It’s been two days. Now, three days of nonstop rain and skies were far from clearing. I had yet to see Drevon; I don’t think he had co into our chambers for a while. Maybe he did when I wasn’t awake.
It was slowly eating away at , and my entire existence scread at to go to him. But every ti I did, I’d linger outside the door and make no attempts to go in.
I even saw Lucan, who urged to see Drevon, but I’d just walked away. Sotis, I’d crouch there for a few minutes, and Lucan would talk with , and I’d ask him about Drevon.
Lucan would always reply with; Why don’t you see for yourself? I knew it was an endeavor to get to see him, but it never worked.
I needed sothing to distract myself with, so I thought about seeing the Dowager and discussing the courts. There were many plans I needed to make to ensure the inner court was solid, and I also needed details about the Dowagers.
It’s been a while since the castle functioned properly. As per tradition, the castle will be closed off for a week if a Balthar dies.
The week was almost over, and I hoped by the end of it, everything would go back to normal. I truly hope it would, because that was the only way to move on and accept reality.
"Announce ," I said to the handmaid when I got to the door.
"Your Majesty," she bowed. "The Dowager is not in."
That was odd; she was always in this room. It beca a normal thing to always visit her here.
"Where is she then?"
"Um..." she wavered.
"Where is the Dowager?" I asked more profoundly.
"Please, this way." She led out.
I have never ventured around her wing before; this was the first ti. It had a taste fitting for her status; the decorations were older, too, showing the passage of ti; however, it held on to its grand aesthetics.
We passed through a corridor with several paintings.
Was that the previous monarch?
Dare I say he was a very handso man? Very. And the woman beside him must be Dowager; she looked younger and very beautiful. I think this portrait was done right after the coronation.
I veered my gaze to another. One was of Diana, and the other of Drevon. They looked younger. Drevon’s painting must have been made before he went off to war, and I could see all the boyish charms. I smiled, admiring him.
"Your Majesty?"
I snapped my gaze back to the handmaid like I had woken up from a trance.
"Right..."
We continued our walk until we got to an open space. There was a bridge leading to a gazebo above a pond. The Dowager was there, watching the skies.
I narrowed my eyes. She looked different, not the usual, almost like she was lost in thought.
"How long has she been here?"
"For days now, every morning she cos here, only when it’s dark she leaves."
My face morphed into shock. Is she... griefing?
"Thank you. You can leave now."
The Handmaid bowed before leaving. I linger there, just watching the Dowager before working up the courage to walk to her.
The bridge had a roof, so I wasn’t too worried about getting wet.
"Good Afternoon, Mother," I greeted.
"It’s already afternoon?"
"Yes," I replied.
"I see. No one knows where the ti goes with such weather. We haven’t had days of rain in the spring like this before. Winter is always in until a quarter of the year. So many changes these days."
She sounded slow, with no life to her tone. Her voice always held power and confidence. This was very unusual, as if she were a different person entirely.
"Are you..." I chewed the inside of my mouth, not sure if I should ask such a question. "Alright?"
"He has no portrait."
"What?"
"Damon has no portrait. It was never made."
I see. That was why I didn’t find any in the corridor.
"The reason could be because he left the castle or that he never liked having one done." She sighed heavily. "I have been debating for a while about what reason it could be, but I haven’t found one to match. The long hours of thinking made realize I know nothing of him, what he likes or hates."
"You..." I wavered, unable to conjure a word.
She chuckled. "What? Is it too much to comprehend that I’m saying such words? Unfitting, isn’t it? That a woman like speaks of her unknown son."
"Yes," I admit, sitting in front of her. "It’s unfitting hearing this from you."
The Dowager smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "The royal painter ca to for descriptions for his portrait." She stirred her tea with the small spoon. "But I couldn’t conjure an image. I don’t even rember what he looks like. Silly of , given that he ca to before the coming of the Fates."
All these years, she never acknowledged that Damon existed. She never gave much thought to it until now, everything must be crashing in all at once, and it must be an eye-opener for her.
"You don’t have the right to grief him," I said.
Her cup stopped halfway to her lips.
"How can you mourn soone who never existed to you?"
She dropped the teacup on the saucer too fast, and a clang filled the air. Her eyes remained on her spilled tea.
"Yes... How could I mourn soone who doesn’t exist to ? However, I birthed him, probably the only thing that made his mother. The only thing I share with all my children."
I dropped my gaze. "You feel sothing after all."
"Unfortunately, I do. Maybe this is divine punishnt for . A son killing a son."
Her last words awakened sothing within , and the gravity of it made my stomach sink. I have been so consud with the thought of hurting Drevon that I didn’t once realize the burden he now carried.
I have been so stupid.
I push to my feet. "I shall leave you now, mother."
She said nothing to , but before I left, I said. "I rember what he looks like. I shall et the painter for his portrait."
Her wide eyes pinned on .
"That is enough to know he existed." I strode out of the gazebo, desperate to get to Drevon.
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