CHAPTER 100: WHAT HE WANTED

The Swan Divina was spoken of in hushed, reverent tones, as a saint in silk, gliding through her ivory tower, blessings on her lips and visions in her eyes. She was the kind who could wipe away tears with a single word, not cut a man down with one. While Lazira ruled with fear, the Divina reigned with divinity.

In the red-light district, the whispers took on a stranger shape. They said the Divina and Lazira were sisters who despised each other, two women bound by blood but split by the heavens and hells they ruled. Lazira never climbed the tower; the Divina never descended from it. And yet the workers below adored the woman in white, for she sent aid when it was most needed by providing skilled physicians, rare medicines, and quiet coin in desperate hands.

It was often murmured that Lazira’s hatred ran deep because the Divina made her look cruel by contrast. And still, Lazira allowed her to exist, allowed her to operate on a loose leash, fueling rumors of some unspoken pact. Although the Divina was loved, the fear induced by Lazira too was needed to keep order in that hellhole. And everyone there knew that. Like two faces of the same coin, they needed to exist side by side.

Some claimed their mother had once walked the district’s lantern-lit streets, that both women had been born among its shadows, which was why they knew every secret that ever passed through it.

Everyone knew them. Everyone respected them differently.

Everything about the Divina was light, purity... the very opposite of Lazira’s venom and velvet shadows.

And because of that, Leroy had never once considered they could be the same person. He knew his wife. She was capable of darkness, yes. But mercy? Not without a price.

Until... he met her.

When Cedric told him everything the Divina had done for him, his first instinct whispered that it could be his wife. Who else would go this far to protect him? Without her intervention, he would be dead, or worse, condemned as a traitor.

His heart insisted it was her. His mind refused to believe it. What she did pointed to his wife, but who she was made it impossible.

The thought unsettled him. If it wasn’t her, then who else would dare weave themselves so deeply into his fate? He had to see the Divina for himself. If she truly wasn’t Lorraine, he would demand to know why his wife allowed another woman to stand between them. There was nothing he despised more than that.

She allowed the meeting.

At first glance, through the dim light of that shadowed platform, her silhouette seemed the same height as Lorraine’s. But the resemblance ended there. His wife, for all her fire and bite, could never be accused of grace. The woman before him moved like silk in water, every gesture deliberate, every tilt of her head a painting brought to life.

And then she did the unthinkable. She called his wife "useless" to his face.

He caught her, burning in fury.

He never touched other women; the thought disgusted him. They all looked unclean beside Lorraine, their perfumes cloying, their beauty false. But this woman... there was a spark in her that bypassed his disdain entirely.

And then her veil slipped.

Over the mingled scents in that room, he caught the faint, unmistakable perfume of vyrnshade blossom, hers, always his wife’s, clinging to her lips.

Shock hit him first. Then it turned to fury. How dare she call herself useless?

She leaned closer, offering herself as that "someone" in place of his wife, testing him. He refused to take her on the cold floor of that shadowed tower like an animal, no matter how she provoked. But when his fingers slid through her hair, the texture was hers. When he kissed her, the taste was hers.

And in the next breath, he lost himself.

He unleashed everything he’d been holding back, claiming her as though he could pull the truth from her body if not her lips. He’d expected that afterward she would speak, finally, confess the deception.

She didn’t.

In their second meeting—after she’d spent hours whispering with that crooked prince—she still dared to lie to him. Even when he told her plainly he could see the love bites he’d left on her skin, she clung to the pretense that he couldn’t see her face.

Was she a fool? Or was she playing him? He couldn’t read her. Couldn’t pry open the locked chest of her heart.

She still hadn’t told him what she wanted. Still hadn’t admitted she could hear every word he said, speak every thought she swallowed.

He understood her father had crushed the trust out of her, ground it to dust, but hadn’t he earned it by now?

He could never doubt her love; it blazed in the way she smiled at him as if he were her whole world. In the way her gaze lingered on his face, his hands, as if memorizing every line. In the way she would tear down kingdoms to keep him safe.

So why, in the name of every god he’d stopped believing in, wouldn’t she trust him? What more could he give? What more could he burn?

She could give him everything—her time, her body, her fierce, unwavering protection—and still cling to him like a mistress in the shadows. She’d even told him, with that maddening calm, that she was happy to be his mistress. And yet... she couldn’t stand beside him as his wife and speak the truth.

Was she thinking him useless? Was her love fading? Was she disappointed in him?

***

Across the table, Aldric noticed Leroy staring off as if he’d left the room entirely. He "accidentally" toppled the stack of books onto the table to snap him out of it.

Leroy blinked, dragged back from his reverie. "Has she ever talked to you?"

It was not idle curiosity, he needed to know if she avoided only him.

Aldric shook his head. "Never heard her voice. But I know she talks. And hears."

"Hmm..." Leroy’s hum carried a flicker of satisfaction.

Aldric allowed himself a small glow of pride for getting the answer right. Then, cautiously: "Why are you avoiding her? The servants are talking. And if... if she ends up pregnant—" He left the rest unsaid. Leroy was smart enough to fill in the gap.

"Oh, she stole my emerald pin. She’s safe." Leroy’s mouth curved into a rare, almost boyish smile. He loved how calculating his wife was.

Aldric sighed. "I’m concerned about others." Rumors spread like wildfire in this house. "That kiss in front of everyone..."

Aldric chuckled. He’d thought Leroy was simply teasing the princess for acting up, but now he saw the deeper move. One public kiss, and no one would dare question the paternity of her child, should she be with one.

Leroy turned toward the window, his gaze distant again.

He didn’t want others inventing scandals about her... but, he wanted her to come to him... like a stubborn little porcupine with her quills down, tail tucked, and the truth trembling on her lips.