The World Cannot Know

Chapter 73 - special chapter

Matthew Wild - 6 years later

The castle grounds bloomed with wildflowers, ivy curling up the stone walls like nature itself had decided to celebrate. Laughter echoed through the gardens, the sharp trill of a child's giggle weaving its way through the wind and sunlight. It was warm for spring—golden and soft, the kind of day that makes you forget there was ever such a thing as war or duty.

"Uncle Arney!" Louie shouted as he launched himself across the lawn, arms flailing, hair windblown from the chase.

Arney turned just in time to catch the six-year-old, grunting dramatically as if the child had tackled him like a battering ram. "By the gods, you'll break my ribs one day!" he wheezed, falling back into the grass with Louie perched triumphantly on his chest.

"You said you were a knight," Louie replied, squinting down at him. "Knights aren't supposed to break so easy."

"That was before I became a glorified royal babysitter," Arney groaned, but his grin gave him away.

Katharina stood a little distance off beneath a blooming tree, watching the scene with arms folded. The lines around her eyes had softened. She still held herself like a queen-in-waiting—poised, graceful, guarded—but when Louie turned and called out "Mama! Look!" something warm broke through her composure.

"He's grown even more since last month," I said, stepping up beside her.

"And louder," she replied dryly, but her eyes stayed fixed on him. "I swear, he's more trouble with each inch he gains."

"That's what they're meant to do," I smiled. "Grow, stretch, take up space."

She glanced sideways at me, then looked back at Louie. "He asks about you all the time, you know. About you and—" she hesitated, "—Sebastian."

I let the breeze carry the pause before replying, "He's family. I never thought I'd say that about anyone in this world but... he's mine, too."

She nodded once. "I know. And he deserves all of it. Love that doesn't apologize."

A voice called from across the garden—Clive, pointing a half-eaten apple like a sword. "Oi! Marcus, if you're going to keep looking at Hector like that, at least buy the man a drink first!"

Marcus barked out a laugh, arms slung around a scowling General Hector who looked like he'd rather face a thousand Valorians than endure another round of Clive's teasing. Alice and Elizabeth sat nearby on a picnic blanket, hands intertwined as they laughed at the absurdity. Elizabeth had a flower crown on, courtesy of Louie, and Alice—who had once been the kingdom's most scandalous women—had a daisy tucked behind her ear.

It was chaotic, beautiful peace.

I didn't notice Sebastian until I felt his arms slide around my waist from behind. He rested his chin on my shoulder, voice low and content. "You disappeared on me."

"I was watching our family fall apart in the grass," I said, tilting my head back slightly. "And I couldn't be happier."

He chuckled, the warmth of his breath brushing my ear. "He's exhausting."

"He's six," I laughed. "You're not that old."

"Tell that to my knees," he said, then turned me in his arms until I was facing him.

He looked older in the best way—mature, certain, regal without trying. His crown wasn't on, but it never really had to be. He wore love better than any gold.

"Do you think," he murmured, "we ever get used to this? Just... quiet days. Happy ones."

"I don't think we're meant to," I said. "I think we're meant to notice every second of it."

He leaned in and kissed me, slow and familiar, like home.

Somewhere behind us, Louie shrieked with laughter as Arney hoisted him over his shoulder and spun him like a sack of grain. Marcus shouted something obscene. Alice retaliated with a flying shoe. Clive launched a plum pit at Hector, who caught it midair and threw it back with deadly precision. Elizabeth buried her face in her hands and laughed until she cried.

And the king, my king, kissed me in the middle of it all.

We had been broken, once. Lost and frayed at the seams.

But now?

Now we had sewn something new. Something stitched with scars and victories, with defiance and devotion. And as the sun dipped lower over Kinsley's hills, I knew: this—this garden of laughter and strange family and long, steady love—was the truest thing we'd ever ruled.