Sylvia looked at Aldric. There was a smile on his face, not the smile she had once known, warm and teasing, but sothing thinner, edged, dangerous. For an instant, she almost asked what he ant, but fear clamped down on her throat. Her mind spun. If she faltered now, he would see it. She would play bold until she could reach the prince.
Her breath hitched, but she refused to turn away. Slowly, deliberately, she drew in air and straightened her spine.
"You’ve grown bold with your imagination," she said evenly, though her voice was tighter than she liked.
Behind her, his footsteps ca closer—asured, unhurried, deliberate. The sound alone made her pulse stumble.
"Imagination?" he echoed, amusent coiling through his tone. "Strange, then, that your pulse betrays you. I can hear it from here."
She spun, anger flashing to smother the dread building in her chest. "And if you think you know sothing, say it plainly, Aldric. Or is it easier for you to lurk in corners, whispering nonsense?"
He stopped only a pace away. She had to tilt her chin to et his eyes—blue, glacial, glimring with sothing unreadable, sothing sharp enough to cut.
"I don’t whisper," he said softly. "Not when truth can be spoken aloud. Corvalith. You and your little sches." His lips curved, not quite a smile. "Do you think you can run?"
Her fingers clenched hard in her skirts, nails digging into flesh. She would not break. Not before him.
"Careful," she murmured, her voice low, steady only by force. "If you accuse of—sothing..."
He laughed, a quiet, almost fond sound that only unsettled her further. Leaning close, his breath brushed her ear.
"Ah, Sylvia," he whispered. "I’m not accusing. I’m waiting. I won’t tell the prince that his precious princess is planning to flee. Do you know how it would wound him? But you—stop trying. Corvalith will not save you. You saw what happened to their queen. I will not let the princess leave him."
Her chest tightened, her heart thundering in her ribs, but she lifted her chin, her face smooth, though every nerve inside scread.
He drew back, studying her, tilting his head as though weighing her soul. His voice slid low, silken and final.
"And you cannot leave ."
The words struck like a blow. Sylvia’s eyes widened, her breath breaking. She staggered back, then turned, skirts tangling at her legs as she bolted. She didn’t stop until the sound of a door opening reached her ears. It was from the princess’s chambers.
She ran toward it, chest heaving, and froze on the threshold. Lorraine was there.
Alive.
Sylvia’s heart lifted, relief crashing through her chest so swiftly it almost hurt. "Your Highness!" she gasped, half laughing, half weeping. Her hands flew to her mouth as if she couldn’t believe the sight before her.
Emma rushed in behind her, breathless, her expression blooming into joy at the sight of Lorraine. She dropped imdiately to her knees. "It’s my fault. I’ll accept any punishnt you give ."
For the first ti in what felt like an eternity, Sylvia could breathe.
Lorraine smiled softly at her maids—at her girls, who had carried her secrets and her burdens far too long. "Help get dressed," she said, her voice warm though her fra carried exhaustion. She was in her chambers—at least according to the narrative that shielded her—but she had entered through the hidden tunnels, and soon, she would need to welco Leroy and Aralyn.
She paused, her gaze settling on them with quiet intensity. "I have a lot to say to you." She almost laughed at herself. So much had happened in the past hours that it felt as though an entire year had passed.
" too," Sylvia whispered, her eyes glistening. She drew closer, lowering her voice as though the walls might listen. "Zara was never the mistress."
Lorraine’s lips curved, a knowing smile. "I know." She touched the erald pin gleaming in her hair. "I know he threw Zara and Cedric out. He found , Sylvia..." Her voice trembled softly. "He found ."
Sylvia’s eyes widened, heart pounding. "But where were you? How did the prince find you?"
Lorraine looked at her, a quiet nod saying all that needed to be said—that the story must wait. Sylvia understood. She swallowed her questions and only studied her princess, who, though weary, seed to shine with a brightness, a joy that could not be hidden.
Her eyes landed on the erald pin once more, and Sylvia’s heart squeezed. For all that Lorraine had endured, she was happy. That was all she had ever wanted.
"Aldric..." Sylvia couldn’t even say his na loud. She needed to warn the princess about him. But Lorriane had turned her attention toward Emma.
"Emma," Lorraine called gently.
Emma stepped forward, trembling. Lorraine took her hand. Words failed them both. Emma broke first, tears spilling freely, though no apology left her lips. Lorraine only squeezed her hand and patted it, her smile quiet, forgiving.
Mistakes had been made, but in the end, everything had worked out. Lorraine knew now, beyond doubt, how fiercely Leroy loved her. And she was happy.
Lorraine descended the steps as the sound of wheels and hooves filled the courtyard. The carriage halted, and from it stepped Leroy—tall, composed, and at his side an old woman, filthy, unkempt, her figure drawing startled murmurs from the household staff.
"She’ll be staying with us," Leroy said, his voice curt, silencing their whispers.
Lorraine’s gaze swept past the crowd until it found Aldric. As expected, he was already at her side, watchful. With deft, graceful motions, she signed her instructions: the woman was to be bathed, clothed, given the finest guest chamber and nourishing als. A physician was to attend her without delay.
Leroy’s eyes lingered on Lorraine as she returned to the silent language of her hands. Perhaps she didn’t wish to reveal the truth, not yet. He didn’t press her. His lips curved faintly instead, catching the erald glint of his pin in her hair, worn openly for all to see.
But he also saw the weariness shadowing her eyes.
Without a word, he guided her inside, past the whispers, into the dining hall. He drew out a seat for her at the long table; sothing they had never done before, eating together. She accepted it quietly, glad for the unspoken gesture.
When the al was set before her, she found her appetite gone. She lifted only a glass of milk, sipping slowly, the rest untouched.
Leroy exhaled, the sound quiet but heavy. With a flick of his hand, he dismissed the servants, leaving only silence around them. "Go and rest," he said at last. His voice was firm but low, ant only for her. "Stop thinking for once."
She looked up at him, the faintest protest forming on her lips. Of course she was thinking; always thinking, always planning the next step.
"No, but—"
He didn’t let her finish. In one fluid motion, he was at her side, lifting her into his arms before she could resist.
"Leroy," she breathed, startled, her voice small against his chest. "What are you doing?"
Reviews
All reviews (0)