CHAPTER 118: CHAPTER HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN

Ashlyn lay back against the pillows. Her hand, trembling slightly, moved to her stomach. She pressed her palm against the flat, warm skin beneath her dress.

The Royal Physician’s words echoed in her mind like a church bell. "The fetus still remains intact."

A wave of pure, dizzying happiness washed over her. It was a strange, cold kind of happiness, mixed with shock. She had lied. She had schemed. She had taken a pill to induce bleeding. She had thrown herself down stone steps. She had done everything possible to destroy a life she didn’t even know existed.

And yet, the life was still there.

"A child?" she thought, her eyes widening as she stared at the ceiling. "I am really pregnant? It wasn’t a lie? I actually have a shield?"

She felt a surge of invincibility. Fate was on her side. Fate had protected this child against the poison and the fall. This baby was meant to be. It was her ticket to power. It was her weapon against Marissa.

Carlos, who had been weeping as soon as the news came, wiped his eyes. He reached out and took her hand, the one resting on her stomach. He brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles, his jaw touching her skin lightly.

"Our baby is still alive, Ash," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "He is strong. He is a fighter, just like his father."

Ashlyn looked at him. She felt disgust but quickly masked the expression.

"Yes," she whispered back. "He is alive."

Beatrice, standing at the foot of the bed, let out a long, shaky breath. She leaned heavily on her cane, her face beaming with relief.

"Thank the ancestors," Beatrice murmured. "The Thompson line is blessed. Ashlyn, you must not move. You must stay in this bed until the danger passes."

"I will, Grandmother," Ashlyn promised, her voice sweet and obedient.

Marissa stood by the window, slightly apart from the family tableau. Her face was a mask of calm, but inside, her mind was a whirlwind of confusion.

She looked at Derek.

Derek was standing near the door, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword. He looked back at her. His dark eyes mirrored her own confusion.

"How?" Marissa asked him silently with her eyes. "How is she truly pregnant?"

Derek gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. He didn’t know.

With the family distracted by their joy—Carlos fussing over Ashlyn’s pillows, Beatrice calling for warm water—Marissa saw her chance.

She turned slightly and caught Lily’s eye. Lily was standing in the shadows near the wardrobe, looking as confused as her mistress.

Marissa made a small motion with her finger.

Lily understood immediately. She stepped forward quietly, moving calmly. Marissa leaned down, pretending to adjust her shoe, and Lily bent with her.

"Go to the garden," Marissa whispered, her voice barely audible. "Find what made her bleed so much. Find the evidence."

Lily nodded once. "Yes, Your Grace."

Lily straightened up, curtsied to the room at large, and slipped out the door, unnoticed by the celebrating family.

The Royal Physician gave Ashlyn a pill and packed his wooden box. He snapped the latches shut.

"I will leave you now," the physician said. "I will return tomorrow to check on your health."

Derek stepped away from the wall. "I will escort you out."

He opened the door for the old man. The physician bowed to the Dowager and left. Derek followed him out into the cool, torch-lit hallway.

He signaled to a passing maid.

"Take the Royal Physician to the best guest room," Derek ordered. "Bring him hot food and wine. Ensure he is comfortable. He is not to leave the estate until morning. It’s dangerous for he to be on the road by this hour."

"Yes, Your Grace," the maid said, bobbing a curtsy. She led the old doctor away.

Derek watched them go. The hallway was empty now, save for the long shadows cast by the torches. He rubbed his temple. His head was throbbing. The month had been too long with a lot of things going on. The raid, the performance at the Golden Swan, the confrontation with Senna, and now this pregnancy attack on Marissa.

He needed air.

He walked toward the main entrance of the wing, stepping out onto a small stone balcony that overlooked the dark grounds. Ideally, he wanted to go back to Marissa, to talk to her, but he knew she would be busy managing the chaos inside.

A shadow detached itself from a pillar.

It was Ian.

Ian looked tired. He walked up to Derek and bowed.

"Your Grace," Ian whispered.

Derek turned, leaning his back against the stone railing. "Report."

"I have finished the investigation you asked for," Ian said, his voice low and grave. "Everything about Lady Senna has been found. We dug deep."

Derek’s face hardened. "Perfect."

Ian hesitated for a second, as if the news was heavy. " And..."

Derek waited.

"The spy," Ian continued. "The one you told me to find in the barracks."

Derek nodded slowly. "Yes."

"He has been identified," Ian said. "We caught him trying to leave the city gates an hour ago. We... questioned him."

"And?"

"He is a man named Jonas," Ian said. "He is not a soldier. He works as a supply runner."

Ian looked Derek in the eye.

"He works for the Golden Swan."

The silence that followed was heavy. The wind rustled the leaves in the garden below.

Derek chuckled.

It was not a happy sound. It was a rough, scraping sound, tearing from his throat like a jagged stone. It was the sound of a man realizing the depth of his own stupidity.

He raised a hand and raked his fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots in frustration.

"The Golden Swan," Derek repeated.

It all made sense now. The pieces of the puzzle slammed together in his mind, forming a picture he hated.

"I built that place for her," Derek said, his voice bitter. "I gave her a sanctuary. I gave her money. And she filled it with spies."

He looked out at the darkness.

"So that is why," Derek whispered. "That is why Commander Leon was ambushed before I got to him. Leon sent the message to me through a secure channel, but I... I mentioned I was going to the monastery to Senna. I told her I had ’business’."

He hit the stone railing with his fist.

"She told them," he said. "She told Prince Liam."

He turned back to Ian, his eyes blazing with cold fury.

"That is why Liam keeps suspecting me," Derek said, pacing a small circle on the balcony. "That is why the Royal Guards were at the monastery. That is why they raided the Golden Swan. It wasn’t a coincidence. Liam planted a mole there. Or rather... Senna is the mole."

He stopped pacing. He looked at Ian.

"Senna has been feeding information to the Crown Prince," Derek realized. "She has been playing both sides. She uses my protection to stay safe, and she sells my secrets to Liam to gain favor."

It was a betrayal so deep it made his blood boil. He had protected her for years because she saved his life. And she had used that gratitude to kill his father’s most loyal commander.

Ian interrupted Derek’s assumption. " Actually, Lady Senna is innocent. Her maid, Esme, is the real mole. Prince Liam knows how close you are to Lady Senna and planted a spy beside her as your maid to be able to get first hand informations."

"What about the moles?" Derek asked, his voice flat. "Jonas. The supply runner. And Esme."

Ian’s face was impassive.

"Dead, Your Grace," Ian replied. "Jonas did not survive the questioning and Esme was killed on her way back from her meeting with prince Liam."

Derek nodded. Good. One less loose end.

He reached out and patted Ian’s back. It was a heavy, solid pat.

"You have done well," Derek said. He looked at his loyal guard. Ian looked exhausted.

"Get some rest, Ian," Derek said gently. "Go. Eat , have a relaxing bath and Sleep."

Ian bowed deeply. "Thank you, Your Grace."

Ian turned and walked away, fading back into the shadows of the hallway.

Derek stood alone on the balcony. He looked up at the moon, putting all the information he had gathered tonight.