Chapter III : Known and Unknown

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 attention. This was a different world, his world. 

The Commander’s quarters.  

I swallowed. My knees were made of paper.  

Gideon opened a heavy carved door and stepped aside for me to enter first.  

I hovered in the doorway, blinking at the space beyond. It was simple, not cold like I had expected, but clean and uncluttered. There was no gold or velvet like the rest of the palace. A massive fireplace dominated one wall, while sturdy oak bookshelves lined another. A writing desk was covered in maps, and weapons hung on the walls, because of course there were weapons. 

And in the corner stood a bed, large and imposing. 

I flinched stepping inside, my body braced as if the floor might vanish under my feet. The door closed with a quiet click behind us, and Gideon finally let go of my hand. The loss of his warmth hit harder than I expected, leaving me swaying for a breath before I caught myself. 

“You can sit,” Gideon said quietly. His voice was calm, the familiar coldness still there, but tempered now by something more measured. More controlled. 

I sat stiffly on the edge of a velvet-upholstered bench, fingers curled in my lap. I didn’t know where to look. Definitely not at the bed. Gods, don’t look at the bed.  

Gideon went to the fireplace and fed the fire another log, sparks flaring briefly as light and shadow traced the planes of his face. He slipped off his gloves with practiced calm and laid them on the mantle, the gesture precise but strangely reverent. 

I cleared my throat, hating how small my voice sounded. “Commander… I mean, do you want me to sleep somewhere else? The floor’s fine. I’m used to it.” 

“No,” Gideon replied, calm and certain, as if the idea had never crossed his mind. 

I froze.  

Gideon still did not look at me as he crossed the room and poured water into a basin. He dipped a cloth into it, wrung it out with practiced precision, then turned back toward me. Before I could react, he lowered himself to one knee in front of me. 

My breath caught. “What are you doing?” 

“There’s potion residue on your fingers,” he said quietly. “If anyone notices it tomorrow, they’ll start asking questions. Questions we don’t need added to the ones already floating around.” 

Then he gently took one of mine in his and began wiping away the faint shimmer of spilled love potion from my skin. Like I hadn’t accidentally committed treason tonight. Like I was someone who deserved gentleness.  

His touch was warm and focused, the cloth moving over my skin in slow, careful circles. I stayed still, resisting the urge to pull away. 

“You… don’t have to do that,” I whispered. 

“I know.”  

Then why are you?  

But I didn’t ask. I just watched him, the way his brows drew together in concentration as he worked. This man had terrified half the kingdom into silence, and yet he was kneeling in front of me now, cleaning my hands with a gentleness that made me feel breakable. 

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," I said, the words finally breaking out of me like a confession. 

Gideon didn't look up from my hand, his focus entirely on the cloth and the skin he was cleaning. "I know." 

I blinked, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Why didn't you just let them punish me? It would have been cleaner." 

He paused then, his fingers tightening just a fraction around mine. "Would you rather I let you hang, Rebecca? Is that the alternative you’re rooting for?" 

"No, but..." I trailed off, searching for logic where there seemed to be none. "You don't even know me. We’ve never spoken before tonight.” 

Gideon finally looked up. His ice-gray gaze pinned me in place, peeling away the palace composure I was clinging to. He lifted his hand slowly, brushing a loose strand of my dark red hair behind my ear. His fingers barely touched my cheek, yet the heat lingered like a brand. 

"I have known you much longer than you realize," he said, his voice dropping to a low, rough vibrato. "If you think I’m doing this out of some sudden sense of pity, you haven’t been paying attention." 

I stared at him, my mind spinning off its axis. Before I could demand to know exactly what that meant, he stood up and returned the cloth to the basin, effectively ending the conversation with the same clinical precision he used to lead an army. 

“Do you want food?” Gideon asked. “I noticed you haven’t eaten.” 

“I’m not really hungry,” I said quietly. 

Gideon didn’t push. Just nodded, as if he’d expected that. Then crossed the room, pulled a blanket from the foot of the bed, and brought it back to wrap gently around my shoulders.  

I swallowed hard. “Thank you… Commander.”  

“Gideon,” he corrected instantly. 

I blinked, startled by the bluntness of it. “What?” 

“You can call me Gideon,” he repeated. His voice was steady, leaving no room for argument. “The title is for the men I lead and the Queen I serve. You are neither.” 

“It feels wrong,” I whispered. “Like I am breaking a rule I didn't know existed.” 

Gideon stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. “Then break it. I am giving you permission.” 

I swallowed hard, testing the weight of it. “Gideon.” 

The corner of his mouth didn't move, but the ice in his eyes seemed to soften. “That was not so difficult.” 

It was. And it scared me how much it didn’t feel wrong. 

Another silence. 

Gideon glanced at the window, the moonlight casting silver across the stone floor. Then he crossed the room, his movements unhurried, and began pulling a curtain across the bed. The heavy fabric whispered as it moved along the rod. 

I watched, confused, as he gathered a pillow and blanket from a chest near the wall. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Making a place to sleep." He said it simply, like it was obvious. 

I blinked. "You're not sleeping in the bed?" 

Gideon paused, his hands still on the blanket. He turned to look at me, and something flickered in his expression. Something almost like amusement, though his face remained carefully neutral. 

"Did you want me to sleep in the bed?" he asked quietly. 

My face went hot. "No. I just meant... it's your room. Your bed. I can take the floor." 

"No." 

"But..." 

"Rebecca." He said my name like it was a full sentence. Final. Then he turned back to his task, arranging the makeshift pallet near the fireplace with the same precision he probably used to organize battle formations. 

I sat there, fingers twisted in the blanket he'd given me earlier, watching him work. The firelight caught on his dark hair, softened the hard lines of his jaw just slightly. 

"This doesn't make sense," I whispered. 

Gideon didn't look up. "What doesn't?" 

"You. This. Any of it." My voice cracked a little. "You could have let them punish me. You could have walked away. But instead you're..." I gestured helplessly at the floor, at him, at everything. "Sleeping on stone. For me." 

He was quiet for a long moment, smoothing out the blanket with careful hands. 

Then he rose, brushed his palms together, and said, “You should sleep. Tomorrow will be difficult." 

I nodded mutely, still staring at the curtain that divided the room. At the careful distance he'd built between us. 

The fire crackled softly. Shadows danced across the walls. 

I curled into the blanket, pulling it up to my chin, and closed my eyes. 

Somewhere behind the curtain, the Knight Commander of Jelita, cold and terrifying and unreadable, was sleeping on stone. 

For me. 

I didn't understand any of it. 

But for the first time that night, I slept. 

~~~ 

I woke to the sound of firewood shifting and the distant clang of armor outside the door.  

For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. Then memory crept in, slow and unwelcome. 

Right.  

The palace. 

The marriage announcement. 

The love potion.  

I sat up slowly, the blanket slipping from my shoulders. My body felt stiff, my mind worse, like I’d been dragging fear behind me in my sleep. 

When I peeked around the curtain, I froze.  

Gideon was already dressed in his dark uniform, polished and pristine, sword belted at his hip. He stood near the fire, flipping through a worn leather notebook and sipping something from a tin cup.  

He didn’t look at me.  

But he spoke. Of course he did.  

“There’s tea on the table. I had them send breakfast. You slept through three knocks.”  

Embarrassment settled in my chest before I could stop it. “Oh. Sorry…” 

“You needed rest.”  

There was no judgment in his tone. Just facts. He turned a page.  

I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself and crept out. The table was now set with warm bread, fruit, and a little silver pot of tea, still steaming. 

I looked at it like it might be a trap.  

“Thank you,” I said, my voice barely a murmur. I poured the tea with slightly shaking hands. “So… do I stay in here forever now? Am I allowed outside, or do I need, I don’t know, an armed escort every time I breathe?” 

Gideon’s lips twitched. Almost like a smile. Almost.  

“You can go where you like. With limits. Some places are guarded. The Queen still has her eyes on you.”  

“Of course she does.” I muttered into my teacup. “Wouldn’t want the potion rat to seduce anyone else.”  

Gideon’s jaw flexed, just once. 

“Don’t,” he said quietly. 

I glanced up. “Don’t what?” 

“Call yourself that.” 

I looked down at the tea again, throat tight. After a moment I said, very softly, “Thank you. For… all of this.” 

He didn’t answer right away. Just watched me for a beat too long. 

Then, almost offhand: “Lady Kalali won’t speak to you again.” 

I lifted my eyes slowly. “You talked to her?” 

“I made it clear she’s to stay away.” 

His words were calm and flat, as casual as a report on the weather, yet the careful evenness in his tone made the skin along my arms prickle. 

I swallowed. “What did you say to her?” 

He considered me for a second longer than necessary. 

“Enough,” he said simply. 

I had no idea what that meant. But I imagined it involved Gideon looming like a silent avalanche while Lady Kalali shrieked and broke a fingernail on her own wineglass.  

I bit back a laugh.  

Then panic followed right on the heels of it. What was I doing laughing when I was still sitting in the Commander’s quarters, in yesterday’s wrinkled dress? The palace had not stopped being dangerous just because I had slept. Nothing about my situation had changed. We were going to be married. To each other. 

Gods. 

I tugged at my tangled hair, trying to smooth it. “I, um. Should probably go back to my shop. At some point. If it’s still standing.”  

Gideon was suddenly in front of me. The fact that I hadn’t even heard him move was deeply unsettling. 

“No one has touched it,” he said. “I’ve already stationed someone to keep it guarded. You’ll have time to retrieve anything you need.”  

“...Oh.”  

Gideon hesitated. “But I’d prefer you not to leave the palace.” 

“Because you think I’ll run?” I said, a little too sharply.  

Gideon looked me straight in the eye. “No. Because the nobles will be looking for blood. If not yours, Muppet’s.” 

I blinked. “…Muppet?”  

Gideon nodded, calm as ever. “Your friend. The loud one. Talks like she’s preparing for war.”  

It took everything in me not to choke on my tea. “Do you mean Maddie?”  

A beat.  

“That’s what I said.”  

I stared at him.  

Gideon stared back, utterly unmoved.  

Gods help me.  

If Maddie ever found out he’d been calling her Muppet this whole time, I wasn’t entirely sure whether she’d be horrified, flattered, or deeply, deeply insulted. Probably all three.  

I could already picture her storming into the palace, wagging a wooden spoon like a sword, demanding the Commander look her in the eye and say her name right, godsdammit.  

“She’s safe,” Gideon added. “Back at your shop. Under watch, but unharmed.”  

I exhaled shakily. “Thank you.”  

Gideon inclined his head like it wasn’t anything at all.  

And that was when the knock came, three firm raps against the door. Gideon moved instantly, crossing the room with quiet, fluid efficiency. He opened the door just a fraction and spoke in a low voice to the guard outside, too softly for me to hear. A moment later, he stepped back into the room. 

“We have a visitor.” 

I barely had time to straighten before the door opened wider, and Rhys walked in. 

I stopped breathing.