love unseen

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Love Unseen

Chapter Two – When the World Comes Knocking

The bakery smelled of cinnamon and rising dough when James stirred awake. Sunlight filtered through the curtains in Juliet’s small room above the shop, dust motes swirling like lazy dancers in the golden light. She was already up, apron tied at her waist, humming softly as she kneaded bread at the wooden table.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, simply watching her. There was something grounding about the way she worked—hands moving with quiet confidence, eyes focused, the curve of her smile betraying the joy she found in the simplest of tasks.

“You’re staring again,” she said without turning.

“Can you blame me?” he replied, stepping into the room. “You’re far more interesting than any crown I ever wore.”

Juliet rolled her eyes, though her cheeks flushed. “If you keep distracting me, the bread will turn out lopsided.”

“Then let it. I’ll eat it anyway.”

He moved to stand behind her, his hands resting gently on her hips. She stilled for a moment, leaning into him before shaking her head. “James, I have a bakery to run.”

“And I have a habit of getting in your way.” He grinned, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.

---

Life after the abdication had not been simple. Though James had freed himself from the expectations of the court, the weight of his decision still lingered in whispers that traveled from the capital to their quiet village. Some villagers regarded him with admiration, others with suspicion—unsure why a man who had once been destined for the throne would choose a life of flour-dusted clothes and calloused hands.

Juliet could feel it, too—the tension whenever strangers visited the bakery, their eyes lingering on James as if trying to reconcile the prince from their stories with the man who now rang up loaves of bread.

One evening, as the last customer left and the shop grew quiet, Juliet found James leaning against the counter, a crease between his brows.

“What is it?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

“They’re saying I made a mistake,” he said quietly. “That I’ll regret leaving the throne.”

“And do you?”

His gaze found hers, steady and certain. “Not for a moment. But…” He exhaled. “I won’t pretend I don’t miss some things. The influence. The ability to change things for the better.”

Juliet’s voice softened. “You’re still that man, James. You just don’t wear a crown anymore.”

---

The next morning brought trouble in a more tangible form.

A royal carriage rolled into the village, gleaming in the sunlight. People paused in their work, murmuring as the horses clattered to a stop outside the bakery. From the carriage stepped a man James knew well—Lord Davenport, one of his father’s most trusted advisors.

He entered the bakery with an air of polite disdain, his eyes sweeping over the shelves before settling on James.

“Your Highness,” Davenport said with a bow.

“It’s just James now,” he replied evenly.

“Perhaps to the villagers,” Davenport said, his lips curling faintly. “But to the kingdom, you will always be the prince who walked away.”

Juliet stiffened beside James, but he rested a hand on hers under the counter.

“What do you want, Davenport?”

The advisor’s eyes flicked toward Juliet before returning to James. “Your father is ill. Gravely so. The council fears for the stability of the throne. They wish for you to return.”

Juliet’s breath caught.

James shook his head. “No. I made my choice.”

Davenport’s voice dropped lower. “If you do not return, your cousin Edward will inherit. You know as well as I do that his rule would bring ruin.”

For the first time, doubt flickered in James’s eyes. “And what of Juliet?”

“She cannot come with you,” Davenport said smoothly. “The court would never accept her. But think carefully, my lord—the fate of the kingdom may rest in your hands.”

---

That night, James couldn’t sleep. He stood by the window, staring at the dark silhouette of the hills, his mind a storm. Juliet woke and padded over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“You’re thinking about what he said,” she murmured.

“I can’t ignore it, Juliet. Edward is… dangerous. If he takes the throne, the people will suffer.”

“And if you go back?” Her voice trembled. “What then? Do you abandon everything we’ve built here?”

His heart ached at the thought. “I don’t know. I want both. You, and the chance to protect my people.”

Juliet pulled away, her expression pained. “You can’t have both. Not in their world.”

---

The next few days were filled with unspoken tension. James tried to carry on as normal—helping in the bakery, laughing with customers—but Juliet saw the way his gaze drifted, the way his hands stilled when he thought no one was looking.

On the fifth day, the decision was made for them. A messenger arrived with a sealed letter bearing the royal crest. James broke the wax and read silently, his jaw tightening.

“My father’s condition has worsened,” he said finally. “They’re asking me to return immediately.”

Juliet felt the air leave her lungs. “And will you?”

He met her gaze, and she saw the answer before he spoke. “I have to.”

The words landed like stones in her chest.

---

The farewell was quiet. James packed a single bag, his movements slow, deliberate, as though each fold of cloth was an attempt to delay the inevitable. Juliet helped without speaking, her hands steady despite the tremor in her heart.

At the door, he cupped her face, memorizing the lines of her features. “I will come back for you,” he promised.

Juliet nodded, but said nothing.

As the carriage carried him away, she stood in the doorway of the bakery, her arms wrapped around herself, the scent of freshly baked bread drifting from the oven behind her.

---

Days turned into weeks. Letters came at first—carefully worded notes of court politics, of his father’s fragile health, of the resistance James faced from the council. Juliet read each one until the ink smudged under her fingers.

But then, the letters stopped.

The silence was worse than any bad news could have been.

One evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the village in gold, a stranger appeared at the bakery. A woman—tall, graceful, dressed in silks. She introduced herself as Lady Maren, an emissary from the palace.

“I came to speak to you about James,” she said, stepping inside.

Juliet’s heart pounded. “Is he…?”

“He is alive,” Maren assured her. “But the situation is complicated. The council has convinced him to consider marriage to Lady Helena of Westmere. They say it will secure the throne.”

Juliet’s world tilted. “And he agreed?”

“I do not know,” Maren admitted. “But I thought you should be warned.”

---

That night, Juliet couldn’t sleep. Her mind replayed every conversation, every promise James had made. Was he being forced? Was he choosing duty over her?

She lit a single candle and sat at the table, her fingers curled around the pen. She wrote him a letter—not pleading, not angry, just the truth of her heart.

James,

If you choose the throne, I will understand. But know that I will not wait in the shadows for a man who belongs to another. We built something here—something real. I hope it means as much to you as it does to me.

Juliet

She sealed it and handed it to the messenger the next morning. Whether he would ever read it, she didn’t know.

---

Weeks later, a royal procession entered the village. Juliet’s heart sank at the sight—if James was with them, he might already belong to another.

But when the carriage door opened, he stepped out—not in royal robes, but in the simple shirt and trousers he’d worn when he first came to her bakery. His eyes found hers instantly, and he crossed the square without hesitation.

“Juliet,” he breathed, cupping her face. “It’s over. I told them no. I walked away—again.”

Tears blurred her vision. “You’re a fool,” she whispered.

“Only for you.”

He kissed her then, in front of the whole village, as if to erase every doubt the weeks apart had planted. And when he pulled back, he smiled.

“I’m home.”

James’s return should have been the end of their troubles, but in the weeks that followed, Juliet noticed something in him that didn’t quite match the joy he claimed to feel. He laughed, he worked beside her in the bakery, he kissed her when the day was done — but sometimes, when he thought she wasn’t looking, his gaze grew distant.

One evening, as they closed up shop, she finally asked.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

He didn’t answer immediately, just set the last loaf on the counter and leaned against it. “The court isn’t done with me. Walking away… it’s not as simple as locking the palace gates behind me. There are those who see my abdication as an insult, and they’d rather I didn’t exist to threaten the new heir.”

Juliet’s breath caught. “Are you saying they might—”

“Yes.” His eyes held hers. “Which is why I can’t ignore it. I need to make sure their reach doesn’t extend here.”

---

The following week, strange things began happening in Lavenworth. The bakery’s delivery cart was found overturned in the woods, though the path was clear. One morning, Juliet came downstairs to find the lock on the bakery door broken — yet nothing stolen. James took to walking her home after every errand, his hand never straying far from the hilt of the small dagger he now kept on him.

One night, a loud knock came at their door. James moved to answer, but Juliet caught his arm. “Wait—”

The knock came again, sharper this time.

When he opened it, a young man stood there, hood pulled low. His voice was urgent. “They know you’re here. You need to leave the village tonight.”

James’s jaw tightened. “Who sent you?”

The young man hesitated, then glanced at Juliet. “Someone who doesn’t want to see you dead.” And with that, he slipped away into the darkness.

---

Juliet paced as James began gathering supplies. “You’re really going to run?”

“I’m not running,” he said firmly. “I’m moving us somewhere safer — at least until I know what we’re dealing with.”

“James, this is our home. We built our life here.”

“And I intend to protect that life. But I won’t gamble with yours, Juliet.”

Her chest tightened. She hated that he was right.

They left under cover of night, traveling light, following the river toward the coastal town of Eastmere. For a few days, they found peace in anonymity. James found work helping a fisherman mend nets, while Juliet sold pastries at the bustling docks.

But peace didn’t last.

---

One afternoon, while Juliet was packing up her stall, a tall man in a dark coat approached. His smile was thin, his words careful.

“You bake well, miss. Almost as well as the royal kitchen used to.”

The chill that ran down her spine told her everything she needed to know — he knew exactly who she was.

Before she could reply, James appeared beside her, his expression a mask of calm that Juliet had only ever seen when he was at court.

“Go inside,” he told her softly.

Juliet obeyed, but from the doorway she watched as James and the man exchanged low words. At one point, the man’s smile vanished, replaced by a look of cold fury, before he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

James entered the shop a moment later, his jaw tight. “They’ve sent someone to bring me back. Or to make sure I can’t come back at all.”

---

That night, Juliet sat on the bed, her knees drawn to her chest. “We can’t keep running forever.”

“I know,” James said. He was seated at the table, sketching out something on a scrap of paper.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a plan. If they won’t leave us in peace, we have to take the fight to them — end this once and for all.”

Juliet’s eyes widened. “You mean go back to the palace?”

He nodded slowly. “One last time. Not to reclaim the throne, but to make it clear I’m no threat, and that harming us will only bring ruin to those who try.”

Her heart pounded. “That’s dangerous.”

“So is waiting for them to make the next move.”

---

A week later, they set out for the capital. The journey was tense, every inn and roadside stop a test of whether they’d been recognized. By the time the palace towers came into view, Juliet’s nerves were stretched thin.

Inside the great hall, the council sat in half-circle, murmuring as James strode in with Juliet at his side. Gasps echoed — some from shock, others from disdain.

Lord Davenport rose first. “You dare return?”

“I dare,” James said evenly. “Not for your throne, but for my life — and hers. Leave us be, and I swear before the crown I will never lay claim to it again.”

The king, frailer now than when James had last seen him, studied his son for a long moment. “And if they do not?”

James’s voice hardened. “Then I will not stay silent. Every ally I still have will know who sent the threats, who ordered the shadows at my door. Do you want that stain on your reign?”

---

The silence that followed was heavy. Finally, the king nodded. “You have my word. You and your Juliet will be left in peace.”

Juliet exhaled, relief washing over her — though she knew promises in the court were fragile things.

Still, when they left the palace and returned to the open road, James reached for her hand. “It’s over,” he murmured. “Truly this time.”

She squeezed his fingers, leaning against him as they walked. “Then let’s go home. Our real home.”

The first thing Juliet noticed when they returned to Lavenworth was how quiet everything felt.

Not the silence of absence, but the deep, comforting kind that comes after a storm passes.

The bakery stood exactly as they had left it, the smell of dried herbs and old wood welcoming them home. James paused in the doorway, taking it all in with a faint smile.

“It feels smaller,” he murmured.

“That’s because you’ve been walking through palace halls again,” Juliet teased. “Give it a day and you’ll remember why it’s perfect.”

He laughed, pulling her into his arms. “It’s perfect because you’re here.”

---

The days fell back into their familiar rhythm, though now there was a new ease between them — the kind that comes when two people know exactly what they’re willing to fight for.

Customers welcomed them back warmly. Old Mr. Harrow down the lane declared James’s bread rolls “almost edible now,” which was as close to a compliment as anyone had ever heard from him. Children lingered at the counter, eager to hear James’s exaggerated tales of palace life.

And yet, beneath it all, Juliet still carried a quiet worry. Promises from the court were delicate things, and even though weeks had passed without trouble, she knew danger could return without warning.

---

One crisp autumn morning, James suggested a walk to the meadow beyond the river. They crossed the old wooden bridge, their boots crunching over fallen leaves.

When they reached the open field, he stopped, turning to face her.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, his voice softer than the breeze.

Juliet arched an eyebrow. “That sounds ominous.”

Instead of answering, James knelt down in the grass. From his coat pocket, he drew a small velvet box.

Juliet’s breath caught as he opened it, revealing a ring — not the jeweled, ornate kind of the palace, but a simple gold band engraved with the shape of a heart aflame.

“I’ve walked away from a crown, a throne, a life I was told was mine… and I’ve never regretted it. The only thing I want, Juliet, is to spend the rest of my days beside you. Will you marry me?”

Her eyes stung with tears. She didn’t hesitate. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”

---

The news of their engagement spread quickly, and for once, the talk in the village was nothing but warm. The baker’s daughter and the prince-who-was-no-longer-a-prince had become a story people whispered with smiles.

Even the palace sent word — not of objection, but of congratulations. A letter from the king himself arrived, wishing them happiness and offering to send gifts for the wedding.

Juliet read it twice before looking at James. “Do you believe this is real? That they’ve truly let us go?”

He took her hand. “Yes. Because now it isn’t just me they’d have to fight — it’s us. And I think they finally understand what that means.”

---

They decided to marry in the meadow where James had proposed, under the open sky. The whole village pitched in: Mrs. Henley sewed Juliet’s dress, the blacksmith made the arch for the ceremony, and the children wove garlands of autumn flowers.

On the morning of the wedding, Juliet stood in front of the bakery’s small mirror, her hands trembling slightly. She had faced danger, defied royalty, and stood by James through everything — yet somehow, the idea of walking toward him today made her more nervous than any of it.

When she stepped into the meadow, the nervousness melted away. James was waiting at the end of the aisle, dressed simply but with a look in his eyes that made her feel like the only person in the world.

---

They spoke their vows without notes, from memory and heart.

“I will choose you,” James said, “in every life, in every world, no matter what it costs me.”

“And I will stand with you,” Juliet replied, “whether we are in a palace or a bakery or anywhere in between.”

When they kissed, the meadow erupted in cheers. The sound carried over the hills, as if the whole world was celebrating with them.

---

That evening, as the stars came out and lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, James and Juliet sat together on the bakery steps, watching the last of their guests drift away.

“This is it,” James murmured. “Our forever.”

Juliet leaned her head on his shoulder. “Love unseen by the world… but seen by us.”

He smiled. “And that’s the only love that matters.”

The seasons rolled gently over Lavenworth, painting the village in green springs, golden summers, and crisp autumns. James and Juliet’s bakery became more than just a shop — it was the heartbeat of the town. On market days, the smell of their bread drifted all the way to the square, and on cold winter mornings, the little bell over the door seemed to never stop ringing.

Their life together was not perfect — no life truly is — but it was theirs. They argued about little things, like whether James should stop trying to invent new bread flavors (“Cardamom and apple was not a mistake,” he insisted), and Juliet teased him for taking far too long to sweep the front walk because he’d get caught up chatting with every passerby.

Still, every night they went to bed knowing they had chosen this — each other — over everything else.

---

It was late one afternoon, just as Juliet was putting the last of the loaves in the window, when the past came knocking.

Literally.

The bell rang, and when she turned, a man in a dark traveling cloak stepped inside. He pulled back his hood, and Juliet recognized him instantly — Lord Davenport. The same man who had once tried to convince James to return to the palace.

Her stomach tightened. “My lord.”

“Juliet,” he said politely, though his eyes swept the shop with an assessing glance. “Is James here?”

“He’s in the back,” she said slowly. “Should I fetch him?”

“If you would.”

Juliet hesitated a heartbeat longer before calling for her husband.

James emerged with flour on his forearms, wiping his hands on a cloth. When he saw Davenport, his expression cooled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Davenport inclined his head. “I wouldn’t have come unless it was important. Your father… the king… has passed.”

Juliet’s breath caught. James stilled.

After a long moment, he said quietly, “I’m sorry to hear it.”

“There’s more,” Davenport said, lowering his voice. “Your cousin Edward is now king, and his rule has been… chaotic. Taxes have risen, dissent is growing, and the court is divided. Many believe the crown would be better in your hands.”

Juliet’s heart sank. She had known this day might come, but she’d hoped it never would.

---

“No,” James said firmly. “I made my choice years ago. My life is here.”

Davenport’s jaw tightened. “And what of the people suffering under Edward’s rule? Can you live with yourself knowing you could have stopped it?”

Juliet saw the flicker of pain in James’s eyes. “You’re asking me to give up everything again. To give up her.” He nodded toward Juliet.

“I’m asking you to consider whether the sacrifice you made for love might be the same sacrifice needed for your kingdom,” Davenport said.

The words hung in the air long after he left.

---

That night, James was quiet at dinner. Juliet set down her fork and studied him. “You’re thinking about what he said.”

“I’m thinking about my father,” he admitted. “About the kingdom. And yes, about Davenport’s words. If Edward is truly hurting people…”

Juliet reached for his hand. “If you go back, James, you’ll lose this. You know that.”

“I wouldn’t lose you,” he said quickly.

“Wouldn’t you?” She met his gaze steadily. “You’d be swallowed by the crown again, by politics and obligations. I’d be expected to play the princess — or queen — and I don’t belong there. We fought so hard to be free of that.”

He didn’t argue. But he didn’t promise to ignore Davenport’s plea, either.

---

The next week brought more troubling news. Travelers passing through the village spoke of unrest in the capital — food shortages, riots, whispers of violence. James grew restless, pacing in the evenings, taking long walks alone.

One night, he returned to find Juliet sitting on the steps outside the bakery, arms wrapped around her knees.

“If you need to go,” she said quietly, “I won’t stop you.”

He sat beside her, staring at the cobblestones. “I can’t leave you.”

“Then we go together,” she said, surprising even herself.

His head turned sharply. “Juliet—”

“You said once that you wouldn’t give me up for a crown,” she said. “And I said I would stand with you anywhere. I meant it. If the kingdom needs you, then it will have both of us. But we go on our terms, not theirs.”

James’s eyes softened. “You’re braver than I deserve.”

Juliet smiled faintly. “You deserve exactly this.”

---

By the end of the month, they were on the road to the capital. The journey was nothing like the secretive trips they had taken before — this time, James didn’t hide who he was. At each village they passed through, people recognized him, and the story of his return traveled ahead of them like a warm wind.

When they reached the palace gates, the guards hesitated only a moment before letting them in. The great hall felt colder than Juliet remembered — the light harsher, the air heavier.

Edward sat on the throne, a jeweled crown perched awkwardly on his head. His smile when he saw James was thin and dangerous.

“Cousin,” Edward drawled. “To what do we owe this… homecoming?”

“I came to speak for the people,” James said evenly. “They are suffering. You know it, and you’ve done nothing.”

Edward’s smile didn’t waver. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but you gave up your claim. The throne is mine.”

“And you’re failing it,” James said, his voice sharpening.

The council murmured. Edward’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, James. You’re a guest here.”

Juliet stepped forward before she could stop herself. “And you’re a king who rules with fear instead of wisdom. The people are not blind — they will not follow you forever.”

Gasps rippled through the hall. Edward’s gaze turned to her, cold as glass. “Your wife has a sharp tongue, cousin.”

“And I’d advise you not to test it further,” James said quietly.

---

That night, they stayed in the old guest chambers. Juliet sat by the window, looking out over the city’s rooftops. “He won’t listen,” she said.

“No,” James agreed. “But the council will. And the people. If Edward won’t change, I’ll make sure they know there’s another way.”

It was dangerous talk, and they both knew it. But Juliet also knew this was the man she had married — not just the man who baked bread with her, but the one who would fight for what was right, even when the cost was high.

---

The next weeks were a blur of meetings, whispered conversations, and secret gatherings with members of the council. Juliet found her place beside James, speaking to the wives of councilors, listening to the servants who carried news faster than any official messenger. Slowly, they built something — a quiet network of loyalty and trust.

Edward must have sensed it, because one evening, as they returned from the council chambers, they found two guards waiting at their door.

“The king wishes to see you,” one said.

In the throne room, Edward’s smile was gone. “You’re stirring trouble, James. Some might call it treason.”

“And some might call it justice,” James said calmly.

Edward leaned forward. “Leave the city by dawn, both of you. If you stay, you’ll regret it.”

---

They left the palace under cover of darkness — but not to flee. Instead, they moved into the city itself, staying in a small inn above a tavern. From there, they worked more openly, meeting with merchants, craftsmen, and townsfolk who were ready to resist Edward’s rule.

Juliet had never imagined herself in such a role, but she found she had a knack for it — listening, organizing, keeping spirits high. She remembered something James had once told her: You don’t need a crown to lead.

And so they did.

---

By winter’s end, Edward’s grip on the city had weakened. Food began flowing into the markets again, not because Edward allowed it, but because James and Juliet had built a network strong enough to bypass the crown entirely.

One snowy morning, as they walked through the square, James took Juliet’s hand. “Whatever happens next,” he said, “I wouldn’t have made it here without you.”

She smiled. “Good. Because you’re not getting rid of me.”

The grand hall shimmered under the golden glow of a hundred lanterns. James stood at the altar, his royal sash gleaming, yet his eyes never left Juliet. She walked toward him, her simple gown flowing like a river of moonlight, every step erasing the gap between prince and commoner.

Gasps filled the room as the king himself took Juliet’s hand, placing it into James’s. “A heart that loves without seeing status,” the king declared, “is worthy of a crown.”

Tears brimmed in Juliet’s eyes as James whispered, “No walls, no titles—just us.” She smiled, the fear of the world outside melting away.

When they kissed, the crowd erupted in cheers, petals falling like blessings from the heavens. That night, the palace gates stayed open, and for the first time, the people danced alongside their prince and his bride.

Love had not only been seen—it had conquered.

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