Chapter 162: Protect
My heart threatens to beat out of my chest the moment the king begins his grand descent down the stairs, and it’s not because of him. No, it’s because of the person he has on his arm, the one figure I’ve dreamt of night after endless night for the past two years. My beloved star.
The world narrows to just him, and for a moment, it’s as if time itself has come to a halt. He’s even more beautiful than I remember, and the sight of him steals the breath from my lungs. Those familiar, gentle green eyes are scanning the crowd, searching with an urgency that makes me want to cry out, to shout for him, to tell him I’m here.
He’s dressed in something frilly and ridiculous, a white shirt with so many layers of lace and fluff that it hides the delicate curve of his neck. It’s laughable because I know how much he hates clothes like that—preferring thin, simple silk shirts that feel like freedom against his skin. His hair is styled in an overly elaborate updo, a feminine tangle of curls that I know he despises, and yet, none of it can detract from his breathtaking beauty. Even in that ridiculous attire, he shines brighter than any star. My beloved star.
My hands clench, fury and longing crashing together inside me. The king’s grip on his arm, his audacity to hold Noelle like that—like he has any claim to him—ignites a rage so deep I can barely breathe through it. The king is saying something, some pompous announcement that means nothing to me because I can’t think. All I can do is feel, the tidal wave of emotion threatening to drag me under.
Then, Noelle’s eyes finally meet mine. Relief floods his gaze, and it strikes me like a lightning bolt, nearly bringing me to my knees. I want to run to him, to close the distance between us, to sweep him up and promise that we’ll never be apart again. My body moves on instinct, and I take a step forward, heart pounding with desperate hope.
But a hand on my arm stops me, and I turn to find Duke Remiro, his grip firm yet not unkind. "Thorne," he says quietly, his voice laced with something like understanding. "From the first flash of emotion I’ve seen on your face that’s not anger, I’d wager that newly announced prince must be your husband."
The words slice through me, and I barely hold back a snarl. My instincts are screaming at me to go to Noelle, to fight anyone who stands in my way. But the Duke’s next words hit even harder. "Don’t forget," he says, his voice steady and unyielding. "You have a daughter now. You can’t just rush in without thinking of her safety."
I flinch, the weight of responsibility slamming into me. He’s right, damn it. As much as I want to throw caution to the wind and tear Noelle away from this place, I have to think. I have to protect our daughter, even if it means swallowing this agony.
My gaze locks onto Noelle one last time, and the desperation in his eyes nearly undoes me. He’s being pulled away, his hand reaching back, his eyes pleading. It takes every ounce of strength I have to force myself to walk away, my heart breaking into pieces with every step.