The Heiress Queen (Season Series Prequel)

Chapter 43

"I tried to think of any way he would answer for his crimes, but every one of them led to war. I'm sorry, Isabelle," Graham said, the wind ruffling his hair as he stood beside her, watching from the castle ramparts as Leopold fled back towards his troops. The sun was just peeking over the horizon before them, painting the entire world in muted shades of pink.

"It had to be done," Isabelle said, struggling with her bandaged hands to keep the gusting wind from lifting her cloak.

"That doesn't mean it was easy," Graham said, noticing her struggle and helping her regain her fumbling grip on the cloak. "Nor does it mean that I wanted to let him leave here alive."

She met his eyes, his hands still atop hers between them.

"We did what was best for the kingdom," Isabelle said, fighting back her rising nausea at the knowledge that her father's murderer would go unpunished. But there were more important things than vengeance. Killing Leopold would mean the death of hundreds of her people and hundreds more of Graham's. Hopefully, one day, Leopold would be judged for his sins by a power far greater than Pretania's High Court.

"I would have killed him for you, if you'd asked me to," Graham said, his green eyes intense as they held hers.

"I know," she said, suddenly incredibly aware of his warm hands atop hers.

"I'm sorry that I failed you," he said.

Isabelle swallowed.

"It isn't your fault. I'm the one who should be apologizing...I didn't see all this for the trap that it really was," she said, disgusted that she'd played so easily into Leopold's plot. But Graham was shaking his head as he watched her.

"I was wrong in Highcastle. I shouldn't have let the king be the one to deliver that news to you and I shouldn't have forced you to turn to Sam to escape," he said, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles over her bandages. "But you managed to see your father before he died. You're alive. You're free. The rest is all in the past now."

Isabelle looked down to the bandages on her hands. As much as Graham spoke the truth, she would always bear the scars of what happened here, both seared into her mind and sliced into her body. Her hands and neck would serve as constant reminders of the man who had killed her father and what he had attempted to do to her.

Following her gaze, Graham freed a hand to tip her chin back up, away from her injuries.

"You fought for your freedom and won, that's what they mean," he said, his face softening. "You're a warrior now. You spared Pretania from bloodshed."

"We spared Pretania from bloodshed," Isabelle corrected, unable to tear her eyes from his. A smile tugged at the corner of Graham's lips.

"We. I like the sound of that," he said, his eyes roving her face. For the first time in what seemed like weeks, Isabelle's heartbeat accelerated not out of fear, but thanks to that tug in her stomach that wanted her to lean in and close what little space was left between them.

"You love me," Isabelle said, the words that had been swirling around the back of her mind tumbling free. Words she'd only intended to address once she'd had a proper sleep and a proper meal and a proper chance to sort out her thoughts. But the way Graham was looking at her, his green eyes alive and awake despite the purple stains of fatigue beneath them, the way his free hand had found its way back down to hers, had crumbled her resolve.

"I do," Graham said, his eyes softening.

Isabelle swallowed, the wind howling between them as she looked towards the rider disappearing towards the horizon. Her heart was thundering in her chest as the implication of Graham's words loomed over her, a stone about to fall.