Chapter 892 - 892: The Ghost of the past

"Maybe five times."

The Queen Mother chuckled.

"Hmm. Five times. That is a lot, is it not?"

There was no humor in the sound. She had found an old wound and was twisting the old knife mercilessly. Her eyes were locked intently on him as if still gauging how much of the old duke still remained hidden inside.

"Five times you found your way to me," she continued. "You spoke as if the world beyond that door could be ignored." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And now you sit there as if those nights belonged to someone else."

The Duke's jaw tightened. "They do belong to someone else. To a younger fool who had not yet learned what his name was worth."

"Or what mine was worth," she replied.

Silence stretched between them again.

Then the Queen Mother leaned forward a little, and when she spoke next, the lightness was gone.

"I want to experience that again."

The Duke looked up sharply.

For a second he seemed unable to process the words. Shock broke through the controlled mask he wore so well in public.

He had never looked so "human" before.

"You cannot be serious."

"I am rarely anything else when it matters," the Queen Mother said.

"I cannot."

The refusal came fast, almost too fast, as if leaving even a pause might create room for temptation or misunderstanding.

Her expression hardened at once.

"You cannot?" she repeated. "What a convenient word. It was not in your vocabulary when the risk belonged only to me."

"That was decades ago," the Duke said. "I have a wife, children... a house that stands on more than memory."

"And I had a husband," she answered coldly. "A crown. A court full of eyes. None of that stopped you then."

"I was reckless."

"You were hungry," she said. "Do not dress it up now as moral awakening. You wanted me. You pursued me. You took what you wanted while the old king still lived, and you did it with both eyes open."

The Duke's face had gone pale, but he did not look away.

"And for that reason alone, it can never happen again."

The Queen Mother's expression was pure anger now.

"So this is the man you became. One who can demand loyalty from a duchy, trade soldiers with a king, and still lack the spine to face the one woman who remembers exactly what he was before all this respectability."

"This is not about spine."

"It is always about spine," she said. "Or fear."

Julian remained completely still outside, trying his best to even breathe as slow as he could.

**exhale**

The Duke drew a slow breath. "If anyone overheard even a fraction of this, Astran would not survive the scandal. My family would not survive it. You know that."

"I know many things," the Queen Mother replied. "Including how quickly men reinvent themselves once the danger of being caught becomes more real than the thrill of being wanted."

"I will not betray Olivia."

At that, her eyes flashed dangerously.

"There it is. The loyal husband's line. Spoken with such dignity, as if loyalty had always been your native language."

Her hands clenched.

"Do you think I came here for nostalgia? Do you think I came here to hear you speak like a priest?"

"I cannot give you what you are asking," the Duke said again, firmer now.

The Queen Mother stared at him for a long moment.

"You refuse me."

"Yes."

The Queen Mother's patience thinned at once.

What remained was pure anger messed with part guilt, part rage.

"Then I'll fuck your boy instead."

The words landed like a thunderstorm capable of shaking an entire earth.

The Duke's head snapped up. "What did you say?"

"Yes," she continued, her voice low and venomous. "Your precious Kraven. If the father has grown too holy to remember how he used to beg for a forbidden bed, then perhaps the son will not be so tedious."

"You will not touch him."

The Queen Mother laughed.

"Why not? You made the pattern, Ranchy. You taught me what Astran men look like when they want something they should not have. He watched me at the table. Do not pretend you did not notice. That boy may speak politely, but his stare was not polite. If you refuse me, I see no reason to leave empty-handed."

The Duke rose halfway from his chair before the title of the woman forced him still. His face had gone from pale to rigid.

"He is my son."

"And I was the queen," she shot back. "That did not stop you."

"This is different."

"No, it is not."

The Queen Mother chuckled, the sound cold and cruel.

"Do you think your son's story has not reached my ears?"

The Duke's eyes widened.

For a moment he looked less like the ruler of Astran and more like a man who had just heard the floor crack under his feet. The lamp light caught the sudden tension in his face.

Whatever defenses he had prepared, seemed to fade under her words.

The Queen Mother continued.

"He was lusting after his own mother and sister. That is not a rumor confined to kitchen and servants. It traveled farther than you hoped. Far enough to reach me." Her gaze did not waver. "So tell me, Ranchy. What makes you think he would resist me?"

The Duke stood up so quickly that the chair scraped hard against the floor.

**screech**

"How… how do you know?"

The Queen Mother regarded him with something close to pity, though there was no softness in it.

"I am the Queen Mother."

"..."

"Did you truly believe that a scandal of that nature could remain buried inside one duchy? You may control your household's tongues better than most, but no house is airtight."

The Duke's hands trembled once before he forced them to still at his sides.

"Those were the lies of enemies."

"Like I would believe that," she said.

She sounded very certain of herself.