’Isaac... was married to Mikaela?’
’The sa Mikaela who’s here now?’
’And she doesn’t know he’s alive?’
Aiah stared past Arthur’s shoulder, but she wasn’t really looking at anything. The wind made a soft sound against the window. Outside, the sunlight was calm, too calm for the storm building inside her.
Arthur’s voice continued, low and unshaken.
"After hearing what happened, Isaac didn’t hesitate. He went straight to the palace. He said... he was going to take his wife back."
Aiah blinked slowly, her eyelashes barely moving. She pictured Isaac walking into that golden place, not with a weapon or loud words, but with pure belief. A boy who had already lost so much.
She listened, but her heart felt like it had stopped.
Arthur’s next words were heavier.
"But while he was away... the village burned. That night, corpses ca from the forest, rotting things, crawling with decay. All of them... weren’t even human anymore."
He paused.
"I barely made it out. Most people didn’t. Isaac’s parents were so of the first to die."
Aiah lowered her gaze. Her fingers, resting quietly in her lap, curled inward slightly.
He never said this.
She rembered Isaac’s silence. The way his eyes darkened at certain topics. How he’d never spoken of ho, never ntioned about his family. Not even once.
Now she understood why.
Her voice ca out soft. "And at the palace?"
Arthur looked away.
"He failed. Princess Mikaela rejected him. Whether she did it to protect him or out of fear... I still don’t know. But afterward, the king ordered his death."
"What kind of reason..." she asked, the words heavier than she intended, "...could justify killing a man like that?"
Arthur’s expression dulled, as if the answer had long since lost all aning to him.
"An arranged marriage," he said quietly. "Between Princess Mikaela and King Azar of Velcro. The king didn’t want any complications."
Aiah’s breath caught.
Her eyes widened, just slightly. Barely enough to notice. But inside, her thoughts were spinning.
Isaac... that’s why he knew.
She recalled their earlier conversation, the weight in his voice, the way he wouldn’t et her eyes.
"Mikaela has a marriage pact with King Azar. Her father arranged it."
Back then, she assud it was because he was from Carreon. That he’d simply heard rumors.
But now...
It all made sense.
That farm boy... That man with so many shadows trailing behind him.
He was the one that Arthur is talking about.
The one they thought had died.
Aiah exhaled slowly. Her throat felt tight.
Arthur continued.
"That’s the reason the princess ran away from the palace in the first place," his voice growing quieter, almost hesitant. "That’s how Isaac found her."
’So Mikaela hid her identity... and used Isaac to escape the marriage,’ Aiah thought. ’And in the end, he paid the price.’
Her gaze fell to the floor.
"According to what you’re saying... the person you’re searching for is already dead, correct?" Aiah asked softly, her tone careful.
Arthur nodded once. "That’s what the king’s n say."
He paused. His hands, clasped in front of him, tightened just slightly.
"But..." His brows pulled together. "Sohow, I still feel it. Deep down. That he’s still alive. I can’t explain it. It’s just... there."
His voice trembled.
Aiah looked at him for a mont. She saw the ache in his eyes, the kind that didn’t fade easily. The kind that stayed even after the tears stopped falling.
"It’s natural," she replied. "When soone important disappears from your life, a part of you always hopes. You think... maybe they’ll co back. Maybe it was a mistake."
She lowered her gaze.
"But when soone dies, they don’t return. That’s the truth of this world."
Arthur didn’t respond right away. His silence stretched, as if he was still holding onto sothing. So part of the past he refused to let go of.
Aiah’s next words ca a bit slower, more deliberately.
"...I’m sorry, but I don’t know anyone nad Isaac."
She didn’t et his eyes when she said it.
Arthur nodded faintly. He didn’t push further. Perhaps he understood. Or perhaps he simply didn’t have the strength left to question it.
"I understand," he said. His voice was calm now and steady. "Thank you for your ti, Your Majesty."
He stood up and gave a respectful bow before turning to leave.
He walked out of the chamber, and the door closed softly behind him. The room stayed quiet.
Aiah sat still, her hands resting on her lap.
She had lied.
But only because... she had to.
—-----
As Arthur stepped out of the palace gates. The morning air was cool, the sun started to shine brightly, but he didn’t feel any better.
He walked quickly, his boots making soft sounds on the stone as he headed to the stables.
That’s when Sheena saw him.
"There you are!" she said, jogging toward him with a small frown. "The princess has been looking everywhere for you. We’re about to leave. Where were you?"
Arthur lowered his gaze, brushing past her with a light shrug.
"Just had to take care of sothing real quick," he said. His voice was steady, but hollow.
Sheena didn’t press further. Maybe she sensed it wasn’t sothing she should ask about.
They reached the stables a few monts later. Arthur’s eyes imdiately darted to the corner where he had tied Gaspar.
But the horse was gone.
He blinked. Once. Then stepped forward, hastily examining the empty space. The rope still hung from the post, but it was frayed, split unevenly, as though the animal had yanked itself free in a panic.
Gaspar had escaped.
Arthur stood frozen, a faint breath escaping his lips.
"...No," he whispered.
He looked around the surrounding paths, hoping to catch even a glimpse of the familiar white mane, but there was nothing. Only the still air, and the quiet rustle of straw.
They had no ti to search.
When he and Sheena rejoined the others, the guards had already finished their checks, and the rest of the entourage was lined up in formation for departure.
As Arthur explained what happened, the princess’s expression changed. She didn’t speak at first, her eyes just lowered, a shadow of quiet disappointnt passing through them.
Arthur bowed his head deeply.
"I’m sorry," he said. "I should’ve been more careful."
She didn’t respond imdiately. Then, with a small exhale, she gave a faint smile.
"It’s alright," she said gently. "It’s just a horse. I’ll ride in the carriage."
But Arthur knew it wasn’t just a horse.
Gaspar had been her last connection to Isaac. A quiet, living reminder of the boy they had both lost.
As the wheels of the carriage began to turn, Arthur looked back toward the stables once more.
He said nothing. But in his heart, he hoped, just maybe, Gaspar was running toward soone.
Soone who still rembered.
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