Chapter 165: Old Charade, New Life

Chapter 165: Chapter 165: Old Charade, New Life

Ysoria continued, "That poor girl. No scheming, no guard up, just kind to a fault. She does not even try to defend herself. She simply takes everything upon her shoulders."

She lowered her gaze briefly.

"I misunderstood her earlier and nearly gave her a hard time."

A faint smile touched Cassiel’s lips.

His wife was anything but naive.

But he would not ruin his dear wife’s efforts by saying anything now.

Ysoria was now completely absorbed in her own thoughts.

"Her mother passed away from grief, did she not?"

Cassiel’s expression became solemn.

Ysoria sighed. "Then from now on, she is half mine."

She looked at him with complete certainty.

"I shall make sure she is well taken care of."

Cassiel did not object to his aunt’s one-sided adoption of his wife.

In fact, something inside him eased at the thought.

He knew Elysia would likely be embarrassed by the attention.

But perhaps that was precisely what she needed.

Someone besides him who would look after her without asking for anything in return.

Elysia had always been too accustomed to carrying things alone.

Perhaps having another person willing to fuss over her would do her some good, even if she protested every step of the way.

---

Elsewhere, Elysia knew nothing about the conversation taking place behind the flower wall.

After parting ways with Reeve, she headed back towards the hall to rejoin the banquet.

Her footsteps were steady, but her thoughts were anything but.

She had barely made it halfway down the corridor when a soft, overly sweet voice drifted towards her.

"Your Highness, wait up."

The moment that saccharine voice reached her ears, Elysia felt her skin crawl.

She recognised it at once. Deborah Corvis.

And if Deborah was here, Vaelen could not be far behind.

The pleasant mood Elysia had managed to salvage from the success with the Marchioness, vanished without a trace. Of all the people she might encounter in the palace, those two were the last she wished to see, especially when they were together.

The voices seemed to be coming from the shorter path ahead. Elysia glanced in that direction, then promptly turned down the longer passage without hesitation. A few extra steps were a small price to pay for avoiding an unnecessary encounter.

She had already endured enough unpleasantness for one lifetime. The last thing she wanted was to listen to Deborah’s cloying sweetness or find herself caught in another of Vaelen’s increasingly inexplicable conversations.

Only after putting a considerable distance between herself and the voices did she finally breathe more easily.

Even so, the memory of that sugary tone made her wrinkle her nose.

How did anyone speak like that without feeling embarrassed?

Every word sounded as though it had been dipped in honey, and the effect was almost enough to make her teeth ache.

More importantly, did men genuinely find it appealing?

Elysia’s thoughts drifted automatically to Cassiel.

Would he like that sort of thing, too?

She pictured her husband for a moment, then promptly dismissed the image. Cassiel had never struck her as a man who could be won over by a voice so sweet it bordered on being unbearable.

He was far more likely to look at someone speaking that way with the same impassive expression he wore when listening to tedious reports.

At least, that was what she imagined.

Still, she found herself wondering what sort of things he actually liked.

She knew so little about his preferences, despite being his wife. Perhaps she ought to pay more attention to his habits and thoughts.

The notion occupied her mind for several steps.

Lost in thought, she turned the next corner—and nearly walked straight into someone.

Elysia stopped short.

When she looked up and recognised the man standing before her, her brows drew together.

Vaelen.

Of all the people she might have encountered, why did it have to be him?

She had taken the longer route precisely to avoid this situation. Apparently, the palace had decided to make a mockery of her efforts.

For the briefest instant, something resembling relief flickered across Vaelen’s face. It disappeared so quickly that she might as well have imagined it.

Then his expression settled into its familiar frown, and when he spoke, his voice was deliberately cool.

"What are you doing here?"

Elysia regarded him with an even gaze.

"Her Majesty sent me an invitation. As your aunt, I was expected to attend."

"This is my engagement banquet."

"I am well aware of that. The invitation stated as much."

Vaelen studied her face, as though waiting for her to understand the hidden implication behind his words. When she merely looked back at him, his frown deepened.

"You have nothing else to say?"

Elysia almost asked whether he expected her to recite the guest list. Instead, she offered him a polite smile.

"Congratulations, Your Highness."

Her tone was perfectly courteous. There was no bitterness in it, no wistfulness, not even the faintest trace of regret.

Vaelen’s jaw tightened.

"That’s all?"

Elysia considered the matter seriously for a moment, as though he had asked her a question deserving careful thought.

"Then I hope everything goes well for you. May you have a harmonious marriage, many children, and a large, happy family."

Vaelen nearly choked on his own breath.

A large family?

He was about to become engaged to another woman, and the girl who had clung to him since childhood was standing before him, wishing him a prosperous marriage and plenty of children as though she were offering blessings to a distant acquaintance.

Should she not feel something? Even a little disappointment? A trace of jealousy, perhaps?

He had expected something from her. He was not entirely certain what, but surely she could not be so indifferent to the prospect of him marrying someone else.

Yet Elysia stood before him as composed as ever, apparently quite satisfied with the idea of him building a family with another woman.

He could not understand why her indifference irritated him so much. Nor could he explain why he had been looking for a reaction in the first place.

Before he could press her further, a soft cry came from behind him.

"Ah!"

Elysia turned.

Deborah was sitting on the ground, one hand wrapped around her ankle. Her face had gone pale, and her eyes glistened with tears as she looked up at Vaelen.

"Your Highness, it hurts terribly. Could you please help me up?"

The sweetness in her voice was so excessive that Elysia felt goosebumps rise along her arms.

Still doing that, are you?

Vaelen, meanwhile, had little desire to indulge his fiancée.

For several days now, the approaching engagement and wedding had weighed on him. The closer the ceremony drew, the more unsettled he became, though he could not put a name to the feeling.

Something about the arrangement seemed wrong.

Deborah was meant to stand beside him as Crown Princess, yet the thought did not bring him the satisfaction he had expected. The woman chosen for that position did not seem to fit the place he had imagined for her.

He had been keeping his distance from her for the past few days without fully understanding why.

Even now, his attention remained fixed on Elysia.

She had not so much as frowned at his engagement. She had congratulated him, wished him a happy marriage, and seemed ready to leave without a backward glance.

It was infuriating.

Yet, when Elysia showed no emotion, Vaelen reconsidered.

Perhaps seeing him attend to Deborah would finally draw a reaction from her.

If she was determined to pretend that his engagement meant nothing to her, perhaps he could give her a reason to drop the pretence.

He stepped forward and crouched beside Deborah, his voice softening as he examined her ankle.

"How did you manage that? Does it hurt badly?"

Elysia watched them for a moment.

So that was what Vaelen liked?

A woman who spoke in a honeyed voice, looked at him with tearful eyes, and waited for him to rescue her from the slightest inconvenience?

The thought stirred nothing in her.

If anything, it made her more certain that she had no business lingering here.

Whatever Vaelen and Deborah wished to do with their engagement, their wedding, or the rest of their lives was no concern of hers.

Elysia turned to leave.

"Your Grace!"

Deborah’s voice stopped her.

When Elysia glanced back, Deborah was leaning against Vaelen, looking so frail that one might have thought she would collapse again if he let go of her.

"Could you fetch a physician for me? I’m hurt, and His Highness needs to stay with me. You’re the only one who is free at the moment." She blinked through her tears. "You wouldn’t leave me like this, would you?"

Elysia did not answer. She simply resumed walking.

Deborah’s fingers tightened around Vaelen’s sleeve. Then, as though struck by a sudden thought, she raised her voice just enough for Elysia to hear.

"Are you upset with me, Your Grace? Is it because I’m the one standing beside His Highness now?"

She paused briefly before adding, "Because I took the place that was supposed to be yours?"

Elysia stopped.

For a moment, she stood perfectly still.

Then she slowly turned around.

A faint frown appeared between her brows as memories surfaced—memories of a life Vaelen and Deborah knew nothing about.

In her previous life, after Deborah had entered the Crown Prince’s Wing as a secondary consort, this had been one of her favourite tricks.

Whenever the two women were together, some little mishap would inevitably occur.

Deborah might stumble, burn her hand, or suffer some other minor injury.

Nothing serious enough to require much attention, but always conspicuous enough to draw Vaelen’s notice.

She would then turn to him with tearful eyes and murmur in that same cloying sweet voice.

It wasn’t Her Highness’s fault.

Please don’t blame her.

I’m fine.

And just like that, the blame would inevitably shift.