CHAPTER 25: LETTING GO

Disappearing forever... Taking him with her...

The thought squeezed her heart, a sharp ache that stole her breath. Why? She still hadn’t figured it out.

"These blossoms are poisonous," she said, her voice steady. "Don’t eat them. I don’t mind it if you use them on others, but do not eat them yourself."

"Poisonous?" He raised his brows, his eyes widening with panic. "You ate them!" He reached for her mouth, as if he could bring it out of her with his bare hands.

She smiled, a small curve of her lips, touched by his worry. They’d known each other for less than an hour, yet he cared. Cared so much for her. Cerainly more than her father.

Straddling him again, she framed his face with her hands, her thumbs tracing the sharp lines of his cheekbones. "For some reason, these flowers won’t kill me. I wanted to die, and..."

Her throat closed, tears welling in her eyes, glistening like dew on petals. She’d never understood her survival, but maybe it was for this... for him, to save him. It was all for this moment.

"You’re here... And I want to live for you," she whispered.

He stiffened, his muscles tensing under her touch, understanding the heaviness of her words. She hugged his shoulders tightly, her fingers brushing the emerald pin in his braid.

"My mother used to say that everyone has someone who thinks of them, even when they don’t know it... I’ll be that one for you. I’ll live for you. I’ll be your poison, your blade in the shadows. I’ll carry you in my chest like a breath. So..."

Her fingers lingered on his braid, its silkiness soft against her skin. "If you feel you can’t live, remember me. Remember, I’m living for you. So live."

Lorraine’s mind snapped back to the present, tears streaming down her cheeks, leaving salty trails on her skin as she looked up at the twinkling sky.

She’d lied about her age, didn’t tell him her name when he asked, and he’d mistaken her for Elyse. A year later, he returned, his steps firm with newfound purpose. Her father, who never let her greet guests, forced her presence that day. The Emperor’s Lord Chamberlain stood with Leroy, proposing a marriage to Duke Arvand’s daughter.

"I’ll marry the eldest," Leroy declared, his voice ringing in the grand hall.

It shattered her heart, but she stood silent, a statue in Elyse’s shadows. Fate had bound her to him, yet now...

"I’m letting go of you, Leroy," she said, her voice breaking as she clutched the oil lamp, its handle cool against her trembling fingers. "I’ll break my vow to you. I’m not going to live for you anymore. I’m going to live for myself. I won’t think of you again."

She stepped closer to the vyrnshade shrub, its twisted branches gleaming in the moonlight, reminiscent of the tender feelings that boy she met that night evoked deep in her heart. She tipped the lamp, the oil spilling onto the roots, a dark puddle glistening under the moon. She wanted to set fire to this shrub that held all the memories in a desperate attempt to remove him from her mind.

Lorraine’s fingers hovered over the flint, poised to strike a spark, when at a distance, a lantern’s golden glow pierced the darkness, swaying like a firefly in the night.

Her breath caught, and she darted behind a tangle of bushes, their thorny branches scraping her arms. Peering through the leaves, she watched the light drift toward the mansion’s rear.

She knew that path all too well. That path snaked down to the dungeons, a place she’d thought abandoned, its stone walls silent for years. Her father’s cruelty had once filled those cells, but she’d believed no prisoners lingered.

Who could be down there now?

Her heart thudded as she tracked the lantern’s slow journey, the air thick with the damp scent of moss and the faint, sweet whisper of vyrnshade blossoms.

She followed the light for a few seconds, but then she stopped. A chill prickled her skin, the eerie sensation of being watched creeping over her. She scanned the shadows. Nothing moved but the swaying grass, yet the feeling persisted, raising the fine hairs on her neck.

Someone’s eyes bore into her, unseen but undeniable.

She didn’t want to look into it anymore. Reluctantly, she turned toward her mother’s grave, her steps heavy on the sodden earth, each squish a reminder of her solitude. The creepy unease clung to her like a second skin, but as she neared, a gasp escaped her lips.

A bright lamp glowed beside the weathered headstone, its light spilling over the neglected plot where weeds choked the ground. A figure sat there, still as stone. No one visited this grave but her; its cracked stone and overgrown vines testified to that.

Who dared intrude?

Lorraine crept closer, the damp grass brushing her ankles, and recognition struck her like a cold wind. Lysander Arvand, her brother, turned at the sound of her footsteps. His face softened into a smile, warm and radiant, lighting up the gloom.

Lorraine froze, her pulse racing. Why did he look at her as if she were someone he cherished? The thought twisted in her gut, unsettling and strange.

Lysander was her mother’s son, a toddler of two when their mother perished. He’d never known their mother’s gentle touch, never felt her love. Elyse and her stepmother had raised him, weaving lies and poisoning his heart until he saw Lorraine as an outsider, a curse to shun. She’d tried to reach him once, driven by her mother’s dying plea to protect her brother. But he’d joined Elyse’s taunts, mocking her muteness, even raising his hand to hit her.

At his wedding last year, she’d been a ghost among the guests, ignored and unseen. Last month, at his son’s christening, she’d been excluded entirely. Her father commanded her not to attend. After Elyse’s brother died, Lysander was the sole heir of the dukedom. Her father treasured Lysander.

Elyse’s voice had cut like glass: "Your curse might taint the child. And with no children of your own after ten barren years, stay away! Your presence alone will harm the newborn."

The words had pierced her heart, reopening the wound of her childless marriage. Leroy had offered no shield, no comfort, leaving her to bear the shame alone. This was her life... endurance carved from isolation.

Yet Lysander’s smile now felt like a riddle, laced with doubt. Was it a mask for some hidden intent?

"I knew I’d find you here," he signed, his hands clumsy but earnest, as if he’d learned the gestures just for her.

Her throat tightened. Even Leroy had never bothered to learn sign language, but her brother had. A flicker of warmth stirred in her chest, fragile and fleeting, drowned by suspicion. Why now? Had her father sent him to force her away, clearing the path for Elyse to claim Leroy? Or was this a prelude to a darker threat; her life for their plans?

She stepped closer, the lamp’s glow illuminating Lysander’s face. His eyes locked on hers, and tears shimmered, spilling over like liquid regret. "I’m sorry," he signed, his hands trembling.

Then he seized her wrists, his grip tight and urgent, pressing her gloved hands to his forehead. "I’m sorry... I’m sorry..." His voice broke, a sob ripping through the stillness, raw and unguarded.

Lorraine’s heart pounded, confusion warring with dread. Why was he crying? What did this mean?

Fear coiled in her stomach, a serpent ready to strike. Was he plotting something sinister?

Before she could pull away, a rustle sliced through the night. The tall grass swayed, and the crunch of boots on brittle leaves echoed behind her. Deliberate. Close.

Her breath hitched, and her eyes widened.

Was Lysander luring her into a trap? Was this apology a confession before he silenced her forever?