CHAPTER 54: A CRACK IN HIS OBEDIENCE

Leroy had never raised his voice like that, not to her. Not to anyone. It wasn’t just a command. It was desperation. A scream from someone who had just crossed a line and didn’t know how to live with it.

Her knees trembled, but her heart... her heart went still.

Not because he yelled. Not because he looked ready to erupt.

Her heart went still as she felt peace. Because something inside her husband had been shaken, and that meant he was still alive in there. Not the hostage prince, not the pawn in royal games, but the man who had just defied his father.

And she would not run from that man, even if it would protect her.

Whatever had rattled him, whatever demons now clawed at his mind, this...this... was necessary.

Let him be angry. Let him scream. Let him think. He needed to feel this. To burn in it. Only then would he finally stop bowing to men who used his strength and his silence against him.

He needed to break free.

She would be gone soon. This sham of a marriage would be dissolved once her "death" was announced. But before she left, she could still offer him something no one else had ever offered him: a mirror.

Let him see the rot. Let him feel the weight of the crown he never got to claim. Let him remember that even the most broken prince still had a spine.

Her gaze narrowed.

He looked like he might hit her. There was rage enough in his posture to swing. His hands clenched at his sides, shoulders shaking, breathing ragged. His whole body radiated fury, and she was the closest and the easiest target.

But Lorraine didn’t step back.

She didn’t even blink.

She held her ground, staring him down with her sharp, ice-cutting gaze—unyielding, unreadable. Not defiant, not even proud. Just there.

I’m not going anywhere.

Her silence said it louder than words ever could.

If he needed someone to stand by his side when his own family wanted him on his knees, she would do it.

Not because she loved him. Not because he deserved it.

But because someone had to, and she had promised him long ago that she would be that "someone".

Leroy’s ears twitched.

Something about her stare, about the way she didn’t move, didn’t cower, didn’t flinch, infuriated him. His chest rose and fell like he couldn’t breathe. For a moment, it felt like they were standing on the edge of a blade, one move from everything falling apart.

And then...

Something broke.

Not his rage.

His eyes.

They softened. Just a little.

His breath slowed. His fists unclenched.

He looked at her, really looked at her, and she saw it: that quiet, devastating confusion beneath the anger. As if he couldn’t understand why she was still standing there. Why she

wasn’t disgusted... Why she wasn’t afraid...

A stalemate.

But Lorraine knew she’d won. Not the war. Not the marriage.

Just this moment.

Just enough for him to feel that someone had stayed. That he wasn’t alone in this pit he’d been thrown into. Not this time.

He had her. Even if he didn’t want her.

Meanwhile, the King observed everything and raised his dagger again. How could Leroy defy him?

"Alright, we are all tired. We can all agree on that, right, Father?"

The tension shattered like brittle glass as she hooked her arm around her father’s. Lucia’s sweet, poised voice rang out like a harp string plucked in the middle of a funeral.

Leroy’s face brightened up, seeing his sister’s smile. Lorraine bowed her head.

The sharpness in her gaze vanished behind her lashes, and when she looked up again, it was with a tremulous, polite smile. They all thought her a fool. A broken doll in a silken dress. That was fine. Let them.

She didn’t feel broken. She felt...oddly, triumphant.

Lucia had broken the moment. But it was Lorraine who’d withstood it.

The King’s stormy face began to ease, his chest no longer heaving with rage. The Queen rose, a carefully controlled grace in her movements, and moved toward her son. She bent slightly, fingers gentle as she helped Leroy up.

Lorraine rose on her own. Her legs were stiff, but steady. The dried blood on her forehead itched, but she did not reach for it. Gaston lingered behind, his face unreadable, shadows flickering in his gaze.

They left the room without another word.

And this time, Leroy walked behind her. She could feel it... His silence. His presence. Like a cloak trailing behind her, heavy and frayed at the edges.

Even in the carriage, he said nothing. Not a single glance her way. But she noticed his hands: fists clenched tight in his lap, knuckles bone-white. He rubbed at his forehead like the thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone.

Good, she thought. Let those thoughts stay with him.

-----

Inside the tavern, Gaston flicked a peanut shell off the table with disinterest before casting a glance at Lucia. She was meticulously picking bread crumbs from her lap, as if the mere existence of the tavern offended her sensibilities.

The King and Queen had long retreated to their chambers. The wine had thinned out, the servants had vanished, and the fire was low, but Gaston lingered, unable to shake the itch of curiosity.

"Father already had him," he said, leaning back lazily. "We could’ve had more fun. Why’d you stop?" He tilted his head with a smirk. "Don’t tell me... you’re pitying that imbecile woman he’s married to?"

Lucia didn’t respond at first. She merely smiled, an elegant, unreadable thing, before rising gracefully to her feet.

"I wanted to end it while he was still kneeling," she said softly, smoothing her skirt. "It’s more poetic that way."

Gaston frowned and stood as well, following her as she moved toward the hallway. "You think he is going to stand up?"

Lucia halted with a faint sigh and turned toward him, exasperated. "You see, Gaston," she said, "but you never observe, do you?"

He opened his mouth in mock offense, eyes widening. "Are you calling me a fool, sister?"

"Should I say it aloud?" she replied coolly, her gown’s train whispering across the grimy stone floor as she walked ahead.

Gaston grinned and caught up. "Dearest sister," he said, placing a hand dramatically on her shoulder, "is that not why I seek your counsel time and time again?"

She let out a quiet chuckle. He amused her, but not always in a flattering way.

"So tell me then," he prompted, his tone sharpening. "What could he possibly do? He’s powerless. That’s why you teased him, isn’t it? To have fun? And Father hated that you spoke during dinner. Father does love his quiet while eating."

This was not even the first time this had happened. Every time Lucia played this game, Leroy fell for it and got punished.

"Oh, he is powerless," Lucia agreed with a nod. "For now." But then her voice cooled. Her eyes lost their lazy gleam and narrowed with thought.

"Still..." she murmured, "I’d be careful around that wife of his."