All Chapters of Crown's Wrong Kiss : Chapter 11 - Chapter 19

Isabelle arrived at the library precisely at the appointed hour, her heart performing a most undignified dance in her chest. The previous night’s meeting had left her in a state of perpetual distraction throughout the day—dropping her embroidery no less than three times during afternoon tea, much to her mother’s visible mortification, and nearly walking headlong into a footman carrying a stack of china.“I do hope His Highness isn’t burdened with the task of teaching me to walk properly,” she muttered to herself as she smoothed her gown—a modest blue affair that she’d painstakingly altered to better accommodate her generous figure. “Though perhaps gravity simply finds me more worthy of attention than most men do.”The library door was slightly ajar, a sliver of golden lamplight beckoning from within. Isabelle took a breath to compose herself and pushed it open.Prince Sebastian stood at the far window, silhouetted against the night sky. He turned at her entrance, and Isabelle felt som

Morning light filtered through the curtains of Isabelle’s chambers at Cresthaven Palace, illuminating the small desk where she sat motionless, quill suspended above parchment. A letter to Amelia lay half-written before her, the ink long dried. How did one tell a dear friend that the crown prince had requested assistance in courting her? More importantly, how did one write such a letter with a heart splintered into fragments?Isabelle set the quill down, pressing her palms against her eyes. The truth of the previous night’s revelation had settled over her like a shroud. Sebastian—her childhood savior, the man who had noticed her mind, who had spoken to her as an equal—loved Amelia. Not her. Never her.“Of course he doesn’t,” she whispered to the empty room, her voice small and hollow. “What a silly, foolish notion.”She rose and crossed to the window, looking out over the palace gardens. The rain had ceased overnight, leaving everything glistening in the morning sun. A cruel beauty, sh

“Forgive me,” she said, smoothing her skirts. “I’ve disrupted our pleasant outing with my clumsiness.”“Nonsense,” Sebastian replied. “A garden tour without at least one unexpected encounter with nature would be terribly dull.”The remainder of the afternoon passed without further incident, though Isabelle remained acutely aware of every step she took. When they eventually returned to the palace, the sun was beginning to lower in the western sky, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns.“Thank you for the delightful tour, Your Highness,” Amelia said with a perfect curtsy as they reached the entrance.“The pleasure was mine,” Sebastian replied. “Perhaps next time, you might bring your water colors? There are several views I think would benefit from your artistic interpretation.”Amelia brightened visibly. “I should like that very much.”Sebastian turned to Isabelle. “And you, Miss Ellwood? Will you join us again?”The proper answer was to decline, to remove herself from a situa

The palace library had become their sanctuary. Isabelle found herself there again, seated at the mahogany table across from Sebastian, her fingers tracing idle patterns on a sheet of parchment as she contemplated his latest request.“A locket for Amelia?” she repeated, keeping her voice steady despite the small fissure forming in her heart. “Yes, I think that would be quite perfect.”Sebastian’s face brightened with that boyish enthusiasm that made her chest ache. “You believe so? I thought perhaps it might be too forward.”“Not at all.” Isabelle reached for a fresh sheet and began to sketch. “Something delicate, I think. Gold, with perhaps a rose engraved upon it.” Her pencil moved with practiced ease, creating the outline of an oval pendant.“A rose,” Sebastian mused, his voice warm with approval. “Amelia mentioned once that roses were her favorite.”Of course , Isabelle thought bitterly. I was the one who told him that, three meetings ago. But she merely nodded, adding details to h

The palace gardens sprawled like a tapestry of verdant hues beneath the spring sun, alive with the gentle sway of flowers and the distant murmur of courtiers promenading along graveled paths. Isabelle stood with her sketchbook clutched against her chest, trying to appear composed as Sebastian paced before her, his tall frame casting a shadow that seemed to follow her wherever she moved.“A picnic,” Sebastian declared, hands clasped behind his back, “is the perfect setting for furthering my acquaintance with Miss Everhart. Intimate yet proper. I require your guidance, Miss Ellwood.”Isabelle swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. “Of course, Your Highness.”She had become an architect of her own suffering, designing each interaction between the prince and her friend with painful precision. Yet she could not deny him anything—not his requests for assistance, not the flutter of her heartbeat when his gaze met hers, not the silent agony of watching him pursu