Chapter 34: Confused Heart

Sylvia’s breath hitched. Kill the Princess? For a moment, the thought struck her like a blade. But then, as the wave of shock ebbed, she realized what Lorraine had truly meant. A vanishing act. A carefully orchestrated end to her identity as Crown Princess of Kaltharion. A way to disappear from Vaeloria with no thread left to pull her back. She had said before that there would be no return. Sylvia exhaled slowly, silently cursing herself. She had let thoughts of him cloud her judgment again. That alone was reason enough to let go. He dulled her senses, made her falter. She swallowed and gave a small nod, her throat too tight to speak. The weight of Lorraine’s loneliness settled on her chest. Could she truly leave her? Abandon the woman who had given her dignity when no one else had? "Your joy is my joy," Sylvia said quietly. And she meant it. If the Princess asked for her hand, she would give her heart. If she asked for her silence, Sylvia would guard it with her life. Lorraine didn’t press the matter again. She simply hoped that when the time came, Sylvia would choose the life she deserved, and not the one she felt she owed. Her thoughts, however, were no longer on Sylvia. They drifted unbidden to the man who ruled her heart in ways she hated to admit. She tried not to ask. She truly did. But the words slipped out anyway. "Um... where did he sleep last night?" She tried to keep her voice light, casual, but it betrayed her. Her eyes gave her away, and so did the faint hope in her expression. Sylvia saw it all—the delicate flicker of vulnerability, the yearning hidden behind practiced grace. "In his own chamber," Sylvia replied evenly. She saw it then... the spark of relief that lit Lorraine’s face like a sunrise breaking over cold hills. She returned to her berries with a soft smile, one that clung to her lips even as she chewed. Sylvia’s jaw tensed. Was that really enough? Shouldn’t a husband’s bare minimum not feel like a miracle? Wasn’t it his duty not to lie in another woman’s bed while his wife lay curled in grief? But Sylvia said nothing. Emma returned shortly after and relayed Sir Aldric’s message. "He said you may send flowers and a condolence letter in your name," she explained. "But unless there is a formal invitation or word, attending the funeral might not be possible." Lorraine gave a slight nod. "Prepare my mourning gown and veil, just in case." The final decision would not be hers, not anymore. Not with her husband back. She had been her own sovereign for years, but the winds were changing. She was no longer the decision-maker of the household. Her husband was back, with a mistress. She walked to her desk and began writing the condolence letter. She hadn’t known Lady Tareth, not truly. But it wounded her nonetheless, hearing how a woman so dearly loved had chosen to leave the world. Even someone like her, someone considered cursed and unlovable, still clung to life with bloodied hands. She had fought tooth and nail for her right to breathe. What did that poor woman lack? Certainly, not love. Her parents gave her plenty. So, why? Lorraine had seen the grief etched across the Viscountess’ face. Why did she decide to hurt the ones who loved her the most by taking her life? Why did she do that, knowing how much she’d be missed? She could only sigh as she folded the letter. In a strange, bitter way, she understood. No, not quite. Even in her darkest moments, she had one ember that kept her from fading. One reason she kept waking up every day. Leroy. Even when it hurt, even when it meant bleeding silently, she had loved him enough to stay alive. Through that love, she had found the desire to live again. Why hadn’t Lady Tareth found a reason to hold on? Selfishness? Her hatred for her husband overcame the love everyone had for her? If so, what was it but selfishness? ---- Cedric wandered through Prince Leroy’s study, taking in the room with curious eyes. The evening breeze slipped through the windows, making the curtains flutter like startled birds. There were two layers. That was unusual for Vaeloria. The outer drape was thick and rich, tied neatly at the sides. But it was the inner layer that caught his eye: white, sheer, and embroidered with delicate roses. Not just any rose. Kaltharion roses. Their national flower. The embroidery shimmered faintly in the waning sunlight, like a secret only the wind could read. The entire room breathed Kaltharion. Every piece of furniture, every thoughtful touch, spoke of his heritage and quiet elegance. Regal, yet personal. It didn’t feel like a war general’s den. He’d been in his tent, and it was nothing like this. Prince Leroy didn’t need much. This... It felt like a personal palace. Cedric didn’t need to guess who was behind it. While the prince had been away, marching across bloodied fields, it was the princess who had built this place, brick by brick, detail by detail. People said all sorts of things about her, but Cedric wasn’t so sure. From what he saw, she had run the estate with sharp grace and a better eye than most seasoned stewards. Sir Al was smart, yes. But Sir Al didn’t care whether the curtains matched the carpets or if the guest tea sets were set in proper order, or if the colors matched the Kaltharion royal family’s coat of arms. There were symbols of bear, the emblem of Kaltharion everywhere. This room, with its meticulous beauty, had the princess’ thoughtfulness written all over it. Cedric didn’t know much about the princess. Leroy never talked about her. But Cedric had a feeling the prince liked her far more than he ever let on. Maybe more than he even realized. Which made it all the more surprising that he’d begun to doubt her, especially over something as absurd as a suspicion involving Sir Al. Those were the two people he held in the highest regard. Cedric had spent five years beside Leroy, day and night, and never once had he seen him like this. Since returning, the prince looked distant, like his mind hadn’t come home with his body. He was quieter, less sure, as if something, or someone, was missing. "Did you find out who that man on the roof was?" Leroy’s voice sliced through the silence, dragging Cedric out of his thoughts.