Sylvia swallowed, sensing Lorraine’s anger. "You needed rest."
"I’ve needed rest for weeks. He just wanted to have dinner together." Her voice was calm, but it carried a certain edge. "Was I asleep, or were you protecting from sothing?"
Sylvia set the cloth down, slowly. "I thought it best."
Lorraine turned, just slightly, enough for her bare shoulder to shift and catch the lamplight. The faint bruises were no longer concealed by water and flowers. They clung to her like the mory of fire.
Her gaze softened. "You think he would’ve noticed."
"I know he would’ve." Sylvia took a breath. "He might not have known it was you, my lady, but if he saw you tonight... like this... he’d put the pieces together."
Lorraine was silent. Her fingers curled slightly on her lap.
"And what then?" Sylvia added gently. "He would demand answers. And you would be forced to lie... or tell the truth before you’re ready. Are you ready to tell him the truth?"
Lorraine nodded once. Not in agreent, not in surrender, just in understanding.
"You made the right call," she said softly.
Sylvia exhaled. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.
"I’ll explain it to him later," Lorraine murmured, her voice folding in on itself like the end of a song. "When I’m less... obvious."
Sylvia said nothing. She picked up the cloth again and resud drying her hair.
The room returned to quiet. But this ti, it wasn’t the quiet of sleep. It was the quiet before choices blood into consequences.
-----
Cedric blocked the hallway like a soldier at the gates.
"Your Highness," he said tightly as Prince Leroy approached, shoulders squared and footsteps fast but not fast enough to hide what he wanted to escape.
Leroy’s eyes flicked up, irritated. "What is it now?"
"You can’t keep hiding in there." Cedric nodded toward the study. "Zara’s waiting."
Leroy said nothing. Just brushed past. It had been the sa since his return. He hadn’t let anyone into the study since morning. Not even Aldric. And now, after spending an entire day with the Swan Divina and evening in the study, his silence stank of sothing Cedric didn’t want to na.
The Prince had headed straight for Lorraine’s room, only to be turned away again. Sylvia had made sure of that.
And now Cedric—his squire, his friend, his shadow—stood here, choking on a promise.
The prince had made him swear not to speak of the Divina. Not to hint where he’d gone, not even to Zara.
Especially not to Zara.
But Cedric knew what that oath ant. Breaking a prince’s word was treason. And yet...
"Zara is crying that she’s not feeling her hands," Cedric said, voice clipped.
Leroy stopped, a flicker of concern cutting through his exhaustion. "Not feeling?" he repeated.
"She’s lost sensation," Cedric said. "Can’t move her fingers. Both hands."
Leroy’s brows knit. "Both?"
There. A sliver of panic. But it didn’t last. His eyes glazed over again, wandering toward his study door.
Cedric watched him closely. Waited.
"Ask Aldric to summon the royal physician," Leroy said at last. "From the capital. The best. I’ll cover the cost."
And then he turned. Went inside.
The door clicked shut.
Then it opened.
Cedric eagerly looked at him thinking the truth had settled and he wanted to look at Zara. She was the one who left everything and joined Leroy and his army and supported him for three years. He should not abandon her.
"Find out everything and anything that is said about the Swan Divina," Leroy said and closed the door.
The lock slid into place.
And Cedric stood there, jaw clenched, fists trembling, the rage under his skin hot enough to blister.
That was it?
That was all he wanted? Was that all Zara’s worth now?
She, who had burned for him, broken for him, bled in silence while he sought "prophecy" in the arms of another?
What was he even doing in there? Writing letters to the gods? Or perhaps to the Divina?
Zara would never do what that woman did. Would never act like the lowliest prostitute in the red light district. Was that what Leroy’s preferences were?
Cedric swallowed hard.
He had sworn an oath. One, he would not break.
But for the first ti, he wasn’t sure if keeping it made him loyal or just a coward.
-----
The Dowager’s tea chamber sat like a forgotten sanctuary, scented with lavender, rimd in silk screens, the hush of falling petals competing with the silence in the air. But tonight, there was no peace in this garden.
Only performance.
Only power.
Four sat around a lacquered table of Vaelorian ebony, its gleam catching the flickers of candlelight and the sharper gleam of ambition.
Dowager Empress Isabella presided at the head. Draped in her imperial silks, her gaze soft as dusk and sharp as glass. Her tea was untouched, cooling like the tension rippling through the air.
To her right, Grand Duke Arvand spoke first.
"As we all desire stability between our nations," he began, stirring his tea as though he hadn’t rehearsed the line in a dozen mirrors, "there remains one path most... natural. A union between Prince Leroy and Princess Elyse."
He glanced toward Lucia, then the King of Kaltharion who sat gravel-voiced and stone-faced beside her. "She is beloved. Regal. Already a mother. What better queen for Kaltharion?"
Lucia didn’t blink.
The King’s silence was more dangerous than his scowl.
Arvand continued, his voice rich with honeyed gall. "Lorraine, bless her courage, is a complication. Her health. Her past. Her inability to bear children—"
"You speak of her like a broken heirloom," Lucia said, cool as snowlt.
He t her gaze with a patient smile. "I speak only of legacy. Kaltharion needs strength. Continuity. A queen who does not require shielding."
The Dowager lifted a brow but said nothing.
"And my darling Elyse," Arvand added smoothly, "already carries two heirs, young, noble sons. They could be grood to carry the na proudly. And she’s still young to carry more heirs."
It should be easy for the Kaltharion King to accept it since he himself had adopted a son to his family, right?
The King gave a bark of a laugh. "From a dead Dravenholt’s bed? We are not so hungry to crown another man’s bastards."
"Children of royal blood," Arvand corrected mildly.
Lucia placed her cup down. "Kaltharion does not crown widows. Nor won whose wombs already served another dynasty."
A pause.
"Unless," she added delicately, "we were no longer speaking of the heir to the Regis family but only about a prince in exile."
The implication sliced through the air like drawn steel.
Arvand tilted his head. "No one said dethronent."
Now, Hadrian was shocked. He didn’t think the royal family was here to talk about Leroy’s dethronent from his title of crown prince. That couldn’t happen. What will happen to his dearest daughter then?
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