly, flexing my aching wrist. “Unless they know how to reverse a panic-induced swelling spell and realign a fractured joint with pine sap and whisperleaf, I think I’ve got it.” Rhys handed me a strip of linen and watched as I spread the salve carefully, wincing only a little. His eyes tracked my movements, like he couldn’t quite believe I was real. Or here. Or still able to laugh. Everything ached, but I was alive. Somehow. “I still can’t believe it,” I murmured, not really meaning to speak. “How fast everything changed.” Rhys’s voice was gentle. “Yesterday, you were just the girl who ran a potion stall and got the wrong deliveries

Rebecca’s POV We walked in silence through the halls, his long strides just a bit slower—matching mine without making it obvious. And me? I was mostly trying not to collapse in on myself like a dying star. The air between us still burned, and I hadn’t looked at him once since the kiss. But I was a disaster. Because two corridors later, before I could stop myself, I blurted, “So that was my first kiss, by the way.” Gideon stopped. He turned toward me, slow and deliberate. I could’ve smacked myself. “I didn’t—ugh. Just forget I said that.” His expression shifted. Softened. “Rebecca…” “Seriously. I’m aware it was tragic, please don’t—” “It wasn’t tragic,” Gideon said quietly. “It was beautiful.” I blinked. Gideon stepped closer—but not too close. His voice dropped low, just for me. “I’m honored.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “I didn’t say it to make it a thing.” “I know,” Gideon said. “But it already is. For me.” Heat crawled down my spine. And because apparently I hadn’t e