Chapter 35: A Simple Solution?!

The sharpness in Leroy’s tone made Cedric stand straighter. "I followed the man you pointed out. He said he’d investigate further. But if you can give me more details like his height, eye color, anything at all, it would help." He cannot find a hooded figure without any description. Leroy didn’t respond right away. His gaze had drifted to the open window again, and Cedric could almost see the thoughts swirling behind those green eyes. "Aldric would’ve..." Leroy’s words trailed off. Cedric flinched. That stung. So, Sir Al would have done a better job? Then why didn’t he ask Sir Al? Cedric’s young blood boiled, but he didn’t let it show. "I’ll do my best, Your Highness," he said with a bow. Could it be that the prince is not trusting Sir Aldric anymore? "And..." Leroy began again, but this time he waved his hand and left it unfinished. Cedric blinked. This wasn’t the man who had barked orders in the snowstorm or led a cavalry charge without blinking. Here, in this place, he seemed hesitant. Off-balance. Like a man trying to catch something that kept slipping through his fingers. Following his gaze, Cedric turned to the garden. There, among the doves and flowers, was Emma. She was feeding the birds, soft and still. Her hair shimmered in the light, and the years had been kind. No, more than kind. She looked... entirely different. Stunning, really. Like someone had painted over the awkward, stubborn girl he once knew and left behind a goddess with attitude. Not that it mattered. She hadn’t spoken a word to him since his return. Not even a glare. Just complete dismissal. Cedric scowled. Who did she think she was? "Isn’t she your betrothed?" Leroy asked, casual as ever. Cedric spun around like he’d been slapped with a fish. "Betrothed? No! Absolutely not!" He threw up his hands. "Betrothed? I’m not betrothed, not to her! Not to anyone! Who told you that? That ridiculous girl is just a friend. A childhood friend. That’s all." Leroy didn’t comment, only raised a brow. "I thought you wanted to come back and marry her," he said, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. Cedric’s eyes lit up. "You actually listened to me?" He remembered the early days, when he was just a nervous squire rambling endlessly to earn the prince’s approval. He’d talked so much he was sure Leroy had tuned him out entirely. "She doesn’t talk to me anymore," Cedric muttered, quieter now. "Used to be we were thick as thieves. Now she acts like she doesn’t even know me. Walks around like she’s... too pretty to be bothered." Which, he admitted grudgingly, she kind of was. Cedric squared his shoulders. "I should talk to her. I’ll ask her what her problem is." That seemed simple enough. Leroy looked at him with a small smile, one of those unreadable ones. It was the same look he had when Cedric had once saved an entire battalion using his family’s snow barrier trick. Pride, mixed with amusement, and something else Cedric could never quite name. "You’re twenty... getting old," Leroy said with a sigh. "You’ll need to marry someone. Might as well be her." "What?" Cedric blanched. "No. Absolutely not. I’d rather track down that cloaked figure!" He stormed out with a flustered frown, boots clicking on the polished floor. Leroy stayed still for a moment, then looked back at the window. Emma had turned her head slightly, just enough that her profile caught the light. There was something wistful in her expression. Or maybe Leroy was imagining it. He leaned back in his chair and exhaled. "Talk to her, huh..." he murmured. Then, under his breath, almost too quiet to hear, "What if she doesn’t want to?" Cedric said it so easily. But was it truly that easy? His eyes landed on the Vyrnshade blossom tree in the distance. "I miss you... little mouseling..." he murmured. A veil of tears fell in his eyes. He closed his eyes, leaning on the back of his chair. His lips curved, remembering that girl he met under the shrub years ago. His fingers trembled remembering the feeling of her little frame in his fingers, the texture of her hair, and the conviction of her voice when she said those touching words. Words he had never heard from anyone else. A single drop of tear rolled from the corner of his eye. "I’m alive... barely. Do you enjoy living? Are you living for me, or have you given up?" ----- Somewhere in the mansion’s garden... Emma knew he was following her. She could hear his boots crunching over the gravel, clumsy and unstealthy like always. Five years in the battlefield still hadn’t taught him how to be covert. But she didn’t look back. If he wanted to talk, he’d have to keep up. Judging by the way she was marching, he’d be lucky not to trip over her shadow. "Emma!" came the unfamiliar voice, hardened by age, all breathless and urgent. She rolled her eyes. "I’m busy." "You’re feeding a dove," Cedric scoffed. Why did she act as if that was the most important thing now? "I’m feeding a very important dove," Emma quipped. How much more frank could she be? She didn’t want to talk to him. He jogged around her and planted himself in her path. Emma skidded to a stop, nearly colliding with his chest. He smelled like sun and steel, like he always did, and she hated that it still made her stomach flutter. "Move," she snapped, hugging the bag of birdseed like it was a shield. "Not until you talk to me." "I am talking. Now, goodbye." She tried to step around him, but he sidestepped too. "You’re avoiding me," Cedric said, exasperated. Emma gave him a look. "Wow, you’re observant. Did you figure that out before or after you followed me across the entire garden like a lost puppy?" Cedric winced. "You’ve been ignoring me since I got back." "Oh no," she said, widening her eyes in mock horror. "Did the world not revolve around you for once? Tragic." "Em..." he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "We used to talk. You used to run to me." "Well," she said sweetly, "maybe I finally learned how to walk the other way." Cedric looked genuinely stunned, like someone had slapped him with a rolled-up parchment. Emma took advantage of the silence and tried to leave again. He caught her wrist gently. "Emma, what happened?" His voice was softer now. Less prince’s squire, more boy-next-door. And that was dangerous. Emma turned her face away, jaw clenched. "You happened." "What?" She laughed bitterly. "Nothing. Just forget it." "No. You’re angry with me. I want to fix it." "There’s nothing to fix," she snapped, yanking her hand free. "You’re back, everyone is thrilled, the birds are fed, the sun is shining, and Lady Zara looks like she stepped out of a painting. Everything is perfect." He blinked. "Zara?"