Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 144: One Good Thing

21 February, 1360. Westerhaven Palace, Islia

Camilla suddenly jerked and blinked. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness and the images that had been running through her mind gradually faded. She had been back at Arlen Castle, trying to evade the Islian mercenaries. It had just been a nightmare, she told herself, nothing more. Which meant...

She had fallen asleep.

Camilla sat up in bed as panic seized her. Her sudden movements caused the person next to her to groan sleepily.

William was next to her. Camilla sighed with relief.

"Another nightmare?" his voice was rough with sleep.

Camilla nodded and laid back down, facing him. William was sprawled on the bed, shirtless. He pulled her closer as she wrapped her arms around him, breathing in his warm, spicy scent that she loved so much.

She was going to miss him dreadfully.

"How late is it?" she whispered.

"It’ll be dawn soon, I expect." William replied, rubbing his eyes. "The king’s meeting only ended a few hours ago."

Camilla tightened her hold around his waist. "I hate the thought of us being apart for so long and I won’t even know if you’re well or not."

William sighed deeply. "I know. We just have to pray this conflict can be won easily and I can be back in perhaps a month or two." Camilla felt his hand rubbing her back.

"Are you afraid?" she asked softly.

"No man goes into battle without any fear. But I’ve been lucky in war so far, and I plan to stay that way."

"Please don’t be reckless." Camilla felt her throat closing up. She knew William’s instincts were to throw himself headlong into the everything he did. The thought of him facing off with Moraigthian soldiers who eschewed chivalry and ignored even the principles of treating the fallen with dignity, made her freeze in terror.

"Asking a knight to avoid risks in a war is like asking a bird not to fly." There was a little humour in his otherwise melancholy voice.

"Then let other knights take the risks. I only worry about you."

"What you’re describing sounds a lot like cowardice." he muttered.

"I don’t care what you call it. Just promise you’ll return to me safely."

William nodded in the darkness, then pulled her hard against his frame and planted a kiss on her mouth. Camilla leaned her forehead against his and swallowed hard.

"Try not to worry about me. I’ll be back before you know it and everything will go back to exactly how it was." William sounded convinced.

Not exactly, Camilla opened her mouth to speak but was the next moment, found William’s lips pressing against hers. She slid her arms around his neck, hunger and sorrow dueling inside her. William’s hands started hastily pulling up her chemise.

"Wait. Shouldn’t you try to sleep more?" As much as Camilla craved him, she knew he had a hard day on horseback ahead of him.

"To hell with that." William rasped. "I’m going to really fucking miss you. So let me have one good thing on my mind before I have to go." He kissed her again and Camilla didn’t try and stop him when he tugged the chemise over her head.

They had made love so many times in the past, with passion, love, playfulness. This was the first time they had done it to seek comfort from each other. Limbs hotly entwined, Camilla wished they could stay wrapped around each other and ignore the duties hanging over their heads. William silently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

When their breathing finally slowed, Camilla turned to face him. "There’s something you should know. I found out, uh, a few days ago that-"

A loud, impatient bang on the bedchamber door made them both jolt.

"Who the fuck is it?" growled William, pushing himself up on his elbows.

"Begging your pardon, Your Highness!" Casimir’s tight, nervous voice drifted in. "But His Majesty summons you urgently. A messenger has just arrived from the borderlands and brings updates on the invaders’ latest movements. It’s bad news, I’m afraid."

Cursing bitterly, William climbed off the bed and started dressing in a hurry.

Camilla sat up in alarm, clutching the sheet to her. "I really have to talk to you, William. It’s important."

William tugged on the shirt he’d discarded earlier in the day, fumbling with the buttons in his hurry. "I’ll be back as soon as I can."

"But-"

Casimir’s voice called out again. "Hurry please, my lord! The king said he won’t tolerate delays."

William pulled his tunic over his head at the same time as he strode to the door. He had left the bedchamber before Camilla could even think to react.

She fell back against the pillows and burst into tears.

- - -

The Islian army started departing from the palace’s main gates not even two hours after. William wasn’t granted permission to return to his bedchamber after receiving the messenger’s report, instead being sent to oversee final preparations as his men assembled themselves in the entry courtyard. The news from the borderlands was so dire that King Edward’s sole focus was on departing with great haste.

As the sky had gradually started taking on the grey tinge of dawn, Camilla realised with horror that she might not see William again unless she deliberately sought him out.

Leaping out of bed, Camilla rushed into the dressing room and tugged on the first front lacing gown she could get her hands on. Nausea started running through her in waves but she ignored it as she hastily fastened her dress. As she pulled the laces tight, she noticed a dull ache to her breasts.

She ran her fingers through her messy hair to tame it, then ran into the corridor.

Camilla pushed her way towards the grand central staircase, pressing past countless servants and soldiers as she descended. Every nook and cranny of the ground floor of the palace seemed crammed with people, a churning sea of bodies. Her eyes scanned desperately for a familiar face but found none.

Camilla pushed through, one hand protectively shielding her belly from any jostling elbows. Once on the ground floor, she squeezed her way to the main entry doors, tumbling into the grand courtyard.

Camilla looked around and gasped at the overwhelming site, awestruck.

The entire courtyard was crammed with rows of armoured soldiers on horseback, the chaotic sound deafening. It looked like the entire royal army was gathered in one place.

How was she supposed to find William in the vast crowd? Was he going to have to simply depart without saying goodbye?

The panic and futility threatened to bubble over in Camilla’s chest. Craning her head around quickly, she eventually caught a glimpse of him on the western side of the courtyard. William was on his favourite warhorse, clad in armour identical to the surrounding men. It was only because he was still holding his helmet tucked under his arm, that his bright blond hair caught Camilla’s eye.

She screamed his name but her voice was quickly swallowed up by the cacophony of noise. She would have to push her way through to have any hope at all of him noticing her.

Camilla started shimmying past men and beasts, careful when moving behind agitated horses who wouldn’t notice an unmounted person behind them. She finally managed to get near him. She yelled out to him again, her throat burning from the effort.

William heard and his eyes widened when he saw her. Handing the reins and helmet over to a squire next to him, he quickly dismounted and pushed his way over to her. He wrapped his arm around her and Camilla felt the cold steel press against her chest and belly.

"I’m sorry I couldn’t come back to see you." William’s voice was agitated. "The messenger told us that the Moraigthians have started setting fire to the entire countryside under their control, to try and scare the people into submission. When my uncle heard that, all hell broke loose."

Camilla looked at him in despair, barely able to hear him over the surrounding noise. Her heart felt completely hollowed out. What could she say to him now?

"I must go now." William gave her a quick kiss. "Be brave and pray for our swift victory, so that I can be back here with you before summer." With a final kiss, William let her go and pushed his way back to his steed. Mounting it nimbly, he grabbed his helmet from the squire and yelled last minute instructions to the men near him. His voice was harsh, his face set into a stern mask. Her lover was gone, replaced by an icy faced soldier.

All Camilla could do was stand by and watch him helplessly as he kicked his steed into motion and started leading men out, towards the main gates. She stepped back and to the side to avoid the moving forces, watching the army slowly depart. Then she hung her head and wept.