The World Cannot Know

Chapter 72

King Sebastian

I couldn't feel the floor beneath me. Not really. Everything—the throne, the banners, the roaring celebration still echoing through the halls—felt suddenly far away, distant and meaningless compared to the ache twisting in my chest.

Matthew's hands were still gripping my coat, grounding me. His forehead rested against mine, and for a moment, I let my eyes close. Just to breathe. Just to feel him there. He was right—we would regret it if we rushed this, if our love became a reaction instead of a promise. But damn it, I wanted something solid. I wanted him. After everything—after the blood and loss and betrayals—I just wanted us to be the thing no one could touch.

I opened my eyes. The Queen was still watching, her expression unreadable now. Maybe stunned. Maybe something colder. But I didn't care.

"I wasn't bluffing," I said softly, just to Matthew. "I would marry you this second, right here in this cursed room, if you said yes."

"I know," he murmured. "That's what scares me."

I pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"

"No," he said instantly. "I'm afraid of what the world will do to you. To us."

I looked past him again—to the Queen, who hadn't spoken since her protest. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, knuckles white.

"You tried to have him taken from me," I said to her, my voice lower now, more lethal. "You tried to carve him out of my life like it would protect the kingdom. Like it would protect me. But I don't need protection. I need the truth. And he is my truth."

She flinched at that. A slight tremor, no more than a blink—but I saw it.

"You're a king now," she said at last. "The crown comes first."

"No," I said, stepping fully between her and Matthew. "The people come first. And I will not serve them by living a lie."

The room was silent. Thick with the tension of power shifting hands—finally, completely.

I stared my mother down. "From this moment forward, you are no longer to involve yourself in matters of the crown. No council seats. No backdoor meetings. No whispered instructions to my advisors."

Her jaw clenched. "You would exile your own mother from the council?"

"I would exile anyone who tried to divide me from the people I love," I said. "You may remain in the castle as Queen Mother, but your political influence ends here. Or you leave."

The silence stretched. Her lip trembled, only slightly. Then she drew herself up, shoulders squared like the monarch she once was. "Very well," she said. "If that's what you truly want."

"It is," I said firmly, my voice like steel. "That part of your reign is over."

She swept past us, eyes dark with frustration, and disappeared into the corridor. The air felt lighter after she left.

Matthew looked at me with a flicker of concern. "You didn't have to—"

"I did," I said gently, my voice threading with quiet force. "You've bent enough for this family. I won't let you bend again. Not for them. Not for anyone."

Matthew reached for my hand and held it tightly, his grip trembling slightly, as if he still hadn't fully come down from the edge he'd been pushed to. I turned to face him fully, the hum of distant music a muffled backdrop behind the heavy door. His eyes searched mine, unsure, hurting, but still here. Still with me.

I lifted his hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "If anything like this happens again," I said, "you tell me. You don't carry it alone."

Matthew's voice was low. "I didn't want to be the reason something went wrong for you. Not on your day."

I stepped closer, my forehead brushing against his. "You are not the problem. You never were. The only thing that would go wrong is waking up one day and finding you gone."

He exhaled shakily, leaning into my touch as I cupped the side of his face. "They don't want me here."

"I do," I whispered, my thumb tracing the curve of his cheek. "And I'm the king now. What I want matters."

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, lashes damp. I kissed him then—soft at first, grounding us both. Then deeper, with the kind of desperate gratitude that came from standing through the storm and still finding each other on the other side.

When we parted, he didn't speak. Just pressed his forehead to mine, hands clutching at the front of my coat like he couldn't bear the thought of letting go.

"I don't want to vanish again," he murmured. "I was halfway gone already."

"Then stay with me," I said. "All of you. No more shrinking. No more silence. We do this together."

We didn't say much as we made our way back to the ballroom—the sound of music swelling louder, laughter and clinking glasses drifting through the corridors like nothing had happened. But everything had changed.

When the doors opened, the crowd turned. My return drew cheers, another wave of celebration. Nobles, commoners, foreign dignitaries—they were all still here, all watching.

I stepped forward, Matthew by my side. I could feel his hesitation, the way his steps faltered slightly. But I wouldn't let him go. Not now.

I raised a hand for silence.

The music dulled, voices trailing off until only the crackle of the chandeliers' candlelight filled the pause.

"There's one thing left I haven't done today," I said, my voice carrying easily through the room.

I glanced at Matthew, then faced the crowd again.

"You've heard many things about me. About my rule, my past, my heart. Some of those things are true. Others are convenient lies. But I will not begin this reign by letting others speak louder than the truth."

I reached out, gently taking Matthew's hand in mine—lacing our fingers together, openly, unashamed.

"This man—Lord Matthew of Canterbury—is not just a companion or a guest of the crown. He is my partner. He stood by me when others fled. He fought beside me, believed in me, saved me. And I love him."

A murmur swept the crowd. Some shocked, some murmuring in agreement. A few faces darkened. But many... many smiled.

"He will walk with me in this life, not behind. Not hidden. With me."

I looked out over the room and finished, "Let any man who claims to love Kinsley know: our kingdom is stronger when its leaders do not pretend."

Then I raised my glass.

"To truth. To love. And to a new beginning."

Cheers erupted, louder than before—Marcus and Clive's voice booming somewhere near the front, Arney whooping from a corner, Elizabeth wiping away tears that she insisted were from laughter. Even Hector gave a subtle nod of approval from near the dais.

And beside me, Matthew smiled—a real one this time. No walls. No weight.

I turned to him, leaned in, and whispered against his cheek, "They know now."

"I know," he said, eyes glassy but sure. "And I'm still here."

And for the first time since the crown touched my head, I finally felt like a king.