The Hidden Princess

Chapter Nine

"That's not who you are."

Liora stared at him, disbelief flickering across her face. He was sorry? Rowen was apologizing to her? It didn't make sense-she had been the cause of all this, hadn't she? The weight of her guilt pressed down even harder as his words sunk in. Owen was dead because of her. His father was dead because of her. Her magic had brought this all to ruin, and she had no one else to blame but herself.

Her mind swirled with the memories of that night-the moment her powers had slipped beyond her control, the way everything had spiraled out of hand so quickly. The enemy had come because of her, because she hadn't been careful enough, hadn't hidden what she was. Rowen had every right to hate her. Why was he apologizing?

Rowen shifted uneasily in front of her, as if sensing her confusion, the tension between them palpable. When she still said nothing, her lips parted in silent disbelief, he added quietly, "Liora, I might have blamed you a few days ago, but I was angry." His voice was rough, tinged with frustration and something else she couldn't quite place. Regret, maybe?

She remained silent, her gaze flicking to the floor as her mind raced. Her fingers loosened their tight grip on her robe, but her heart still felt like it was clenched in a fist. Rowen's words hung in the air, but they didn't feel like enough to ease the pain that had settled between them. He had already said so much-so many things that cut her deeper than any blade could. And those words couldn't be unsaid, couldn't be taken back. She had replayed them in her mind every night, each time convincing herself that she deserved it.

"You had every right to be angry," Liora finally whispered, her voice breaking the silence like a fragile thread. She wasn't sure where the strength came from to speak, but once she started, the words flowed out, raw and full of the guilt she had been carrying. "It was my fault, everything that happened was my fault."

Rowen opened his mouth to respond, but she didn't give him the chance. She needed to say this. She needed him to understand why she had stayed quiet for so long, why she had let the distance between them grow.

"If I hadn't been using my powers," Liora continued, her voice growing steadier, though the pain behind it was unmistakable, "I wouldn't have been seen. No one would have known, and no one would have snuck into the castle. Your father, Owen-they'd still be alive. And it's all because of me."

Her breath hitched as she said the words, as if admitting it out loud made it more real. It was her truth, the one she had been living with for days. She expected Rowen to lash out, to confirm what she already believed-that she was the reason his world had been shattered.

But Rowen didn't respond immediately. His expression, though troubled, softened, and the silence between them stretched on. She was right, of course. In some ways, her powers had been the catalyst for everything that had happened. Her magic, the secret she had tried to hide, had drawn their enemies to the castle like moths to a flame. But as much as he wanted to hold onto his anger, he couldn't ignore the other truths lurking in his mind.

"There were other ways they could have found out," Rowen finally said, his voice low. His gaze was unwavering, though a storm of emotions swirled beneath his calm surface. "Your powers might have drawn attention, but this isn't just on you, Liora. You weren't the only one responsible for what happened that night."

Liora looked up, her eyes searching his face for any trace of the anger she had expected, but all she saw was the struggle of a man torn between his pain and the truth. His words, while not absolving her completely, eased something inside her. For the first time, she saw a glimmer of understanding between them. But she still couldn't shake the feeling that she had been the cause of all this destruction.

"But if I had just-"

"If you had done what, Liora?" Rowen interrupted gently, taking a step closer to her. "Hid who you are? Pretended to be powerless? That's not who you are. And even if you had hidden, there are too many who would have wanted the crown to fall. Too many enemies, and they would have found another way."

"It doesn't matter, Rowen," Liora said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her hands clenched at the folds of her robe, fingers twisting the fabric as if she could wring out the guilt that had stained her thoughts for days. "I was forbidden to use my powers, but I did anyway, and because of it..." She trailed off, her words dissolving into the thick silence between them. The name-Owen-sat on her tongue, heavy, suffocating. She couldn't say it again. Not now, not when the weight of his death already crushed her every waking thought.

The unspoken hung in the air, a lingering cloud of grief that neither of them knew how to clear away. Rowen watched her for a moment, his brow furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. Then, without a word, he took a step forward, shrinking the space between them. It was a small gesture, but it felt monumental-like he was crossing an invisible barrier she hadn't even realized had been erected between them.

Was this his way of showing he wasn't angry anymore? Liora wondered, her breath catching in her throat. Or had he ever truly been angry at her? Maybe the anger wasn't hers to bear at all. Maybe it had always been about his father. About Owen. About the people who had killed him. The realization hit her with a quiet force, stirring the storm of emotions inside her. It wasn't just her, was it? His grief, his pain-it wasn't directed solely at her, but at the tragedy that had torn both their lives apart.

Rowen remained silent, his expression unreadable, yet something had shifted in his eyes. It was like watching a wall crumble in slow motion, brick by brick falling away, until only vulnerability remained. And then, without a word, he broke the royal guard's code-something Liora never expected him to do. He reached out, pulling her into an embrace. His arms wrapped around her with a tenderness that felt foreign but comforting, the warmth of his body radiating through her like a beacon in the dark. It was a gesture she hadn't experienced since the day he left for training, and the sudden familiarity of it broke something inside her.

Liora felt her breath hitch, her defenses crumbling. She hadn't realized how much she needed this-needed *him*. The moment his arms enveloped her, the floodgates opened, and she shattered. The tears came hard and fast, pouring from her eyes in a torrent of grief, fear, and exhaustion. She pressed her face into his chest, her sobs muffled against the fabric of his tunic, her body trembling with the weight of it all.

She was scared. Terrified, really. The kind of fear that gnaws at your bones, that makes your chest feel too tight to breathe. Someone had come here to kill her. She had seen it in their eyes, felt it in the air that night. But they hadn't succeeded. They had failed. And that terrified her even more because it meant they could come back. They would come back, and next time, they might not fail.

Her tears soaked into Rowen's shirt, but he didn't seem to mind. He didn't push her away or try to shush her. Instead, he held her tighter, his chin resting gently on top of her head, his hand rubbing small, comforting circles on her back. The repetitive motion, slow and deliberate, eased something inside her, like he was silently telling her it was okay to let go. That she wasn't alone in this.

Rowen's steady presence was an anchor in the storm, grounding her in the moment. She could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, but there was no anger there. Not anymore. Just a quiet understanding, a shared pain that neither of them could fully express with words. He didn't need to say anything-his touch spoke for him. In that embrace, he was telling her that he was here, that he wasn't going to let her drown in her fear and guilt alone.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, the world outside her door fading into the background. The walls of the castle, the weight of her responsibilities, the dangers lurking beyond-all of it seemed so far away in that brief, fragile connection. It was just the two of them, standing in the silence of the hallway, clinging to each other in the aftermath of everything they had lost.

As the sobs subsided, Liora pulled in a shaky breath, her body still trembling against his. She didn't know what to say. The words that had once felt so heavy on her tongue now seemed pointless in the face of this quiet understanding. She didn't need to apologize again, and he didn't need to forgive her. They were past that now.

Rowen's fingers brushed lightly against her back, and he finally spoke, his voice low and steady. "We'll figure this out, Liora," he murmured, his chin still resting atop her head. "You don't have to do it alone."