Chapter 20
The Dream and the Beast
Roland dreamed
In the dream, the sun bathed the palace gardens in golden warmth during the Spring Hunt
He hadn 7 walked off with the other noble heirs. Instead, he had stood beneath the blossom-laden trees, watching a girl in white carefully place a bird’s nest back among the branches
She leapt down lightly, brushing the dust from her gown As she looked up, their eyes met
He stepped forward, his voice low and warm
“Good day. I’m Roland Might I have the honor of knowing your name?”
She tilted her chin, proud and unyielding. “Oh? And why should I give it?”
“Because you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen” His smile was soft, almost boyish
She buffed, but the tips of her ears flushed crimson. “Well then, since you’re so taken with me…!
suppose I shall graciously allow you that honor.”
He barely kept from laughing. Gods, she was enchanting
From there, everything unfolded as if written by the stars.
He pursued her with quiet devotion, and she aloof but secretly delighted- allowed him closer
He lavished her with tenderness, and she melted into his arms like it was where she had always
belonged
They wed
Surrounded by music and blessings and joy, he kissed her gently at the altar
Roland,” she whispered, face flushed scarlet, “you must cherish me always
“I swear it,” he murmured with a smile “To the end of my days
“Your Grace? Your Grace!!
The voice wrenched him from his dream
frobared seves flows open to stark, empty chamber Pain flared down his spirie and drink his heat The dreamt raden like smoke, leaving behind only the jagged edge of truth
There had been no wedding
Nu joy
Only ruin
Where is Lady Eleanor?” he rasped
“In the gardens, my lord,” the physician replied
Ignoring every protest, Roland rose from the bed, barely steady on his feet, and staggered toward the sunlight outside
There she stood amid the roses, radiant and heartbreakingly still, a letter in her hands. Her profile glowed in the morning light like the brushstroke of a master painter
He was about to call out
Then his gaze fell on the writing: [My dearest husband, I miss you terribly]
The blood in his veins turned to ice.
The delicate curve of her script, the sweet, bashful tone it was a softness he had never once
received
My husband,” she murmured aloud.
Those two words sliced through Roland like a blade
He surged forward and seized her wrist. “What are you doing?!”
Startled, Eleanor quickly regained her calm. She arched a brow. “Writing to my husband. Why?”
“Don’t call him that!” Roland’s voice cracked. His eyes were rimmed with red
1 will call him that,” she said with a cold smile “Husband. Beloved. Lord of my heart
With each word, Roland’s face turned paler, as if each name struck a fresh blow
By the end, his eyes brimmed with tears. His voice trembled.
Eleanor please don’t do this to me
She froze. Never had she seen him like this brought low, hollow-eyed, his pride shattered
beneath the weight of heartbreak
Perhaps Pre earned every cruel word,” he whispered with a broken laugh “kaline if you must, but don’t don t speak to me like that
She fell her chest tighten, the words catching in her throat. But he had already steadied himself brushing pain from his voice like dust from a cloak
“I should have been at your side last night,” he said quietly, “I failed you again.”
He took her hand
“But tonight. I’ve prepared something for you. A surprise.”
By dusk, Roland brought her to a small, elevated arena
She had expected musicians, A play, perhaps. But then a servant’s voice rang out from the stands,
loud and theatrical. “Tonight’s spectacle! Prince Roland himself faces the wild grey beast Black
Gale!”
Eleanor shot to her feet. “You’ve lost your mind!”
Roland only smiled, tender and maddening.
“For every wound you suffered because of me,” he said, “I will suffer tenfold.”
With a clang of chains, the iron gate opened. A monstrous grey wolf snarling and scarred
charged from the shadows
Unarmed, Roland stepped forward to meet it
The beast struck like lightning, fangs tearing into his forearm. Blood spattered across the sand.
“Boland!” Eleanor cried out.
He grunted, twisted, and drove his fist into the creature’s eye.
The crowd gasped
The duel was savage. The wolf lunged, tore, snarled-each blow meant to kill. Roland bled from a dozen gashes, but never once did he falter
frothed, he seized the wolf’s throat in both hands and crushed it Bone snapped. The body
rollapsed
Silence
Dripping with blood, barely standing, he limped toward Eleanor
And then, before bet the kitch
Not as a prince Not as a Victor But as a man broken open, raw and bared
“Her it tear ten pieces from me,” he said, voice hoarse, “to pay for every pain I gave you
Is it enough?
He looked up at her, eyes pleading.
“Eleanor, is it enough to earn your forgiveness?
Her fingers trembled “You’re truly mad.”
He only laughed, delirious and elated.
He took her hand, pressed it to his bloodied face.
“Lam mad,” he whispered “I’ve long since gone mad.
Eleanor, only you… only you can make me whole again.
