CHAPTER 97: UNCOMFORTABLE QUESTIONS

That night, Lorraine waited in front of Leroy’s room. She had woken from a strange dream, slapped her husband thinking he was on fire, and bolted into the cold without looking back.

He had done nothing wrong.

She vaguely remembered him apologizing for holding her. At the time, it hadn’t registered, but when she returned to her room and composed herself, the truth gnawed at her. All he’d done was hold her under the ash tree, warming her against the wind.

And she had repaid that with panic.

She needed to see him, if only to... explain herself. She couldn’t talk about the dream, but she could at least talk about something.

His rejection the other night still stung, so she came armed with a reason: the dress she had commissioned for Zara had arrived. Surely, he would speak to her if it were about Zara. Sylvia was with her to translate.

She was about to knock when Aldric appeared. "If you’re looking for the Prince, he’s in the make-shift study," he said.

Her hand drifted to her belly without thinking. Leroy’s real study had been taken over by the painter fussing with the base sketch for their commissioned portrait. Now the nursery, a room she’d designed to have the perfect balance of summer light and winter warmth, fit for a little prince, was cluttered with the prince’s work.

She had designed that room with so much hope and expectations... And now, she would not be here when her child arrived. Her child would not have his father when he arrived.

Her heart sank with the weight of it.

But she knew she had to leave, to protect her baby. Otherwise, his life would not be spared. She couldn’t even be sure if Leroy would protect their son. He might not be attracted to Elyse anymore, and might be nice to her because he pitied her. But had he accepted her as she was? How much would he love their child that was conceived on her deception? He slept with the Divina, not her. And she knew it would play a big factor.

She had only known the cruelty of her father. She knew how far a father would go to hurt the child he disliked. Leroy, too, had never felt his father’s affections. Lorraine didn’t want to give the same life for her child. That was one of the reasons she wanted to leave.

Aldric knocked on the nursery door and slipped inside. Lorraine caught glimpses of the room beyond. Maps were scattered across the desk and floor, and papers were thrown around in a chaotic sprawl.

What was he looking for?

Aldric emerged a few moments later, his eyes downcast, the air around him heavy. He hesitated before signing, and in that pause, she noticed him glance back at the closed door. Aldric had caught the faint smear of dirt along Leroy’s sleeve, as though he’d brushed against the ash tree earlier that day. The scent of it must have clung to him still. When he mentioned the princess, he looked at it, and then his eyes turned distant.

Aldric saw them sharing a quiet moment earlier. But what happened afterward?

"His Highness is busy," Aldric signed at last. "He will definitely call for you."

Even without words, Lorraine knew Leroy didn’t want to see her. Her throat tightened, sadness burning behind her eyes. This time, it was her fault. She turned away.

Sylvia lingered, glancing at Aldric. "I don’t know what’s gotten into him," he said, sighing.

Sylvia’s gaze lingered on the closed door before she followed Lorraine down the corridor.

Aldric looked after them, his own sigh carrying more weight than the words he had spoken.

-----

The night before the ceremony, Aldric pushed open the door to what was now Leroy’s "study."

Well, makeshift study. Leroy had locked himself in there for the past day, working like a man possessed. The princess had shut herself in her own chambers. Aldric had no idea what either of them was thinking, or avoiding, but the air between them was starting to feel... wrong.

The sight inside stopped him in the doorway.

Stacks of books, maps, and loose sheets were strewn across the desk, spilling onto the floor in careless piles, more than last night. In the chaos, one thing caught his eye: a large blueprint pinned high on the far wall. The blueprint of the mansion. The princess had hidden that in a nearly unreachable corner of the library. Somehow, Leroy had found it. And he’d been studying it.

Before Aldric could get close, Leroy’s voice cut through the room.

"What should I do to leave everything to my wife?"

Aldric’s pulse stuttered.

The prince sat hunched at the table, hair mussed, eyes shadowed by deep, sleepless hollows. How long had he been awake? And what kind of question was that?

"You... Your Highness?" Aldric managed, but the shock must have been written on his face.

Leroy rubbed the bridge of his nose, elbows braced on the desk. "She’s earned everything. And yet, everything is in my name. Vaelorian law forbids women from owning property. If I die, she won’t inherit a thing, will she?"

The words made Aldric’s chest tighten. "Isn’t it too soon to speak of such things, Your Highness?" he asked carefully. Wasn’t he too young to be thinking about his will? The war was over, at least for now. He had people to protect him. Why was he talking about death now?

Aldric was a little superstitious and believed one’s thoughts ended up as words—and once spoken, words gained the power to change the path of a person’s life. It was why he believed everyone should speak positive things.

"How much will she have after me?" Leroy pressed. His green eyes glimmered in the dim lamplight, sharp and unblinking.

Aldric exhaled slowly. "For now? Nothing. Without an heir, she inherits nothing. In the presence of an heir, she’d remain guardian until they come of age. After that... she’d be dependent on—"

"If I die now?" Leroy interrupted, his tone flat but heavy.

The bluntness sent a jolt through Aldric. "In the absence of an heir, everything she owns would revert to her father. She would be under his conservatorship until she dies... or marries again."

Leroy’s brows twitched. "What a cruel law," he muttered. "But shouldn’t she be bound by Kaltharion law now that she’s married to me?"

Aldric’s patriotism stiffened at the quiet contempt in the prince’s voice. "It’s the same in Kaltharion, Your Highness," he said evenly. The two nations might hate each other, but their laws, particularly the ones that caged women, were nearly identical.

"Tell me now... what if she were with child? Shouldn’t that child be male for her to keep everything?"

Aldric’s throat closed. He was so not comfortable talking about this. "You should share a bed for that, Your Highness," he said, voice tighter than he meant.

He turned to leave. He didn’t like the direction this talk was going.

"You know there is a chance she might be pregnant, don’t you... Sir Al? Or should I call you Master?"