The engines of the royal jet begin to hum lower as we start our descent. I look out through the oval window, and all I see is turquoise, endless, bold, and impossibly calm. Royal Island. The private getaway, reserved only for monarchs and their consorts. No palace walls. No protocol. No whispers behind velvet curtains but well secured.
Right now, it's just the sea… and sky… and Cassian beside me and then the flight crew.
He watches me more than he watches the view. I feel it even without turning. His fingers are loosely tangled with mine, thumb stroking the back of my hand like he's speaking to my pulse.
"It's more beautiful than I imagined," I whisper.
He nods. "It's the only place I trust to hold your silence without trying to fix it."
The jet touches down smoothly on the island's private airstrip. No security sirens. No cameras. Just the quiet wind and the scent of salt in the air.
As we step out, warm air rushes to greet us. For the first time in a long time, I don't feel like a symbol. Or a statue in a gown. I feel human.
A small team of villa staff bows in welcome. All of them handpicked by Cassian; trustworthy, discreet, kind-faced. Their smiles are warm, not rehearsed. They don't call me Your Highness. Just ma'am.
We're led to the villa. A quiet marvel built into the cliffside, with wide glass walls, natural stone floors, and a wooden deck that seems to kiss the sea below. I take in the view, the air, the freedom and I feel something shift inside me.
Peace.
Not full. Not perfect. But peace, still.
I remove my sandals and step out onto the deck. The ocean stretches endlessly before me, its breeze pressing gently against my cheeks. I close my eyes and breathe it in like a balm.
From behind, Cassian slides his arms around my waist and rests his chin lightly on my shoulder.
"This is your space," he murmurs, "Your breath. Your sky. I just came along to watch you remember who you are."
I lean back against him and whisper, "I think I already am."
And for the first time since the night I lost her… I mean it.
***
The scent of grilled fish and honey-roasted plantain lingers in the salty air, carried on the breeze as twilight folds over the island like a velvet shawl. The villa staff has left us alone, just as we asked. No servers. No guards. No distractions.
Only Cassian and I, barefoot on the wooden deck, sitting at a low candlelit table with cushions instead of chairs and the waves humming below us like a lullaby.
He pours us a drink, something sparkling and foreign, soft pink in color, sweet and light on my tongue.
"To you," he says, clinking his glass gently against mine, "and to everything you've survived."
I smile faintly and sip. "And to everything we're still becoming."
He reaches across the table, fingers brushing mine. There's something different in his touch tonight. It's not urgent. Not desperation. Just steadiness, the kind you fall into without fear.
The stars begin to bloom across the sky, one by one. And somewhere between the silence and the soft sea wind, we begin to talk.
Not as royals.
Not even as husband and wife.
Just like two people who once lost everything… and somehow found each other again.
He asks about my graduation. My final exam. I ask about the Royal Council, the reforms we're still shaping. And then like a gentle tide, the conversation shifts.
"Ray," he says softly. "He hugged me so tightly before we left. I think he believes I'm his personal superhero now."
My throat tightens. I laugh, but it sounds too thin.
"He adores you," I say.
"And I adore him," he replies, sincere and soft. "He's got your eyes. Your stubbornness too."
I almost say it.
I almost let it fall from my lips, the truth that's been resting on my chest for years.
He's yours, Cassian.
But something stops me. Maybe it's the firelight. Maybe it's the way this island cradles us in peace, as if even the sea has forbidden sorrow to touch us here.
Not now, I tell myself.
Not here.
This island is for rest, for healing… not for secrets to bleed.
So I smile instead. "He's the best thing that ever happened to me."
Cassian leans closer and touches my cheek, brushing a stray curl away. "I want us to have more moments like this. Not just escapes. Not just breaks between battles."
I nod slowly. "Me too."
He rises, offers his hand. "Come dance with me."
There's no music. Just the ocean.
But I take his hand anyway.
We dance barefoot under the stars, arms wrapped tight, forehead to forehead. There's no rhythm, no steps, just us swaying like we never broke.
And for the first time in a long time, my laughter comes easily. His smile is unburdened. And my heart feels a little less heavy.
When he kisses me, slow and searching, I feel my body remembering joy.
I won't cry tonight.
And I don't tremble when his hand finds mine in the dark.
I only whisper, "Thank you for bringing me here."
And he answers, "Thank you for letting me."
We fall asleep tangled in warmth and salt air, the doors open, the moon watching like a quiet witness.
And in my dream, I don't see sorrow.
I see a girl, dancing in waves.
She looks just like me.
And she's laughing.
***
The night deepens around us like silk. The ocean hushes its rhythm, and the candles flicker low. We've come inside, but the doors remain wide open, letting in the breeze, the scent of salt and hibiscus, the murmuring waves.
I sit by the edge of the bed, unwrapping the day from my body — the gold hoops, the coral dress, the pins in my hair. Cassian watches me from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, eyes softer than I've ever seen them.
"You look different tonight," he says, walking slowly toward me.
I glance at him over my shoulder. "Different how?"
"Like a woman who finally sees what she's always been made of."
He stops behind me and lifts my hair, pressing his lips to the nape of my neck. I close my eyes.
"You walked into my palace, a girl desperate and needy, all thought they could break," he murmurs. "You had no power. No allies. You were afraid."
His hands trail down my arms, resting lightly.
"But you didn't crumble."
I exhale, slowly, deeply.
He comes around to face me, kneels at my feet, a king on his knees before his wife.
"You've become a woman I admire and respect Celeste. Not just for surviving. But for rising. For becoming something none of us saw coming."
I try to speak, but my throat tightens.
"You are fierce. And wise. And you wear your scars with grace. You earned every title; Princess. Barrister. Future Queen." He pauses. "You earned me too."
A tear slips down my cheek, and he catches it with his thumb.
"You have no idea," he says, "how much I love the woman you've become."
He rises slowly, cradling my face in both hands. "Let me show you."
I nod, unable to find words.
He lifts me gently, as if I might break but I won't. Not tonight.
He lays me down on the soft bed, not like porcelain… but like something sacred. And when he kisses me, it isn't rushed or desperate. It's reverent. Patient. Like he's learning me all over again.
The world falls away.
And for the first time in a long, aching while, I let love take me whole, without fear, without apology.
His love doesn't fill the empty places in me. It honors them.
And in the hush between heartbeats, skin against skin, I remember what it feels like to live.
Not just survive.
But live.
As we lie tangled beneath the soft sheets, Cassian's breath steady against my shoulder, I stare at the ceiling; no longer lost, no longer broken.
The girl who once entered the palace with trembling steps is gone.
In her place now stands a woman shaped by sorrow, sharpened by truth, strengthened by love.
I still carry grief. I still carry secrets. But they no longer define me.
What defines me now… is choice.
I choose this love.
I choose this life.
I choose to rise again and again until the crown fits not just my head, but my soul.
The world may not be ready for the Queen I will become.
But I am.
Let them watch.
Let them wonder.
Because I am Celeste Lucien and I have only just begun.