Chapter 168: The Letter
Aralyn’s reaction said what her silence did not. Lorraine’s heart sank with guilt, realizing how thoughtless she had been to pry into something so deeply personal. Her excitement, the fragile hope of this new life growing within her, had led her to ask what she had always tried to avoid; questions meant only for whispered confessions in private, not in the open like this.
She was about to apologize when Aralyn spoke.
"I had one... but lost him," Aralyn murmured after a long pause, her voice fragile, as though carefully stitching herself back together.
The weight of those words hung heavily in the air, filling the space between them like a shadow. Lorraine could feel Sylvia stiffen beside her, a subtle, shared tremor for she too knew loss, the sharp ache of children lost too soon.
For a breathless moment, time seemed to freeze in mutual grief.
"My son..." Aralyn replied softly, her voice barely audible, thick with sorrow, her hand brushing her cheek. "I was willing to do anything for him, but..." Her gaze remained fixed on the ground, her hands tightening into fists. "He was small... fragile... I could not save him."
Lorraine signed her apology with quiet regret, her fingers trembling.
Aralyn, however, met her with a gentle smile, her hand rising gracefully to rest over Lorraine’s own, steady and warm.
"It was long ago," she said, her tone as measured and elegant as ever, carrying no bitterness. "When I served your mother, I had wished to be your wet nurse... but time had passed too far by then."
Lorraine’s lips curved into a soft smile, touched by Aralyn’s graceful resilience, how she bore such weight with poise, turning sorrow into something dignified.
Just as the atmosphere threatened to grow unbearably heavy, an unexpected burst of energy cut through it.
Emma, the chirpy maid, practically bounced into the garden, her bright smile and buoyant voice completely unaware of the grief hanging in the air.
"Oh! Your Highness, I saw you here and knew you’d want snacks! The kitchen just finished a fresh batch of lemon pastries; I thought you might like them!"
Her innocent exuberance shifted the mood, a spark of light that seemed to push back the shadows, offering a moment of levity.
Lorraine couldn’t help but stifle a soft laugh, the tension dissolving just enough to let her breathe out.
From a distance, Elias watched, his eyes fixed on Emma, annoyance thinly masked beneath his stoic expression. Clearly, the kiss he had hoped for remained elusive.
Lorraine smiled inwardly at the sight, grateful for the unexpected reprieve.
They returned to the house after lingering in the garden a while longer, chatting softly, sipping tea, and watching the sun sink slowly below the horizon, bathing the sky in hues of amber and rose. The air, once sharp with autumn’s chill, had softened as twilight settled, giving the moment a tender tranquility.
Aralyn seemed eager to learn more about the household. Her curiosity soon turned to the kitchen. Lorraine gently urged her to rest, to let others care for her, but Aralyn was determined.
"I wish to prepare supper," Aralyn said, her tone measured but firm. "It is the least I can do to show my gratitude. You saved me from that darkness, Your Highness... and I must thank His Highness as well."
Lorraine hesitated, the conflict between duty and kindness pressing on her, but finally relented with a soft nod.
She watched as Aralyn, accompanied by Emma’s cheerful chatter, walked toward the kitchen. Each step seemed to renew her strength, her posture regained its former grace, her head held a little higher, as though the simple act of being among others was a balm for wounds unseen.
Lorraine reflected on how much connection mattered, how the human need to belong and to be useful could heal even the deepest scars. Aralyn was no exception. There was a subtle transformation in her, a light returning to her amber eyes. Her elegance now seemed natural, rather than forced, echoing the days when she had served Lorraine’s mother with unspoken devotion and quiet dignity. Even the way she moved spoke of innate style, the kind her mother had always praised as the best thing to grace their house.
Lorraine sighed softly, proud that Aralyn no longer seemed afraid to be here.
She was just about to return to her chambers when a messenger arrived, a foot soldier of Kaltharion, standing stiff and formal. He carried a single, sealed letter, unmarked by any emblem or crest.
The envelope was addressed to Leroy.
Her fingers reached for the seal, curiosity gnawing at her. But the soldier’s voice cut through the stillness, firm and insistent. "It must only be opened by His Highness."
Lorraine’s expression remained composed as she nodded. She stepped toward Leroy’s study, Aldric silently accompanying her. The messenger was left standing outside the mansion’s gates, unable to proceed further.
Inside the dim study, Lorraine broke the seal with careful hands and unfolded the parchment. Her eyes traced the words. It was from Leroy’s mother.
Her breath caught slightly. She passed the letter to Aldric silently. Aldric read it, which was written in the Kaltharion language.
{
My dearest son,
In such troubling times, the Emperor’s inquiry into the unfortunate events during the tribute offering weighs heavily upon us all. I trust your wisdom guides you to approach this matter with the prudence and dignity expected of our bloodline.
It would be wise, I believe, for you to carefully recount your presence and actions throughout the ceremony. A thorough record may serve to clarify any lingering questions, however slight, and demonstrate our unwavering respect for the Imperial Court.
I have also heard mention that your brother Gaston, now returned to our lands, has misplaced his signet ring—a matter small, yet potentially troubling in such sensitive times. I am certain you recall whether, in your shared moments together before his departure, the ring might have been inadvertently left in your possession or lost near your quarters.
Should the Emperor’s men happen upon any fragment of our family’s symbols within Vaelorian hands, it may be taken for something more ominous than it truly is. Therefore, it seems only prudent that you verify such details yourself and prepare any explanation needed should the matter arise.
Your attentiveness to these small matters reflects not only on yourself but on the legacy of our House. Let us ensure that Kaltharion’s name remains unsullied, even as shadows lengthen around us.
With all the care a mother can command,
Her Majesty, The Queen of Kaltharion.
}
"What do you think?" Lorraine signed, her eyes sharp, her posture composed yet laced with a quiet challenge.
Aldric carefully folded the parchment and placed it on the table with deliberate precision. His expression was unreadable, but the weight in his eyes spoke volumes.
"She wants to implicate Prince Leroy in a trap," he said, his voice low and measured.
Lorraine’s gaze lingered on the folded letter for a moment longer, as though tasting the bitterness of the revelation. Then, slowly, a smirk curved her lips, subtle, knowing, and full of resolve.