Chapter 207: His Letter
When Sylvia reached Aldric’s chambers, she found them as she always did. It was strewn with clutter, papers spilling like a tide, books stacked at dangerous angles, and an oil lamp still burning precariously close to a scatter of ledgers. It was reckless, almost inviting disaster.
A fire waiting to happen... or some venomous creature nesting in the chaos, she thought, though it wasn’t the mess that made her chest ache.
It was his absence.
Her eyes swept the room, searching for the tall, infuriating figure, but all she found was silence. Then, her breath caught. Amid the parchment and ink, one sheet lay differently. A quill rested across it, as if abandoned mid-thought. And written at the top, in a hand he rarely used, were two words that set her heart racing.
Dearest Sylvia.
Her lips curved without her willing it. The words blurred as her pulse thundered in her ears. She read on.
I’ll be out for a while.
The smile faltered, her stomach tightening. Out? Where? Why? What about the Princess? Who is protecting her?
Her eyes dropped to the next line, and her heart skipped, because he had already anticipated her thoughts.
I know what you’re thinking. I’ll be out to protect the Princess. So, take a deep breath.
As if under a spell, Sylvia inhaled, slowly, deeply, exactly as he commanded. But halfway through, another fear pierced her: What about you? Your safety?
Her gaze darted back to the parchment.
I’ll be careful too, just for your sake.
She nearly dropped the page. How- how does he know? A laugh, helpless and trembling, slipped from her lips. Her chest swelled with something tender, something wild, as though her heart was too big for her body.
Keep that smile I so often fail to earn but never stop yearning for. Watch over the house with the same sharp eyes that catch every foolish thing I do. There may be no danger, but if there is, you already know what to do.
Living with you in my heart,
Your Aldric.
Her knees weakened, her hand pressing the letter to her chest as though she could press his heartbeat into her own. He was never this eloquent when he spoke, yet somehow, on paper, he wrote straight into her soul.
Folding the parchment carefully to keep it safe in her bosom, Sylvia gasped. Along the crease, smaller words curled like a secret meant only for her.
(P.S. And since I know where this letter will end up... how I wish I too could be folded and nestled there, safe forever.)
Her face flamed crimson. "This man..." she whispered, half scandalized, half elated. He even knew where she would hide his letter.
Still clutching it close, Sylvia steadied herself. The uncertainty and the fear she felt seeing the bloodied Elias disappear. Confidence bloomed in her heart. Aldric would guard the Princess. The Princess, in turn, would guard the Prince. And she—she would guard this home that tied them all together.
Because in the beating of her heart, she carried Aldric with her.
-----
"Did you get any word from the palace?" Lorraine asked, reclining against the bed’s carved headboard. This had once been her room, but it no longer felt like hers. She was only waiting... waiting for her husband to return so she could go home.
She wanted to know if the dowager was successfully silenced.
"From the palace?" Aldric, seated in a chair beside her, shook his head. "Not yet. But I heard your sister survived. Leroy saved her from being assaulted in the streets."
Lorraine stilled. For a moment, Aldric thought she might show relief or fury. He remembered all Elyse’s schemes, and that particular incident that went too far. He knew Lorraine rarely struck too hard, yet he could not entirely blame Lorraine this time.
"As he should," Lorraine murmured at last, turning her face away. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing what flickered beneath her calm. That man... Did she want him to go that far with Elyse, knowing that was what he wanted to do? Did she plan it? Or was she just testing if he could do what he actually wanted to do?
Whatever it was... Her Leroy... he had done what was right. And if he hadn’t? She refused to finish that thought.
"I found the ring," Aldric said quietly. "The Signet Ring Gaston missed here."
Her eyes widened. She had arranged for Lord Leville to receive a counterfeit, one she could later expose to unravel the court in chaos. But the real ring—if she had wielded it, it would have changed everything.
"Why didn’t you give it to me?" she demanded.
Aldric’s lips curved in a faint smile. "Because I found someone better suited to deliver it to the court."
"Who?" Lorraine asked, wary but not yet alarmed. She trusted Aldric. She welcomed his schemes when they strengthened hers.
"Lord Osric Vaelith."
"The dowager’s uncle?" Lorraine arched a brow. She had heard of him as a myth. But he had left the kingdom ages ago. "And how, exactly, do you know him?"
Aldric exhaled slowly, then reached for her hand. "He is one who has sworn to protect you—the..."
"Am I the reincarnation of the Swan Oracle, Aldric?" Her voice trembled despite her effort at composure. That suspicion haunted her, and she hated it. Because if she were the Oracle reborn, then she was bound—not to Leroy, not to herself—but to the Great Dragon. And she belonged to Leroy. She wanted to be.
"No." Aldric’s voice was steady. "You and the Swan Oracle are two different women. You carry her gift, nothing more."
Relief flooded her chest; she released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
"And the five of you?" she asked softly.
"There were six families once," Aldric said. "Six guardians. Only five remain. We swore an oath to protect you." His hands clenched at his sides. He could tell her everything—everything but the truth that he was her uncle. That secret still lodged like a stone in his throat.
"And the Vaelith family?" Lorraine pressed.
"Is one of the five," Aldric admitted.
Her eyes sharpened. "Then the dowager knows everything you know. Every secret, every thread of lore; she knows too?"
"Yes." He had met with her years ago, to confirm her place in the mission. Back then, she was torn between preserving her son’s claim to the throne and honoring the legacy of the true heir. But Aldric had seen it in her: the hesitation, the fracture of loyalty. And now, he knew which path she had chosen.
"And you gave the ring to her uncle?" Lorraine whispered, disbelief curling into dread. "If the dowager would sacrifice anyone, even her family’s legacy, for her son, then why wouldn’t her uncle do the same?"
"I trust him," Aldric said simply.
Lorraine inclined her head. "If you say so... But—" she leaned closer, her eyes narrowing with a question that had been gnawing at her. "She commanded the wind, didn’t she? How powerful was she, truly?"