Chapter 230: A Pocket Of Light
Leroy and Aralyn parted at last. The emotions hadn’t faded, but the tears had. Happy tears had a way of drying, leaving warmth in their wake.
Leroy held her shoulders gently, his smile soft and radiant. "Anything you need, you can ask. My wife will see to it. And if she’s occupied, Aldric will handle it," he said.
Aralyn smiled, her fingers brushing lightly over his arm as though to convince herself he was real. "I have everything I want right here," she murmured.
Leroy’s smile lingered, but only for a heartbeat. Then it thinned, his eyes steadying with quiet resolve. Though his expression remained kind, his voice lowered, firm and deliberate, the way a man of power spoke when he meant every word.
"My previous statement stands," he said. "In this house, my wife will not be disrespected. Not even by you. She runs this household as she pleases. If you disagree, I ask you to keep it to yourself."
Aralyn’s smile faltered. Her son, her sweet boy whom she’d cradled in her arms, was now a man, and that man had just placed his wife above her. The words stung, not out of wounded pride, but because they marked the undeniable truth: this was his home, his life, built without her.
She lowered her gaze briefly, gathering herself. She’d never hungered for power, not even in the King’s palace. She had once lived content as a royal mistress, without influence, because love had been enough. Perhaps here, too, love would be enough. She could live as a guest in her son’s world, as long as she could stay near him.
"Thank you, Mother," Leroy said quietly, sincerity threading through his voice.
He was grateful she understood. He loved her fiercely; how could he not? But his wife came first. Always.
He remembered the mistake he’d made with Zara: his failure to set boundaries had given her the space to torment Lorraine under his own roof. He had sworn never to repeat that error, not with anyone. Not even with his mother.
His wife could be naive at times, stubbornly so, but with Zara, at least Lorraine had fought back. Silently, of course, but she had tried to poison her, and rid of her problem. With his mother, she never would resort to such methods. She would suffer in silence, smile through the pain, and let herself be diminished out of respect.
No. He wouldn’t allow it.
He had vowed to protect her, and he would honor that vow, even if it meant drawing lines against his own blood. And if his mother loved her, it wouldn’t be hard for her to respect his wife.
-----
Lorraine sat at her desk and gathered the scattered papers into a neat stack. Her shoulders ached, but she forced herself to focus. If she allowed herself to slacken now, even for a moment, they’d walk straight into the Dowager’s snare.
"Aldric, make sure all the tunnel mouths are secured," she said without looking up.
"Already done," Aldric replied promptly.
Lorraine leaned back in her chair and absently scratched the back of her head. "Do you think the Dowager would listen to her uncle? Will he rein her in?"
Her voice was calm, but beneath it lay a current of unease. She had already deployed her shinobi to watch the Dowager’s every move, but uncertainty still gnawed at her.
Aldric’s expression softened. "Why don’t you rest for once?" he asked gently. "Osric still holds power in court, and more importantly, your husband has returned."
"Ah... rest," Lorraine said with a quiet laugh. The word tasted foreign. Lovely, but distant. Could she really rest? There was too much to protect. The Dowager’s eyes were everywhere, waiting for a single slip. Her secret identity was the baited trap, and she was the prey who could never afford to blink.
And on top of that, she still had to manage the affairs of the red-light district—a shadow empire she had built and maintained through wit and will. If she faltered now, everything she had built could collapse.
Her gaze shifted suddenly, lighting up with mischief. "By the way, why don’t you get betrothed during the Candlelight Ball?" she asked, eyes widening as though struck by a brilliant idea. The room had been filled with talk of traps and tunnels; they needed a sliver of light, and what better than a celebration?
Aldric blinked, caught off guard by the change in topic. "You think so?"
"Why not?" Lorraine said, leaning forward eagerly. "You and Sylvia have already decided, haven’t you? Leroy will be here; he can officiate it. We can even make it a surprise for her!" Her eyes sparkled, and for a rare moment, she looked like a woman free from burdens.
Aldric couldn’t help but laugh, a warm, unrestrained sound. Seeing Lorraine animated like this was rare and precious. "We can," he said, his grin matching hers.
"Good," Lorraine said with a satisfied nod. "Then it’s settled. Let’s give everyone something worth smiling about."
And just like that, between the looming shadows of war and court intrigue, they carved out a pocket of light.
Just then, the door swung open and Leroy stepped inside.
Lorraine’s face brightened immediately. "Leroy!" she exclaimed, pushing aside her papers. "We’re having Aldric and Sylvia’s betrothal at the Candlelight Ball! You should officiate!"
She practically skipped to him, her excitement bubbling over.
"The Candlelight Ball?" Leroy repeated, blinking. His expression betrayed his utter confusion.
Aldric suppressed a groan. Of course. Leroy had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. Lorraine had written to him about the event every year, and if he had forgotten... well, Aldric had no desire to witness the storm that would follow.
He waved his hand behind Lorraine’s back, shaking his head ever so slightly. For the love of the gods, don’t ask. Don’t you dare ask.
"What—" Leroy began.
Aldric held his breath. No. No, no, no. Don’t dig your grave here, Your Highness.
The Candlelight Ball was the one festivity Lorraine was allowed to host of her own accord—a night when she gathered the people who mattered most to her, celebrating loyalty and kinship in defiance of the rigid court. It was a ball for her people. It was her domain, her tradition. If he admitted ignorance now, she’d be hurt.
Leroy’s pause stretched a heartbeat too long.
Then his expression smoothed, a grin flashing across his face. "What a splendid idea," he said warmly.
Aldric silently thanked every saint in the pantheon.
Lorraine clapped her hands, delighted. "I’ll start making the arrangements immediately!" she said, and with a happy skip, she breezed out of the room.
Leroy’s gaze followed her, soft with affection. But the moment she disappeared, his smile faded like sunlight behind clouds. He turned to Aldric, his tone shifting from fond to all business.
"Tell me," he said quietly, "how far does the Dowager’s power reach?"