Chapter 189: To Protect Her Mother’s Grandson
"You want me to go to a courtesan’s place?" His tone was low, laced with such unmistakable offense that it might as well have been written in bold.
Lorraine blinked, as if that alone might erase the growing storm of indignation on his face. Clearly, she had committed a cardinal sin by suggesting such a thing. Her husband, ever the stoic paragon of propriety, wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere near a courtesan’s establishment, except, of course, when he marched beside her like some oversized royal bodyguard.
Did he forget that I am the madame of the courtesans? Ugh. What can I do with him?
"Your Highness knows Celeste is the highest paid courtesan here, don’t you?" Lorraine asked, as though his offense was somehow his own fault. After all, following Seraphina’s departure, Celeste had pretty much taken her place in everyone’s gossip. Everyone knew Celeste. Everybody. Yet Lorraine decided to pin the blame squarely on her husband, partly to see if it might soothe his bruised ego.
And it worked.
"Everyone knows her," he grunted.
Lorraine smirked, trying to keep the mood light. "Aren’t you even a little curious? You could talk to her... get to know her perspective."
Leroy stared at her, expression utterly blank. Then his lips twitched; not with affection, nor amusement, but as if considering her the most foolish creature to ever walk the capital.
Lorraine decided not to push her luck any further. "I’ll send someone else to get it for you," she said, donning her leather mask and tightening her cloak around her shoulders. Her voice held that same cool precision that left no room for argument.
"Follow my instructions to the letter," she continued, her tone matter-of-fact. "If anything goes wrong, improvise. I’ll handle the rest. The guards standing by the throne room, the man who fans the emperor—those are all my men. If it comes to it, don’t think twice. Don’t stand and fight. Just run."
Leroy stared at her, his brows knitting together. "You have people inside the palace?" he asked, incredulous.
"For some reason," Lorraine replied with a hint of dry amusement, "all of his guards are hopelessly perverted. I give them what they want, and they do exactly what I need. They don’t even like the Emperor. Honestly, you’ve got to feel sorry for the man. No one does. His wife comes from a powerful family, but she stays out of politics. Without the Dowager, he’d be long dead."
Her voice trailed off as a new thought struck her. If the Emperor was so utterly dull, so uninspired, then who had carefully plotted Leroy’s demise?
Her lips curved into a knowing smirk. Oh, Dowager... Dowager...
"And..." Lorraine looked directly at Leroy, her eyes sharp, accusatory, "she’ll ask you for Aralyn."
He said nothing. He didn’t need to. The weight of his mistake hung between them like a noose.
"I’ll tell her..." he murmured, almost defeated. "that I can’t~"
Lorraine cut him off smoothly. "Tell her you’ll bring her tonight."
Leroy raised an eyebrow, silently acknowledging that she wouldn’t back down, that her resolve was ironclad.
She wouldn’t hand over Aralyn, and the Dowager wouldn’t take no for an answer. And that could only mean one thing...
Leroy nodded, the weight of his mistake settling on his shoulders. He’d made the wrong call, and now it was up to his wife to navigate the storm he’d unleashed. Perhaps he shouldn’t decide so rashly next time.
"Are you going home?" he asked softly.
He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his body close as if trying to shield her from the unseen forces that threatened to pull her away. He rubbed her back gently, not wanting to let go, believing that this simple touch could keep her grounded. If he kept her like this in his embrace all the time, it would keep the Oracle at bay. He knew it was foolish, that it wasn’t practical, but in that moment, it was all he could offer.
"I’m going to the Arvand mansion," Lorraine said, her voice steady but tinged with steel. "Today is going to be a bloodbath. I want to meet my brother and give him his instructions. I need to protect my mother’s grandson."
Leroy let out a long, quiet breath and pressed a tender kiss to her temple, the gesture small but full of meaning. "Be careful," he murmured.
Their lips met one final time, a kiss not of passion, but of solemn farewell.
Then he left.
Lorraine’s face hardened the moment Leroy vanished from sight. Her hand trembled faintly at her side. She hated this feeling of beng cornered and feeling uncertain. With the Oracle threatening her sovereignty, her very hold over her own body, what hope was left?
Would the Oracle take her husband from her? Her child?
But she had no time to linger on such thoughts. Shoving the fear down, she turned toward the hidden tunnels and made her way to her family estate: the Arvand Mansion.
The guards at the gate blinked in shock when she arrived: on foot, cloaked in the coarse garments of a commoner. They stepped forward, hesitant, but she brushed past them, heading straight for her brother’s study. The men moved to block her path. She thought she would have to reveal herself, when salvation arrived in the form of Lysander’s wife.
"Let her through," the young woman said firmly, her presence like a shield.
Elyse’s mother appeared in the commotion, her sharp eyes narrowing in disbelief. Lorraine braced herself for a confrontation, but Lysander’s wife stepped in before she could utter a word.
"You can go see your brother, Lorraine," she said, calm yet commanding.
The staff stood silent, as though weighing where true authority now rested. Lorraine’s lips curved faintly. It seemed Lysander and his wife had claimed the household at last. Good.
It was the first time she entered her brother’s private study. A scholar’s den, lined with shelves of leather-bound books, illuminated maps, and scattered artifacts—pieces of history preserved like treasures.
Lysander’s eyes widened the moment she entered, as though he were staring at a ghost. "Lorraine?" His voice cracked with disbelief.
She did not waste a heartbeat. "The emperor’s guards will be here in a couple of hours. Here’s what you must do before then." She pressed a folded parchment onto his desk, her hand firm, her tone clipped with command.
Lysander rose to his feet, still stunned, his gaze fixed on her lips as if trying to convince himself they had truly moved. "You... you’re speaking," he whispered, voice trembling. His eyes shone with a childlike awe, as if he had been waiting his whole life to hear her.
"Yes," Lorraine said evenly, her cold composure masking the storm beneath her ribs. "Now do as I say."
He unfolded the parchment, his hands shaking. His eyes scanned the lines, and with each instruction his face drained of color. "What is this...?"
Lorraine leaned forward, her icy-blue eyes pinning him with a force that made him falter. "Will you trust me, or won’t you?"