Leroy leaned against the carved panel, his gaze following every movent as Lorraine shed her silk dress. The fabric slipped down her shoulders like spilled moonlight before pooling soundlessly at her feet. Then, quickly ca the shift as she changed to linen, plain and rough, swallowing her radiance as she tried to disguise herself.
She looked suddenly smaller, unbearably mortal, as if the tower walls might forget she had ever been its queen.
She bent to the pocket of her discarded gown, fingers searching. When she drew her hand back, he saw the gleam of green in her palm.
The erald pin.
His erald pin.
Sothing inside him tightened. That simple piece of jewelry, compared to her many treasures, was almost unworthy of her. And yet she held it now as though it were the only jewel in the world.
Her hand moved, subtly, toward the pocket of her linen dress.
He caught her wrist.
Lorraine stilled. Her lashes lifted, and their eyes t. Her expression was unreadable, but her silence was loud enough to echo between them. She didn’t have to explain. He understood. She could have taken gold, diamonds, anything that would have bought her freedom for a lifeti. But when she had thought of leaving, leaving him, her hands had reached for this.
Just this.
Leroy’s throat ached. He turned her wrist slowly, reverently, and pressed his lips to the inside of it. Her skin was warm beneath his mouth, fragile with the flutter of her pulse. He lingered there, as though he could drink her love, her defiance, her secrets, into himself and never let them go.
His chest hurt with too much feeling. This woman... his wife, his unknowable miracle. She had doubted him. She had thought him faithless, thought him capable of keeping another woman in his arms... and still she had risked everything to save his life.
That kind of love... it was rciless, terrible in its power, because it ca even when wounded.
He could never. If he had believed her unfaithful, jealousy would have consud him until nothing was left; he would have burned down the world before he could ever protect her as she had protected him.
But she? She had chosen love even in pain. Chosen him, always him.
His voice was low, breaking against her silence. "Lorraine..."
Her lips parted as if to answer, but she said nothing. She didn’t need to. The erald pin in her hand said more than words could. She didn’t understand why she took only this with her, either.
And suddenly, he couldn’t bear the thought of it hidden away. Gently, he took the pin from her trembling fingers, brushed back the loose strands of her hair, and fixed it there, letting the jewel catch the faint light. A small defiance against the plainness of her disguise, a visible promise that she carried a piece of him no matter where she went.
"Not in your pocket," he murmured, his thumb brushing the curve of her cheek. "It belongs here. Always."
The fire between them trembled into sothing deeper, almost unbearable. And in that fragile, fleeting mont, when silk lay forgotten on the floor and linen tried to make her a stranger, Leroy understood the truth...
No exile, no prophecy, no throne could take her from him. Because she had already chosen what to carry with her into the unknown.
And it was him.
He could never asure up to her.
He caught her wrist as she tried to slip the erald pin back into the folds of her dress. His grip was firm, almost desperate. "Why not?" he asked quietly. He didn’t like the way she wanted to hide it again, as though the small piece of him she carried didn’t matter.
"Leroy," she said softly, lifting her free hand to his cheek. Her palm was warm, steadying, even as her words cut. "I started a war with House Dravenholt. Why aren’t you mad at ?"
His jaw tightened, but his eyes burned. "Do you know what you said?" he whispered.
War? He didn’t want another war. But he would stand by her side.
"She said sothing, didn’t she?" Lorraine’s lips curved, bitter with recognition. She didn’t need to guess. She knew. She was back in the mirror lake, and the woman had been there too. Her mory frayed at the edges, stolen by that reflection. She had lost ti.
"Who is she?" Leroy asked. His voice cracked, his lashes wet. He thought he had kept that burden from her, that he had shielded her from knowing. But she already carried it, heavier than he could imagine.
He hated it. Hated that she bore it in silence, as though she had to endure everything alone. A helpless fury rose in him, clawing at his ribs. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and tear away every pain that touched her. Instead, he felt useless. Again.
"She might be the Swan Oracle of the past... or soone else entirely. I don’t know," Lorraine murmured.
Leroy’s hand tightened around hers. His voice was hoarse. "How can I help? What do you want from ?" If she knew this much, surely she knew more. He would give anything, everything.
Her eyes lit with a sharp, dangerous gleam. "The Dowager will use to bring you down. She’ll strike my empire first, because she knows she cannot defeat otherwise. But I have plans..." She smirked, and in that smirk was the steel of a woman who had lived her whole life weaving webs others never saw until it was too late.
"Plans?" Leroy’s brow furrowed.
"I didn’t bring down my father in a day," she said, voice calm, ruthless. "It took years. I planned every step, drew seven backups for each failure. I’ve done the sa with House Dravenholt. I almost executed it each ti he tried to kill you. If they go against you, I’ll burn their legacy to ash. Their empire will choke on scandals for a thousand years. Before she attacks , I’ll attack her house and make her busy putting out the fire in her house."
Leroy blinked, his breath catching. He wasn’t even surprised; he was just stunned at the cold brilliance of her. Sohow, between her smiles and her secrets, she had already mapped their enemies’ downfall. And yet, as pride swelled in his chest, so did despair.
Because it ant she had been preparing for this war alone.
His gaze dropped. She was slipping the erald pin away again. "And?" he pressed.
"You leave first," she said firmly. "I’ll follow. My strength is my anonymity. No one looks twice at dressed like this. But you—you’re recognized everywhere. If we’re seen together, questions will start. Your enemies will guess. My masks will burn."
"You want to walk away from ," Leroy said. His voice was low, almost accusing.
Lorraine sensed the change in his aura as she observed her.
Is he angry?
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