I Reborn to Save Her, She Loved Him

Chapter 5

Alistair didn't stay to listen to the rest of their conversation. He all but ran from the knight training ground, his face burning with humiliation.

He stumbled around in a daze, unable to even remember how he'd made it back to the prince's castle. The only coherent thought he had was to strictly order all the maids never to breathe a word about him going to the riverside training ground.

He sat slumped in the dining hall, totally out of it. His chest felt like it was being ripped open raw, the pain so sharp he could barely draw breath.

So that was why Rowena had protected Cedric at all costs. They'd had a betrothal agreement since they were kids.

So the two of them really had been carrying a torch for each other this whole time...

Alistair stared at the carefully prepared spread on the table, and bitter misery flooded his eyes.

Last time she'd told him straight up, his cooking was barely edible. He'd refused to take that lying down, practicing his cooking every single day, dead set on impressing her enough to change her mind.

But now? All that effort had been for absolutely nothing from start to finish.

When Rowena returned to the castle, Alistair was still sitting at the dining table, staring off into space.

She glanced at the hardly touched food, her expression shifting slightly. "I sent a message explicitly telling you not to wait for me, Ninth Prince. Why haven't you eaten dinner yet?"

Alistair snapped back to reality all at once, his eyelashes fluttering slightly.

He forced down the surging, bitter ache in his chest and forced a wobbly half-smile onto his face. "You've probably already eaten out, right? I'll have the servants clear all this away."

Before he could even call for the staff, Rowena walked straight over and sat down right next to him.

Alistair froze for a split second, then hurried to speak. "The food's gone completely cold. I'll have someone take it to reheat."

Rowena didn't answer. She just picked up a silver fork, speared a few bites of different dishes, and took a bite.

"It tastes very good," she said quietly.

That offhand praise twisted the already throbbing ache in his chest even sharper, and the bitter, stinging feeling only grew worse.

Before he could think better of it, the words slipped out, "Then I'll cook for you every day from now on, how does that sound?"

The second the words left his mouth, Rowena set down her silver fork. "You're a royal prince, Your Highness. There's truly no need for you to step foot in the kitchen yourself for the sake of a mere woman like me, and you certainly don't have to stay up waiting for me to eat until the dead of night. It's not worth ruining your health over."

In an instant, every last spark of hope in Alistair's chest guttered out, leaving nothing but cold, empty darkness.

It was a long while before he forced out a hoarse, quiet voice. "All right. If you don't want me to, I won't cook again."

Deep into the night, the two of them lay on opposite sides of the bed in the bedchamber, their backs turned to each other.

Alistair warred with himself for ages before he finally worked up the nerve to shift a little closer to her. His fingertips trembled faintly as he gently curled an arm around her waist.

Rowena's breath hitched sharply, and Alistair's face burned so hot he swore it could have steamed.

Outside the window, the moon hung bright and silvery, their tangled shadows stretched dappled across the stained-glass windows.

The night unfolded in soft, lingering intimacy, leaving both of them sheened in a fine layer of sweat.

In that white-hot moment where desire swept all reason away, Alistair curled his fingers tight around her firm, toned waist, his voice so rough it was barely recognizable. "Rowena, let's have a child, what do you say?"

The body pressed so close to his went rigid all at once.

Rowena's warm breath fanned against the side of his neck, and she spat out ice-cold words, "That's not a good idea."

It felt like he'd been ripped straight out of a blazing furnace and dumped into an ice-cold lake, the cold seeping into his bones before he could even draw breath.

Inside the velvet bed curtains, every last trace of warmth vanished.

Alistair couldn't sleep a wink.

Every memory of his past life with Rowena replayed over and over in his head, and the thought of the neighboring kingdom's forces storming their border strongholds three years from now left him drowning in endless, gnawing dread.

In the total silence of the room, he couldn't hold back the soft, tentative question that slipped out.

"Rowena, what if I went to the palace and petitioned the king to reinstate you as Commander of the Knights' Legion, to let you go back to leading troops at the front lines? How does that sound to you?"

The war three years down the line was unavoidable. If Rowena could take back command of the military ahead of time and start arranging defensive preparations early, there might still be a way to stop the coming tragedy.

But when those words reached Rowena's ears, they took on a completely different meaning.

Her voice went icy in an instant. "Now that I've entered a noble marriage with you and become the Ninth Prince Consort, I have no desire to lead troops into battle ever again. You don't have to keep testing me by using the king as an excuse."

A sharp, stabbing pain shot through Alistair's chest, and he scrambled to explain, "I'm not trying to test you, I swear—"

"It's late. Let's rest." Rowena cut him off mid-sentence, turning fully away from him, clearly having no interest in talking any further.

As Alistair listened to her breathing even out and grow steady, it felt like a heavy boulder was lodged in his chest, leaving him suffused with a stifling, bitter, throbbing ache.

The next morning…

When Alistair woke up, the spot next to him was already long empty.

Half the bed was cold and unoccupied, and his heart felt just as hollow as the vacant space beside him.

He waited right through until dusk, and Rowena finally came back to the castle.

Before he could even step forward to greet her, Rowena walked right up to him and dropped straight to her knees on the floor.

Alistair jumped in shock. "What on earth are you doing?"

Her voice was steady and firm. "There is something I want to beg you to help me with, Your Highness."

"Just name it," Alistair hurried to reply.

"I want to ask the Ninth Prince to enter the palace and request a royal pardon edict from the king, to revoke Cedric's status as a male courtesan and restore his freedom."