The Knight's Claimed Bride

Rebecca’s POV Tonight, Jelita was bursting at the seams. Music, laughter, the bright swirl of lanterns—it 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—” “Rhys Ashford,” Ma

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 zero sense—unless it was all for show. But no one else was here. Just the soft brush of tapestries and 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, trying not to look like I was internally screaming. My mind was full of Lady Kalali’s voice: He didn’t choose her. He sacrificed himself. Maybe she was right. Maybe this was some noble strategy. A cover-up. But if that was true, why hadn’t he let me hang? Why offer marriage? And more importantly… why was he still holdin

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—just sat there clutching the edge of the blanket, heart spinning in a thousand directions. A knock on the door broke my thoughts. One knock. Then two. I tensed. “Gideon?” No answer. The guards were posted just outside, weren’t they? I rose slowly, padded to the door, and pressed my ear to the thick wood. I could hear something—a shuffling sound, like heavy fabric dragging across stone. Then… a soft thud. Like a body collapsing. “Hello?” I called through the door. No response. That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t normal at all. I turned back toward the fireplace and grabbed the dull iron poker. My fingers trembled around the handle. I didn’t know how to fight. I knew how to brew fever balm and unclog tea strainers and stitch up split seams—not fend off whatever-the-hell this was. The lock clicked. My heart lurched

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