CHAPTER 49: ARRIVAL OF HIS FAMILY

Wh–what?!

Lorraine’s breath caught as fire bloomed low in her belly. She reached up to push him away by the arm, but he didn’t budge. His mouth found hers again, slower this time. A kiss that wasn’t hungry or demanding, just unbearably tender. He drank her in like he was parched. Like he didn’t know if he’d ever get to taste her again.

Her hands dropped to her sides.

And she stood there, heart thundering, while the man who had never once confessed how he truly felt, kissed her like she was the only thing anchoring him to this world.

Her cheeks flamed. Her chest rose and fell. Not from shock. Not from shame.

From him.

But... No. She couldn’t let herself believe it. Not now. Not after everything. She didn’t want to fall for something he’d forget by morning.

And as if confirming her fears, he pulled back. The kiss ended, but he didn’t move away. Instead, his arms came around her shoulders, quietly, warmly, and trembling as he buried his face into her neck, drawing her into the shelter of his frame. Like she was someone safe. Like he needed her protection.

She should have been angry.

But how could she, when he held her like this? When his breath trembled against her hair, and his arms tightened around her like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go?

She couldn’t throw him out.

Silently, she walked them to the bed. He followed without a word, not leaning on her fully. When she sat down, he folded beside her, his head finding her chest, clinging to her like a boy who had weathered too many storms.

His arms were still wrapped around her neck.

And she let him lean on her, with her arms around his head, securing him in a loving embrace. He might never know it, but she did love him with all her heart.

-----

In the morning, Lorraine finally understood the possible reason behind her husband’s strange behavior the night before.

His family was in Vaeloria.

The royal family of Kaltharion had arrived quietly, without ceremony. So quietly that not even her spies had caught wind of it until they had reached here. No one was officially informed of their arrival yet. Which meant either they were summoned in secret... or the emperor had not been informed at all. An unannounced visit. A private audience. A plan in motion.

She had never met them properly. There was a brief, cold introduction during the wedding—his parents, his sister, and the cousin the household had adopted as their own. They’d exchanged pleasantries, no more. No warmth. No curiosity. Not even the pretense of familial welcome.

Even at sixteen, Lorraine had sensed something off.

She’d learned to read lips, to decode expressions, to watch people when they thought no one watched. Her ears had turned sharp, but even without them, she could still hear the truth in what wasn’t said.

And from the Kaltharion family, what she read was... disdain.

Perhaps it wasn’t personal. Perhaps it was simply pride, bruised by the shame of bowing to Vaeloria, of watching their once-great kingdom become a vassal after the broken River Pact. Maybe they resented her father, who was, after all, the very man rumored to have pushed the emperor to betray that pact. The very man whose daughter, silent and unable to speak, had become the bride of their heir, a situation that felt like a profound humiliation in itself.

She understood their contempt. Even accepted it.

But it still stung.

Leroy, too, seemed distant from them. Detached. Except, perhaps, for his sister. And even then, something lingered; something dark and unspoken. She remembered how the first time they met, Leroy had flinched. As if expecting her to hurt him.

She never forgot that.

He never said anything, but she saw it, felt it. There were ghosts between him and that family of his. The kind that lived in childhood silence, and unexplained bruises.

And now they were here. Secretly.

Her fingers curled into the velvet armrest as Emma gently massaged her temples, her touch light, patient. Lorraine closed her eyes, willing herself to stay composed. She loved Emma. The girl was young, but remarkably gentle; one of the few who made Lorraine feel cared for, without pity.

But her mind didn’t quiet.

Had she stirred a hornet’s nest too recklessly? Had she overstepped? Was this the result of her defying her father?

What if this was all part of a bigger scheme to push Elyse into Leroy’s life again?

Just then, Sylvia stepped into the room, fingers twisting anxiously.

"Sylvia..." Lorraine murmured without opening her eyes. "What is it?"

Sylvia hesitated before stepping forward. She wasn’t even sure the princess had noticed her slip into the room; yet of course, she had. Lorraine always noticed.

Why did that still surprise her?

"The steward of the grand duke’s mansion," Sylvia said slowly, "Seraphina is refusing to spend the night with him."

Lorraine’s eyes snapped open.

So, it had come to this.

Lorraine had heard that the steward was after Seraphina. She had allowed it, encouraged it, even. Not because she trusted the man, but because she needed a way into her father’s secrets. The dungeons of the grand mansion held something... something her shinobi had failed to uncover. They’d found nothing but stone and stillness.

Which only proved how well her father had hidden whatever it was.

Seraphina had been her quiet weapon. Elegant. Sharp. Disarming. And her placement was critical.

That the plan had failed, she could accept. Such things happened.

But that Seraphina had defied Lazira?

That she could not

.

Lazira, the woman Lorraine became when she wanted to walk through dark wearing poison. The courtesan queen of the silken underworld. The maker of names and destroyer of debts.

Lorraine had liked but never trusted her favorite.

Seraphina had always been slippery—too proud, too dazzling. And Lazira had always known that glitter was a dangerous thing to polish.

But once... she had been different.

Seven years ago, Seraphina had been nothing more than a broken girl in a red-light gutter. Bruised, half-starved, and staring into nothing. Lorraine had found her, shaped her, named her beauty, and taught her how to wield it like a blade.

And now?

Now Seraphina believed she could turn that blade against her.

Foolish, ungrateful girl. How quickly they forgot who gave them the crown they wore.

"She’s garnered Lord Florian’s support," Sylvia said carefully. "He’s promised to pay her Bond Silver and marry her. Now she thinks... she owes Lazira nothing."

Emma snorted. "How convenient. Someone flashes a few coins, and suddenly loyalty doesn’t matter?"

Sylvia stayed silent. She knew this wouldn’t be easy for the princess. Seraphina had been one of her first girls. Lorraine had always gone softer on her.

But this couldn’t be ignored.

When courtesans turned their backs on Lazira, they didn’t walk away unscathed. Loyalty wasn’t just a virtue; in Lazira’s presence, it was survival.

Still, Sylvia wouldn’t have brought this to Lorraine if it had been anyone else. But Seraphina... she’d crossed a line.

Lorraine’s voice was calm when she spoke. "I’ll meet her and decide."

She gave Emma a small signal to continue the massage, reclining once more, closing her eyes.

Sylvia hesitated. A meeting could be seen as a negotiation. A chance for Seraphina to twist the narrative. To say she was too valuable, too irreplaceable, to punish. That Lazira needed her. There was also the risk of Seraphina turning the nobles against

But Sylvia knew better than to argue. She bowed her head.

"The tower sent news," she began.

"The tower?" Lorraine’s lips curved to a smirk as she opened her eyes.

Then came a knock at the door.