Chapter 88

Philip de Tournois’s POV

Droplets still tapped against the window panes, echoing my mounting impatience as I awaited Ewan's report. The candles had burned low, their flames reflecting off the polished surface of the imperial seal - father's last gift to me, his promise of the Ironlance Knights's eternal loyalty.

When Ewan finally arrived, his clothes were still damp from the rain, his usual composure slightly ruffled by urgency. "Your Highness," he began, barely taking time to catch his breath. "I've analyzed the situation."

I gestured for him to continue, noting the troubled look in his eyes.

"The king's strategy is... unusual," Ewan chose his words carefully. "While it's understandable he might wish to consolidate military power, using Lady Isabella's marriage as leverage seems beneath his usual methods."

"Go on." I kept my voice steady, though my fingers tightened imperceptibly on the armrest.

"I believe he's trying to ease his conscience. By offering marriage as compensation for the military seal, he can tell himself he's being fair." Ewan paused, watching my reaction. "But marriage should remain pure from such political dealings."

The truth in his words struck a chord. I stood, pacing to the window. "The imperial seal was Father's gift. He promised it would always belong to me."

"If His Majesty arranges the marriage officially..." Ewan's voice trailed off meaningfully.

"That's what troubles me most." My hand struck the desk, sending the paperweight clattering to the floor. "If word spreads of my previous proposal to Lady Isabella, the speculation would be endless."

Ewan's brow furrowed. "People would wonder why Lady Rosalind chose Lord William over waiting for your return from the southern campaign. Some might suggest she doubted your success..."

"Exactly." I retrieved the fallen paperweight, gripping it tightly. "My brother has placed me in an impossible position."

"There's also the matter of Lady Vivienne," Ewan added carefully. "She may not approve of Lady Isabella's... previous marriage."

I set the paperweight down with deliberate control. "My mother's approval, while preferred, is not essential. Without the king's direct opposition, her disapproval cannot stop this marriage."

"Then you've decided?"

"Yes." The word came out firm, final. "Tomorrow, I'll visit the Montfort estate. This needs to end - one way or another."

"And the military seal?"

I touched the imperial seal on my desk, feeling its familiar weight. "Some prices are worth paying, Ewan. I won't let Isabella's reputation suffer for political games."

Isabella’s POV

I had just returned from my morning routine, savoring the lingering taste of honey-sweetened porridge, when Thomas hurried to me with unexpected news.

"My lady, Prince Philip awaits you in the great hall."

I paused, surprised. The prince wasn't expected until afternoon, and I had specifically requested the kitchen prepare his favorite chilled soup. "Now? But it's barely past breakfast."

"He arrived moments ago, my lady. And..." Thomas hesitated, his weathered face creasing with concern, "he's dressed in full court regalia."

Something tightened in my chest. Prince Philip, the kingdom's most celebrated military commander, never wore formal attire unless absolutely necessary. He preferred practical leather and steel to silk and velvet.

I glanced down at my own attire - a smoke-gray silk gown with white pleated collar and gold embroidery, accessorized with a sapphire hairpin. Suitable for a morning at home, but perhaps too casual for whatever occasion had brought him here in full court dress.

The great hall felt cavernous as I entered, my footsteps echoing against stone walls. Prince Philip stood by the massive fireplace, cuts of deep blue velvet and gold brocade making him look every inch the royal he was. The morning light caught the jewels in his coronet, sending prisms dancing across his severe expression.

I dropped into a proper curtsy. "Your Highness."

"Lady Isabella." His voice carried the familiar commanding tone of the battlefield, yet something else lingered beneath it. "Please, rise. And..." he glanced meaningfully at Thomas and the handful of servants, "we require privacy."

Thomas hesitated only briefly. Given our shared military ranks, he likely assumed this was about the Holy Land campaign. With efficient authority, he ushered the servants out and closed the heavy oak doors behind them.

"I trust you've been well?" Prince Philip asked, his formal tone at odds with our usual easy military rapport.

"Yes, Your Highness. Though I admit to some surprise at your early arrival. Had I known-"

He waved away my concerns with an elegant gesture. "This isn't about military matters."

I fell silent, watching as he paced before the fireplace. The flames cast shifting shadows across his face, making his expression even harder to read than usual.

"The king has given you three months," he said finally. "To either marry or marry exotic duke."

My fingers tensed against my skirts. "Yes, Your Highness."

"Is there someone you favor? Someone you wish to marry?"

I shook my head. "No, Your Highness."

"Not even..." his voice softened slightly, "someone you hold in particular regard?"

"No one."

He stopped pacing and turned to face me directly. "Then I have a proposal. I would like to marry you."

The goblet I had been holding slipped from my suddenly numb fingers, clattering against the stone floor. Wine spread like blood across the worn flagstones.

"Your Highness jests," I managed, my voice barely steady.

"The proposal is serious, even if the sentiment behind it is not what you might expect." His lips curved in a smile that held more sadness than humor. "I have no wish to accept the king's choice of bride, and you have no wish to enter court. It could be...a marriage of convenience."

I stared at him, trying to make sense of his words. "But surely there are other ladies more suitable-"

"The lady I wish to marry is already wed to another." The raw honesty in his voice made me flinch. "My heart is thoroughly and irrevocably given to her. I cannot offer any other woman true devotion. So why should I condemn some innocent girl to a loveless marriage?"

Understanding dawned, along with an unexpected ache of sympathy. I had never imagined the kingdom's most formidable commander could harbor such deep, hopeless devotion.

He straightened, his expression settling back into its usual mask of authority. "Think on it, Lady Isabella. I offer you protection from unwanted suitors and freedom from court politics. In return, I ask only for your discretion and friendship. Should you ever find someone you truly wish to marry, I would not stand in your way."