Chapter 144: A Stranger’s Judgement

Chapter 144: Chapter 144: A Stranger’s Judgement

Vaelen’s eyes darkened.

Though his conviction had begun to waver, he still frowned.

"Even so, I never begged you to save me..."

"No, you did not."

Elysia’s voice remained calm.

"No one wished for that accident. Pushing you aside was instinct. I never expected anything in return."

She met his gaze without flinching.

"If I truly sought recompense, then why, at the betrothal banquet, did I say I wished to marry the Duke of Draevenor rather than you?"

Vaelen stared at her.

The colour drained from his face.

For a moment, he could find no reply.

The memory she had described slowly collided with his own.

He remembered complaining about the palace.

He remembered begging to leave.

He remembered Elysia refusing him more than once.

Yet he had never remembered it quite this way.

In his mind, she had always been the one who had dragged him out.

The one who had insisted.

The one who had chosen to place herself between him and danger.

But if what she said was true...

Then perhaps the story he had carried in his heart all these years had never been complete.

Elysia continued,

"I truly do not understand why you followed me here to say this."

There was only confusion in her expression now.

"It happened so long ago. What purpose is there in dwelling upon it? You must find it tiresome."

She paused.

"I certainly do."

There was no bitterness in her voice.

Somehow, that made her words all the harder to bear.

Vaelen’s lips parted.

He wanted to speak.

Anything would have been better than this silence.

Yet not a single word came.

Elysia did not wait for him.

"The Duke has already engaged a physician specifically to treat my old injuries. You should attend to your own affairs. Your wedding is approaching."

She glanced at him.

"The sixteenth of November. Deborah’s choice."

A faint smile touched her lips.

"It should prove an auspicious day."

With that, Elysia stepped around him and continued on her way.

This time, Vaelen did not follow.

He remained where he was, standing alone in the rain as he watched her retreating figure disappear beneath the umbrella.

His lips moved faintly.

"Do you not regret it?"

The words were little more than a murmur.

But beneath the curtain of rain, Elysia did not hear him.

She was already eager to return to Draevenor Manor.

More than anything, she wanted to know whether Cassiel had returned.

Neither Elysia nor Vaelen noticed the small group standing some distance away, watching through the downpour.

The woman at the forefront wore an elegant travelling cloak over rich robes. Though she had only just arrived in Caelvyr, there was nothing uncertain in her bearing.

Her features were cool and refined, her gaze sharp beneath slightly lowered brows.

She watched Elysia’s retreating figure until it disappeared beneath the covered walkway.

Then she asked quietly,

"That is the Duchess of Draevenor?"

The senior maid holding an umbrella over her bowed her head.

"Yes, my lady."

The Marchioness did not answer at once.

Her gaze remained fixed upon the place where Elysia had vanished.

After a moment, she looked towards the young man still standing in the rain.

Vaelen.

His face was pale, his expression difficult to read. Yet even from this distance, his disappointment was plain.

The Marchioness’s eyes narrowed.

Shortly before leaving for Caelvyr, she had received a letter concerning this very matter.

An anonymous letter.

Under ordinary circumstances, she would have cast such a thing into the fire without a second thought. Anonymous accusations were often nothing more than malice dressed in ink.

Yet the contents had given her pause.

The writer claimed that the Duchess of Draevenor remained entangled with the Crown Prince despite her marriage to the Duke.

There had been other accusations as well.

That the Duchess still occupied a place in the Crown Prince’s heart.

That she had interfered with his marriage.

That she had even prevented another suitable young woman from entering the Crown Prince’s household, going so far as to ruin the woman’s prospects of making a respectable match elsewhere.

The letter had contained enough detail to make the accusations sound convincing.

But that did not make them true.

The Marchioness of Gildemont had lived long enough to know how easily malicious words could be dressed as fact.

She had neither believed the letter nor dismissed it outright.

She would judge the matter for herself.

And now, before she had even had the opportunity to make enquiries, she had witnessed this scene.

A married woman standing with another man in the rain.

The man had followed after her.

And the expression upon his face...

The Marchioness’s fingers tightened slightly around the edge of her cloak.

She knew that expression.

She had seen it many years ago.

On her sister, Sereia.

Her elder sister had once become one of the many consorts of the King of Aveanlor.

The Marchioness had been young then.

Sereia had been beautiful, intelligent, and cherished by her family. Yet her marriage had never been as simple as it appeared from the outside.

The King had fulfilled his duty.

He had given Sereia the position she deserved, the respect befitting a royal consort, and every comfort his wealth and status could provide.

But there had always been another woman in the story.

A woman who had never belonged to his harem.

An old attachment.

A lingering affection that had occupied a corner of the King’s heart long before Sereia entered his life.

Perhaps he had never intended Sereia to know.

Perhaps Sereia had simply been too perceptive.

For years, she had watched her husband carry feelings for another woman.

The Marchioness still remembered those quiet nights when she would find her sister sitting beside the window long after everyone else had retired.

And whenever someone entered the room, Sereia would smile as though she had not been lost in thought at all.

She had always insisted that everything was fine.

The Marchioness had hated those words.

Not because Sereia lacked rank.

Not because she lacked affection or comfort.

But because her sister deserved to be someone’s first choice.

Someone’s only choice.

She had never forgotten that helplessness.

Nor had she forgotten the way Sereia had poured all her love into her sons.

By the grace of God, the boys had grown into capable and intelligent men, just as their mother had been.

After Sereia’s passing, the Marchioness had made a promise to herself.

She would look after her sister’s sons.

They were grown now and no longer needed anyone to protect them as children.

But that did not mean she would stand by and watch one of her nephews be deceived or made a fool of by his new wife.

Perhaps that was why the anonymous letter had affected her more than it ought to have.

She did not know Elysia.

She had no right to condemn the woman based upon a single scene.

Yet neither could she disregard what she had just witnessed.

"My lady?"

The maid’s cautious voice drew her from her thoughts.

The Marchioness finally withdrew her gaze.

"Let us go."

"Yes, my lady."

She took one last look towards the place where Vaelen remained standing.

"First, we shall pay our respects to His Majesty."

She turned towards the palace.

"Afterwards, I wish to visit Draevenor Manor."

The maid hesitated.

"To see the Duchess?"

"Yes."

The Marchioness’s voice remained quiet.

"I would sooner ascertain the truth myself than place my faith in an anonymous letter."

She paused.

"And my sister-in-law may know more of the circumstances than we do. I shall hear what she has to say as well."

The maid lowered her head.

"As you command, my lady."

---

By the time Elysia returned to Draevenor Manor, the rain had softened into a steady drizzle.

She stepped inside and was immediately enveloped by the warmth of the manor.

A servant removed her damp cloak, and she accepted a towel to dry the ends of her hair.

She had barely taken a few steps when familiar voices drifted from the sitting room.

Elysia glanced over.

Miriam and Clara were seated together at a table, chatting as they worked.

A large basket of freshly harvested lily pods sat before them.

One woman extracted the seeds while the other carefully used a small tool to remove the bitter cores.

A white porcelain plate already held a considerable pile of prepared lily seeds.

Elysia’s eyes brightened.

She walked over.

"What are you two doing with these?"

Miriam looked up with a smile.

"The Duke ordered it."

Clara added,

"Merlinspire Manor sent fresh lily pods. His Grace said you enjoy them. He is occupied and cannot peel them himself, so he asked us to prepare them for you."

A warm feeling spread through Elysia’s chest.

Cassiel had remembered something as small as this.

Even while occupied with his own affairs, he had still thought of what she liked to eat.

She picked up one of the seeds and tasted it.

Its fresh sweetness spread across her tongue.

After swallowing, she smiled.

"There are plenty. Both of you should have some."

She glanced at the plate.

"I could never finish all of these myself."

Clara immediately shook her head.

"His Grace ordered them for you, Your Grace. I would not dare."

Miriam nodded.

"Nor would I."

Elysia felt a little embarrassed.

She looked at the growing pile of lily seeds and considered it for a moment.

"Then perhaps I shall make some lily seed soup later."

Miriam’s eyes lit up.

"Lily seed soup!"

Clara glanced at her.

Miriam immediately became animated.

"The lily seed soup Her Grace made is delicious!"

Elysia laughed softly.

"You have only had it once."

"And I still remember it!"

Elysia could not help smiling.

The comfortable atmosphere made the tension she had felt at the palace seem distant.

For a moment, she thought only of Cassiel.

She wondered whether he had returned yet.

Perhaps he was already in his study.

Perhaps, once she had changed, she could go and see him.

"Your Grace."

The grave voice drew her attention.

Elysia turned.

Bertha stood nearby, her expression unusually solemn.

Elysia’s smile faded.

Had something happened again?

"What is it?"

Bertha sighed.

"The Marchioness of Gildemont has arrived in Caelvyr and is on her way here."

Elysia blinked.

"The Marchioness?"

"Yes."

"Who is that?"

"The younger sister of Dowager Queen Sereia."

Bertha continued, "She married the Marquess of Gildemont in Elwoodmere."

Understanding dawned upon Elysia.

The Marchioness of Gildemont was the aunt of both the current King and Cassiel.

Her eyes widened slightly.

An aunt she had never met had suddenly arrived in the capital.

And she was coming here.

Without hesitation, Elysia moved towards the door.

"Where is Aunt now? We should prepare to receive her properly."

She stopped halfway through her step.

"Does the chef know what sort of pastries she favours?"

Bertha stared at her.

"Your Grace, please wait."

She hurriedly stopped Elysia.

"The Marchioness arrived in Caelvyr but did not come here directly."

Elysia looked at her.

Bertha continued, "She went to the palace first and... there is something else as well..."

Bertha hesitated.

"As per the messenger, the Marchioness appeared... displeased when she left the palace."

Elysia’s expression changed.

"Displeased?"

Bertha nodded carefully.

"I do not know the reason. But she seemed to have witnessed something that displeased her."

Elysia fell silent.

A faint uneasiness settled in her chest.

Her thoughts returned to the palace.

The rain.

Vaelen following her.

Their conversation.

The Marchioness had arrived in Caelvyr today.

If she had gone to the palace first...

Elysia’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Had she seen them?

Her fingers curled.

She had done nothing wrong.

She had merely told Vaelen what she should have told him long ago.

Yet Elysia knew better than most how easily an innocent scene could be twisted into something else.

Especially when someone already had reason to believe the worst.

And in her case, her past affection with Vaelen was already well known.

She glanced towards the windows.

Rainwater still traced thin lines down the glass.

For some reason, the warmth she had felt moments ago began to fade.

"Has Cassiel returned?"

Bertha shook her head.

Elysia drew a slow breath.

Then her gaze shifted towards the staircase.

For the first time that evening, she found herself wishing he were already home.

Not because she feared the Marchioness.

But because she had the uneasy feeling that, before the two of them had even met, someone had already formed an opinion of her.

And changing it might prove far more difficult than she would have liked.

Outside, the rain continued to fall.

And somewhere within Caelvyr, the Marchioness of Gildemont was already on her way to Draevenor Manor.