CHAPTER 55: SHOULD SHE TELL HIM WHO SHE IS?

Gaston burst into laughter, incredulous. "Her? Careful?" He nearly doubled over. "Lucia, you’re brilliant, but that might be your first bad read."

He scoffed. "The woman’s a deaf, barren lump. A glorified ornament. Even her father doesn’t speak of her as if she exists. Yes, she’s... shapely... turned glamorous over the years. I’ll give her that... " He cleared his throat as his sister glared at him. "But she’s barely a person."

Lucia said nothing.

Because she had seen it.

Not just in Lorraine’s eyes, but in the moment when Leroy was shouted down, humiliated like a stray dog in front of her.

And that woman... she didn’t shrink. She didn’t whimper or cower or run. That was not how an imbecile nobody would act. She looked at Leroy with something dangerous. Deliberate.

Lucia had pitied her at first. The way she sat so quietly, like broken porcelain dressed in silk. Emotionless. Forgettable.

But when Leroy shouted, when he tried to drive her away, Lorraine didn’t cry. She didn’t plead.

She baited him.

Lucia was sure of it now. That woman had done it on purpose. She’d escalated everything, pressed the right buttons, and had drawn blood without lifting a hand.

And he responded.

Leroy, the ever-kneeling fool, had dared raise a hand, not against their father, not yet, but against the man beside him. A warning shot. And it had been for her

.

Lucia’s gut turned.

That wasn’t loyalty or a desire to be diplomatic. That was something worse. Something dangerous.

"I wouldn’t underestimate her," she said at last, voice low.

Gaston rolled his eyes. "Please. That mouse?"

"No," Lucia said. "A snake."

She walked on, but her steps slowed as she said what had been lurking in the back of her mind.

"We need to get rid of her."

Gaston shrugged. "Wouldn’t be hard. He’s never gone against us before. You said it yourself—he’s powerless."

Lucia didn’t answer immediately. Her hand reached up, and her fingers trailed over the brooch at her throat. Her lips pressed together.

She should have felt victorious tonight. But she didn’t. Instead, a faint, sharp discomfort nestled in her chest—a premonition she didn’t know how to name.

Because for the first time, Leroy hadn’t stayed down. And Lucia wasn’t sure if that woman beside him had pulled him up... or pushed him past the point of no return.

She’d get the definite answers once Leroy was asked to leave that woman. She hoped her brother listened to her.

"I truly wish for his best..." she muttered under her breath. As much as she wanted to tease him and had fun seeing her father punish him, she wanted him around. It would be a loss if she lost her plaything.

-----

When Lorraine and Leroy arrived at the mansion, Emma rushed forward in a panic, gasping when she saw Lorraine’s blood-caked temple.

"Oh, Your Highness—your face—!"

Leroy stopped on the threshold and stared.

Lorraine turned slightly toward him, wondering. Would he say something now? Scold her again?

But he said nothing. He just... turned away, shoulders stiff, and walked off down the corridor, leaving silence in his wake.

Lorraine didn’t watch him go. She turned toward her chambers.

There, she ordered a warm bath. Not gently. She needed it. She deserved it.

As she soaked in the steaming water, Sylvia entered quietly and said, "The arrival of the Kaltharion royalty wasn’t announced. Not even the Grand Duke was told. They are expected in two days."

Lorraine sank deeper into the bath, letting the warmth dull her frayed nerves. Her spies had gotten the news correctly. "So, no one knows why they are here...?"

Thinking about that family, it made sense now why Leroy never brought her with him when he visited his family. For so long, she’d thought he was ashamed of her. A mute, deaf wife with no influence to offer him.

Maybe she hadn’t been entirely wrong. But maybe that wasn’t the whole story, either.

She could see it now. He wasn’t just hiding her. He was hiding himself. From a family that treated him like a walking disgrace, like a servant who wore a prince’s name.

And still, he protected them. He protected her.

He protected everyone but himself.

Her heart hurt thinking about that.

Had he married Elyse, his precious first love, everything would have been easier. With the Grand Duke’s full backing, even the King of Kaltharion would have had to walk on eggshells around Leroy.

Too bad he’d married her. The "useless daughter" with no power and no voice.

Well.

That was the lie they all believed. But Lorraine had power. More than any of them knew. She had forged it in silence. Forged it in shadows.

She had helped him, too, though he may never know it.

A secret aid. A silent blade. She had moved behind the scenes to keep him from falling. And he never even saw it. It was a shame he’d never know what she had done for him.

Should I tell him who I am?

How will he react when he finds out that I am the one he met under the vyrnshade shrub that night and that I kept my promise to him?

The thought bloomed in her mind like a night rose. Tempting, beautiful, dangerous.

It could change everything.

Or...

It could destroy everything.

And she didn’t want to make that choice. Not now. Not when her heart still stung from his voice, from the way he screamed at her like she was the villain.

It was fine, she told herself. He didn’t need to know.

I’ll be gone soon anyway.

"The Dowager is waiting at the tower," Sylvia said, breaking Lorraine’s thoughts. "She’s been waiting... all day. What should we do about her?"

Lorraine opened her eyes slowly.

"...Tomorrow," she murmured.

Sylvia understood. She nodded and left.

Emma followed soon after, her hands wringing. The doors shut behind them. The room was still. Warm. Safe.

Lorraine leaned against the carved headboard, dressed in clean linens, her hair brushed and braided with care. Her body was warm, her skin scented with rose and cedar.

But sleep didn’t come.

She stared at the shadows on the ceiling, tracing the cracks of moonlight slipping through the drapes.

So much had happened. Too much. She didn’t even know what to feel anymore.

Eventually... after a full jar of wine, and after lying there long enough to count the beats of her heart and the hollow ache in her chest, sleep found her.

But even in sleep, her fists stayed curled beneath the sheets.

-----

Sometime past midnight, when the mansion had settled into silence, the door to her chambers creaked open. A tall shadow stepped in, silent and deliberate.