Chapter 13: A Love Tested
A shaky, held breath followed Shapira's footsteps down the dim palace corridor, merging with the night's silence. She moved like a shadow, her brown eyes scanning every corner as if searching for any hidden threat. Caution was the cloak she wore, hiding the frantic beat of her heart beneath her nightgown. The resolve to follow the suspicious group of dwarves burned in her chest, even as the shadow of William, with all his recent doubts, continued to haunt her.
Shapira hid behind a cold stone pillar, watching the dwarves' small silhouettes move nimbly through the palace garden. Faint whispers carried on the wind, seeming to mock her strained hearing. She had to get closer. Carefully, she crept from one bush to another, from one shadow to the next, until she reached a hidden garden pavilion. There, behind a silk curtain fluttering faintly in the night breeze, she saw her, the slender silhouette of Lady Isabelle, speaking with fiery gestures.
"Are you sure they won't betray me?" Isabelle's voice, sharp and cold, pierced Shapira's ears. A faint note of hatred laced every word. "William is too preoccupied with defense matters. He'll never notice."
Shapira held her breath, her chest pounding. So, it was Isabelle. She leaned her head forward slightly, trying to hear more clearly.
"The blood of Nymira flows in your veins, not the blood of that outsider," Isabelle continued, her voice filled with a deep-seated hatred, a hatred aimed at her, at Shapira. "We will ensure William is no longer distracted by her. The war preparations are the top priority. Remove all obstacles!"
The words were like daggers to Shapira's heart. Isabelle. She had mentioned William, spoken of "the outsider" and "obstacles." Shapira felt sick. This wasn't just about her, it was about William. Isabelle was planning to sabotage something important to him. Shapira's hand unconsciously reached out, brushing against an antique porcelain vase on a nearby garden table. A touch that was too rough, too sudden.
Crack!
A soft cracking sound shattered the night's curtain of silence. The vase, somehow, had split, spilling water and flower petals onto the ground.
Isabelle's head snapped up. Her dark green eyes pierced the curtain, sweeping across the garden's darkness with predatory speed. She saw Shapira. Her face, once calculating, now twisted into a mask of frozen fury. The air around them grew taut, charged with a threatening energy.
"Shapira! How dare you!" Isabelle snapped, her voice low but full of menace. Each syllable landed like a deliberate blow. She stepped out of the pavilion, crossing the threshold with a graceful yet deadly motion. "You were eavesdropping! Do you intend to stab us in the back?"
Shapira took a step back, her heart racing like a war drum. She could feel the cold fury radiating from Isabelle, but she refused to tremble. "I wasn't eavesdropping, Lady Isabelle. I … I was just taking a walk in the garden." The words felt hollow, weak in the face of the woman's wrath.
"Nonsense!" Isabelle scoffed, a cynical laugh escaping her thin lips. The sound seemed to mock every breath Shapira took. "Everything has been in chaos since your arrival. Did you think we didn't see you trying to charm Prince William? Do you think we're blind?"
Shapira looked up, her gaze sharp, refusing to be intimidated. A fire inside her refused to be extinguished. "I'm not charming anyone, Lady Isabelle. I'm just … trying to survive in this strange world. What are you doing with those dwarves? What is your plan for William?"
"That's none of your business, outsider!" Isabelle snapped back, her voice rising slightly, betraying the composure she was trying to maintain. "You should go back to wherever you came from. You are a threat to Astellia, to Prince William, to everything we fight for!"
"I am not a threat!" Shapira retorted, her voice now trembling with surging emotion. Anger and pain merged. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I know you're planning something wicked!"
Isabelle laughed. It wasn't a laugh of joy, but a cruel, gleeful sound. "Wicked? I am simply protecting Astellia from people like you!" Isabelle's gaze sharpened as if ready to pounce, to tear Shapira apart with her eyes alone. "I should have let those Orcs finish you in the forest!"
Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps and clanking armor echoed from the distance. The guards. Both Isabelle and Shapira turned toward the source of the sound. Isabelle's expression shifted, she realized their conversation could not be overheard. With a frustrated snarl, Isabelle shot Shapira one last look, her gaze laden with an unspoken threat, a promise of retribution to come. Without another word, she turned and stepped back into the pavilion, disappearing behind the curtain and leaving a trail of tension in the air.
Shapira stood frozen, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The guards were getting closer, their shadows dancing on the corridor walls. She had to go. If she was caught here, Isabelle's accusations would be all the more damning and irrefutable. With lightning speed, she spun around and ran back down the dark hallway where she had hidden before. Her heart pounded, each beat a pursuing threat. She darted from shadow to shadow until she finally reached her room, undetected.
In her room, however, relief was quickly replaced by the suffocating weight of a dilemma. She knew what she had to do. She had to tell William. But a voice in her mind whispered, questioning her again and again. Will he believe me? Isabelle was a respected noblewoman, with a silver tongue and undeniable influence. She could deny everything, turn the accusation back on Shapira, and make it seem as if she were the liar. William had been so preoccupied with the war lately, the distance that had grown between them felt palpable, a slowly widening chasm. Would her revelation only burden him further, disrupt his crucial preparations, and endanger Astellia in the face of an already immense threat? Shapira felt trapped between the truth that needed to be told and the unimaginable consequences. She sat on the edge of her bed, wringing her trembling hands, the fear swallowing her whole, paralyzing her with uncertainty.
As Shapira wrestled with her thoughts, she suddenly saw a silhouette outside her window. She rose and approached cautiously, as if afraid of disturbing the scene outside. The window overlooked the palace's back courtyard, and there, in the darkness shrouded by a thin night mist, she saw William. He was not alone. A mysterious messenger, cloaked in black with a wide-brimmed hat obscuring his face, stood before him. They spoke in low voices, their words broken by the softly moaning wind.
William looked tense. His hands were clenched into fists, and from his posture, Shapira could sense the same restlessness she felt, an oppressive weight on the soul. She tried to get closer, pulling the window open a little wider to hear their conversation. But the soft creak of the hinges was enough to make William flinch.
William's sharp gaze, always so quick and piercing, shot toward her window. His eyes narrowed, and Shapira felt his cold stare bore into her, as if she had just violated something sacred, something she was not meant to see. William's expression changed instantly. Cold. Rigid. Without a word to the messenger, William gestured with his hand. The messenger gave a short bow, then quickly fled into the night shadows, vanishing as swiftly as he had appeared, leaving a trail of mystery hanging in the air.
William didn't move. He just stood there, staring at Shapira's window. His gaze seemed to build an invisible wall between them, a wall of doubt and secrets.
"What are you doing here?" William's voice, colder than usual, cut through the night's silence. It wasn't a question; it was an accusation. "Are you following me again?"
Shapira swallowed hard, her heart sinking. "I … I didn't mean to. I just saw…."
"Saw what, Shapira?" William cut her off, his tone laced with a painful suspicion that tore at her heart. "You're always showing up where you shouldn't be."
"I was just worried," Shapira tried to explain, her voice trembling. "I saw you with that messenger, and I just wanted to know what was happening. Especially after what I heard from Isabelle .…"
"Isabelle?" William let out a cynical laugh that didn't reach his eyes. It felt hollow and false. "You still believe that cheap gossip? The kingdom's affairs are not your concern, Shapira. This is too dangerous for you to handle."
"Dangerous?" Shapira repeated, a pain stabbing her chest, deeper than any physical wound. "Why won't you tell me? Who was that messenger? Does this have to do with the war? Are you … are you hiding something from me?"
William heaved a long sigh, turned, and faced away from her, as if withdrawing from the argument, withdrawing from her. "I have great responsibilities, Shapira. There are things I cannot share."
"So, you don't trust me?" Shapira cried out, her voice breaking, mirroring her shattered heart. "After everything we've been through? After all those promises?"
William was silent for a moment, his shoulders tense, betraying the burden he carried alone. Then, without turning back, he said, "Get some rest, Shapira. I don't want to discuss this right now."
He didn't wait for her to answer. William walked away, his silhouette vanishing into the night, leaving Shapira alone with a slightly open window and a heart shattered into a million pieces.
Shapira returned to her bed and collapsed onto it, her body feeling heavy, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her. Confusion and pain swirled inside her, creating an endless storm of emotion. The day's events felt like a spider's web, tightening around her with every attempt to break free. Isabelle. Betrayal. William. Secrets. Everything felt so complicated, so dark, a labyrinth with no end. She doubted Isabelle's loyalty, now seeing her clearly as an enemy. But her doubt in William was far more painful, more agonizing than any wound. How could he, after all their promises and the intimate moments they had shared, refuse to trust her, refuse to share his burdens, as if an invisible wall had suddenly appeared between them?
A cold feeling crept up her spine, a faint whisper of a deep-seated fear. She felt an evil force was at work behind the scenes, an unseen hand trying to destroy everything she had built with William, to destroy Astellia from within. Was this part of Isolde's plan? Could her mother, even from afar, still control her destiny, poisoning every happiness she found, every hope she held? Anxiety and uncertainty flooded her, filling every inch of her being, draining every drop of her strength. She stared blankly at the ceiling, tears staining her cold cheeks.
"What do I do now?" The question echoed in her mind, unanswered, reverberating in the emptiness. The night felt so long, and Shapira knew she was alone in this darkness, at least for now. She wasn't sure who to trust anymore, or how to protect the people she loved, including William, from this increasingly invisible and terrifying threat. Her heart felt hollow, letting the darkness swallow her, letting it creep into every corner of her soul.