Chapter 30: Seeds of Doubt

"That is for the best, then. Let sleeping dogs lie," Aldric murmured and made to walk away. But Leroy stepped into his path, blocking him. It was not like Aldric to speak in riddles. And certainly not like him to retreat. "What is it?" Leroy asked, voice low. "You’re hiding something." Aldric let out a long sigh, casting a quick glance around the corridor. Only Cedric stood behind the prince. No servants, no shadows. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a whisper. "They call her the Swan Divina. An oracle. A celestial maiden dressed in the brightest white. Her divinations have caught the fascination of the noble ladies in the capital. They speak of her in hushed tones and claim her visions never fail." Leroy raised an eyebrow. "And the feather?" "A token," Aldric replied. "That is how she chooses who is worthy of an audience. A white feather, wrapped in silk. Her message is silent but clear. Even chests of gold cannot sway her. She comes only when she wills it." Cedric scoffed. "An oracle? And folk believe such nonsense? Seems a charlatan needs only a good tailor and a clever tongue to earn coin these days." "You are still green behind the ears," Aldric said sharply, his gaze narrowing at Cedric. "You’ve yet to understand how faith, true or blind, can rule kingdoms." But Leroy wasn’t listening to Cedric. He had caught something else entirely. "How often does this oracle meet with that porcupine of mine?" His voice was mild, but his eyes were not. Aldric blinked. "Porcupine?" Leroy merely stared. "The Princess, then," Aldric corrected himself. From a pesky rat to a pricky porcupine? What does he think of his wife? Leroy nodded as a matter of fact. Who else would he ask about? Were the changes he witnessed in her a result of the "swan" or something deeper? Alderic hummed and continued, "No, she has never met the Swan Divina. Not once. She is not welcome among the aristocrats. And the commoners and rich merchants avoid her, for they still consider her a noble. She is trapped between the two, belonging to neither." Aldric’s voice grew quiet, sorrow edging his words. "Even the oracle, known for meeting with commoners and highborn alike, never once sought her out." Leroy’s jaw tightened. "You pity her." "I do," Aldric said without hesitation. He had no shame in that. "She is mocked behind fans and veils. They call her the Silent Crown. They whisper that she is cursed. She~" "You must have heard other rumors as well," Leroy interrupted, his tone colder now. "Involving you two." The question was veiled but heavy. His gaze fixed on Aldric with quiet intensity. Cedric took a subtle step back. The tension was growing, a blade poised on the verge of being drawn. Aldric did not shrink from it. He blinked, shocked for a moment. But then he caught himself and let out a bitter laugh, one without humor. Damn that witch Elyse...and damn Leroy, who believes her. "I’ve heard every filthy word." Leroy’s expression remained unreadable, but Cedric caught the slight twitch in his gloved hand. "I shielded her once," Aldric continued, voice harder now. "Just once. That goat-faced witch began whispering that we were lovers. I ought to have silenced her tongue for good. It should have been her blood on the floor, not whispers in the air." He clenched his fists. "But the princess... she believed she had to call herself cursed, just to stop the mockery. She smeared dirt on her skin, for heaven’s sake. She tried to become what they feared, to protect herself. She had to do it..." A flicker of shame passed through Leroy’s features, but he masked it with silence. Aldric’s next words struck like iron. "I ought to kill you, you dung-tongued churl." Cedric froze. The steward’s hand hovered near the hilt of his dagger. For a moment, Cedric feared he would draw it. "But if I did," Aldric continued, "I would have to tell her why. I’d have to tell her how foul your mind has become. How you let the poison in." His hand fell away from his dagger. "She does not need to know that her husband suspects every man near her. She has suffered enough." Leroy let out a slow breath. There was a strange relief in it, but his eyes still held their storm. "I will always stand on her side," Aldric said. "Do with that what you will." He turned on his heel. "You know nothing about her," Leroy said behind him, voice low and sharp like a blade being drawn. Aldric did not stop. He merely snorted and walked on. But just as he reached the stairwell, he halted. In the shadows, a figure shifted. A woman. Sylvia. Aldric recognized her even in the dark. Her frame, the way she carried herself... he could have picked her out in a crowd of a thousand. And she had heard everything. Panic flickered in his chest. Lorraine didn’t need this burden. He caught up to Sylvia and pressed her back against the stone wall, one hand firm on her arm. "She doesn’t need to know," he said. Sylvia turned her face to the side, eyes filled with disdain. "Why not? I’ve seen what happens once suspicion takes root in a man’s heart. You cannot pull out that weed." Her voice cracked slightly, her past bleeding through. Aldric released her, his grip loosening. "Leroy is not that kind of man." She looked at him, long and hard. "Sure," she said softly. Then she slipped away from him, vanishing into the corridors with a finality that made his heart sink. She would tell Lorraine. Of course she would. And maybe she should. Aldric stared after her, fists clenched at his sides. He let out a long breath. ----- Back in his quarters, Leroy stood before the tall windows, the moonlight slanting across the cold floor. "Find out everything about that oracle," he said to Cedric. "Where she came from. Who she has seen. What she has said. Everything." Cedric nodded, but his gaze wandered down the corridor Aldric had disappeared into. He had never seen a man speak to a prince like that and live. Still, Aldric had spoken not just with courage, but conviction. Cedric turned to Leroy. "What do you plan to do with him, Your Highness?" Leroy did not answer at once. His eyes were on the moon, and yet far beyond it. In his mind echoed Aldric’s words. She had to rub dirt on her skin... He clenched his jaw. What had she endured while he was away? Why did it anger him so much to hear another man speak of it with such care? And... Did she... really mean to kill herself that night? If so... had he not changed anything? He turned from the window, his expression unreadable. "Whatever needs to be done," he said at last. His voice was calm. But Cedric felt the unease in his bones. A storm was gathering. And somewhere, a swan feather fluttered, waiting to decide whom the storm would spare.