Chapter 4

I suddenly got it and nodded enthusiastically.

Grandma once told me that when Mom was commanding troops, she loved coming up with aliases for herself.

"William Zeller" must be one of his aliases, a name that made him sound like a completely different person.

But honestly, I didn't care what he called himself. Even if he went by something silly like "Charles Goofball," it wouldn't have bothered me one bit.

If he were "Goofball," I'd simply call him Goofball.

Since he was William Zeller, of course, I'd call out, "William!"

William had a small tent set up for me right next to his, so I was always nearby.

That same day, my grandma sent him a letter, asking if he could look after me.

He agreed.

With so many men in the camp, staying close to him was the safest place I could be.

Later, when he asked why I'd come to Northreach, I told him everything.

He listened without a trace of mockery. Then, William personally took me to the edge of the training grounds. "Just stay here," he said. "Don't wander off."

I promised brightly and obediently fetched a small stool, sitting up straight.

The wind was so fierce it whipped up clouds of dust, and I almost got sand in my eyes.

Rubbing them, I glanced down at the field below.

That was when I saw William. His hair tied back, the hem of his clothes snapping in the wind.

He wasn't in armor today, just a simple, narrow-sleeved uniform that made it easy for him to move and command.

Even dressed plainly, he carried that unmistakable air of authority, the kind I couldn't look away from.

Was there something in the Northreach air that made people more brilliant?

Maybe that was why I felt clearer since arriving. And Charles, no, William... he seemed even more striking than before.

Even the plainest clothes looked noble on him.

I sat there from morning till evening, and before I knew it, I'd spent the whole day just watching him drill the troops.

Maybe the wind really was blowing the fog from my mind.

I noticed a small tear at the cuff of his sleeve.

As his fiancée, of course, I had to help.

The next day, a few tiny white lilies had quietly bloomed over the tear on William's cuff.

He hadn't even noticed the rip, but now it was mended.

My embroidery skills weren't the best. The petals were a little uneven. But the stitches were tight and careful, every one placed with thought.

A few days later, nearly every shirt and jacket he owned had gained a small, charming motif.

Those little designs seemed to have a life of their own. They didn't just decorate his clothes. They quietly took root in his heart, too.

He never even caught me sewing them on.

Out of instinct, William glanced toward the small knoll by the training grounds.

I'd stayed up late working and was perched on my stool, fighting back yawns but determined to get my daily dose of wind.

With his sharp eyesight, he could easily make out the faint shadows under my eyes from where he stood.

I was propping my chin on one hand, nodding off, my head bobbing like a little chick pecking for grain. It must have looked ridiculous.

I wore a pale yellow dress that flowed in the dry wind, my hair in two braids. A tiny red beauty mark graced the center of my forehead, visible whenever I moved.

My dress and the loose wisps of hair at my temples danced in the gritty Northreach breeze.

From a distance, I must have looked like a golden, fragrant pear, ripe and tempting.

If I hadn't gotten a little slow after that childhood accident, as the last descendant of Lord Ashford, I might have been out there like my mother, riding into battle, fierce and unstoppable.

Watching me struggle to stay awake, William felt an unexpected softening in his chest.

He suddenly remembered that the little bundle I'd carried all the way here also had a few identical lilies embroidered on it.

The thought made him act almost without thinking. He walked toward me.

He'd always considered himself a simple man, sharing hardships and comforts with his soldiers, never fussing over food or clothes.

If he wanted anything, with his title as the King of Northreach and his record of victories, he had only to ask. He simply never did.

But here was this girl, someone he'd known only a few days, staying up late, just for him.

He supposed he ought to return the favor for those lilies.

William, his expression as unreadable as ever, slowly approached and crouched down right in front of me.

Suddenly, the buffeting wind and dust stopped. Someone was shielding me. I opened my eyes blearily to see his broad, sturdy back.

"Come on," he said, his voice low. "Let me take you back to rest."