Chapter 7

But even as he said that, he was already checking Kellan's knee. He blew softly on the scrape, then pulled a handkerchief from inside his robe and carefully wrapped it up.

Kellan looked up at him, sniffling, and wiped his tears with his chubby little hands. "T-Thank you, Your Highness."

Payton nodded, carried Kellan inside, picked up the ointment I'd set out, and personally tended to his knee.

He was so gentle the whole time, like he didn't even realize how tender he was being.

I stood in the doorway, watching them, and suddenly my eyes grew misty.

There was a time when he used to hold Kellan just like this, rocking him to sleep, feeding him, playing with him.

Back then, before Payton lost his memory, he doted on Kellan like he was the most precious thing in the world. He practically wanted to keep him in his arms all day, never letting go.

When Kellan first learned to walk, Payton's routine after court was always the same: scoop him up, stroll all over the East Palace, and brag to anyone he met, "Look, this is my son. Could he be any cuter?"

It had only been a year since those days, but honestly, it felt like a whole lifetime ago.

I wiped my eyes quickly, making sure no one saw, then headed into the kitchen.

That night, after Kellan had fallen asleep, I was alone at the counter, going over the accounts.

Suddenly, the door swung open and Payton walked in, holding a jug of wine.

"Still up?"

"Just going over the accounts."

He came up to the counter, set the jug down, and leaned in, both hands braced on the surface as he looked down at me.

"Tomorrow is the third day."

My pen paused mid-stroke.

"Have you made up your mind?"

I hesitated for a moment, then looked up at him. "Your Highness, there's something I'd like to say, but I don't know if it's appropriate."

"Go ahead."

"Your Highness, you come from such a noble family. You could have any woman you want. Why go after a widow with a kid? If people hear about it, they'll talk about you, and it could ruin your reputation."

"Reputation?" Payton scoffed. "You really think I care about that?"

I was stunned.

"Esme, I never care what people say about me."

His eyes looked even more intense under the candlelight, drawing me in.

"I only care about what I want."

"And right now, I want you."

Payton laid it out, plain and bold, without hesitation.

My heart hammered in my chest, and my sweaty palms left smudges all over the ledger.

"Your Highness, it's only been three days since we met..."

"Three days is all I need,"

I was stunned.

"Some people spend their whole lives together and never catch feelings."

"But sometimes, one look is all it takes, and you just know that she's the one for you. That's it."

He came around the counter, stopped right in front of me, and hooked a finger under my chin, forcing me to look up and meet his eyes.

"Esme, I knew you're the one for me the moment I saw you."

I looked into his eyes. They reflected my image, focused and serious, exactly the same as when he stormed into my chamber with a sword years ago.

Back then, he'd said, "Veda, if you can't be my sister, then you'll be my woman."

Now, he said, "Esme, you're the one."

Same words, different name, but that crazy, possessive obsession hadn't changed one bit.

I started to say something, but Payton beat me to it, cutting me off.

"Don't be so quick to turn me down."

He took a white hairpin from inside his robe and slipped it into my hair, fixing it carefully.

"I'll give you time, as long as you want."

"But I won't ever give up on you."

"Don't even think about shaking me off, not in this lifetime."

He grabbed the wine jug and strode out.

I stood at the counter, stunned, my fingers trembling as I touched the white hairpin in my hair.

It was identical to the one I'd worn when I left the palace.

Was this really just a coincidence?

Or maybe, somewhere in his subconscious, there was still something about me he rememberd?

I didn't know.

All I knew was, no matter how many times Payton lost his memory, he'd always find me, always fall for me, and always lock me in his world, never letting me escape.

On the third day, Payton never showed up for my answer.

He got into trouble.

The magistrate of Villanueva burst into the inn, frantic and out of breath. He said the Crown Prince had been ambushed while patrolling outside the city, got hurt, and had already been brought back to his quarters.

When I heard the news, my hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the teacup.

"Is he badly hurt?"

"Just a scratch, nothing serious," the magistrate said, wiping sweat from his brow. "But His Highness refused to let the military doctor bandage him. He insisted on coming back to see you."

I was stunned.

Me?

I didn't know the first thing about treating wounds.

But before I could say anything, the sound of hooves echoed outside.

Payton slid off his horse, his refined robe stained with blood. The sleeve of his left arm was ripped open, exposing a gash that was still bleeding.

He looked totally unfazed, even managed to give me a relaxed smile.