Chapter 6

Prince Laurent stood alone on the balcony, one hand resting against the stone railing as the music from the ballroom drifted faintly behind him.

Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.

A quiet, amused laugh escaped him as he shook his head.

"She really left me there."

He could still remember the way Elowen had suddenly excused herself, her expression changing the moment she heard that Nathaniel had returned.

Most ladies would have been delighted to have the prince's attention.

Yet Elowen had simply walked away.

Laurent laughed again.

"How interesting."

He looked toward the ballroom, his eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity.

"She didn't even look back."

There was no irritation in his voice.

If anything, he seemed entertained.

For the first time that evening, Prince Laurent found himself wondering just how different Duke Ravelle's daughter truly was from the girl everyone had described to him.

Meanwhile, Elowen was almost frantically searching through the ballroom for her father.

Her eyes moved from one group of nobles to another, barely acknowledging the greetings thrown her way.

Where is Father?

Finally, she spotted Duke Alistair.

He was standing among several nobles, completely at ease, a glass in his hand as he laughed along with them.

Elowen stopped.

She stared at him in disbelief.

How can he be laughing at a time like this?

Her father looked perfectly calm, as though nothing unusual had happened tonight.

Elowen immediately walked toward him.

"Father."

The moment Elowen approached, she heard his voice carrying across the conversation.

"My godson has done remarkably well," he said proudly. "Nathaniel distinguished himself on the battlefield and returned as a war hero."

Several nobles nodded in agreement.

"One should expect great things from the young Lord Ashbourne."

Duke Alistair laughed, clearly enjoying the attention.

"And soon," he added with a proud smile, "he won't merely be my godson."

He raised his glass. "He'll be my son-in-law."

The nobles immediately exchanged amused looks.

"A perfect match between the Ravelle and Ashbourne families."

"Indeed. They've known each other since childhood, haven't they?"

"A marriage between two such powerful duchies would strengthen both families."

Elowen stood behind them, utterly stunned.

Son-in-law?

Her fingers slowly curled into her palm.

Her father was announcing it as though her marriage to Nathaniel had already been decided.

"Father."

Her voice cut through the laughter.

Duke Alistair turned toward her, his face immediately brightening.

"There you are!"

He gestured toward her proudly.

"Everyone, this is my daughter, Elowen"

The nobles laughed warmly.

Elowen forced a smile.

But inside, her thoughts were spiraling.

She had spent years trying to change the future.

Yet somehow, Nathaniel's return had brought the future she wanted to escape rushing straight toward her.

"Father."

Elowen's voice was quieter this time.

Duke Alistair turned toward her, his proud smile fading when he noticed her expression.

"What is it, Elowen?"

"Can we go home?"

He blinked. "Home? Already?"

Elowen nodded. "I'm not feeling well. I think I should rest."

Alistair's brows furrowed immediately. "Are you ill?"

"No. Not really." She forced a small smile. "I'm just tired. The ballroom is getting a little overwhelming."

Her father studied her face carefully.

A moment ago, she had looked perfectly fine.

Now she seemed pale and distant.

"Then you should have told me sooner," he said, his voice softening. "Of course we'll go home."

He turned toward the nobles.

"Gentlemen, forgive me. My daughter needs her rest."

One of the nobles smiled knowingly.

"Of course, Duke Ravelle. Take care."

Alistair, however, simply laughed.

"Come, Elowen." He offered his arm.

She hesitated for a moment before taking it.

As they began walking away from the ballroom, Elowen lowered her gaze.

She didn't want to hear another word about Nathaniel.

Not tonight.

She only wanted to go home—to breathe, think, and figure out what had gone wrong with the future she thought she knew.

As Elowen and Duke Alistair made their way toward the palace entrance, they encountered the King surrounded by several distinguished nobles.

Duke Alistair immediately slowed his steps. "Your Majesty."

Elowen curtsied beside him. "Your Majesty."

The King smiled when he saw them.

"Leaving already, Duke Ravelle?"

"My daughter isn't feeling well," Alistair explained. "She needs to rest."

The King looked toward Elowen with concern. "Is that so, Lady Elowen?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. I apologize for leaving early."

"There is nothing to apologize for. You should rest."

Elowen lowered her head. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

After exchanging their final courtesies, Duke Alistair bowed deeply.

As they turned toward the exit, she finally allowed herself to breathe.

From the balcony above, a pair of eyes quietly followed them.

Stood alone against the stone railing, watching as Elowen walked beside her father toward the waiting carriage.

She said something to Duke Alistair, and the older man answered with a gentle smile.

A moment later, Elowen stepped into the carriage.

Her father followed after her.

The coachman closed the door, and the horses shifted impatiently beneath the reins.

He watched the carriage begin to move away from the palace, its wheels rolling slowly across the courtyard.

His lips curved into a faint smile.

"So she really left."

A quiet presence approached from behind.

A royal knight stopped several steps away before lowering himself into a respectful bow.

"Your Highness."

Prince Laurent glanced over his shoulder.

"The Queen requests your presence."

Laurent raised an eyebrow.

"My mother?"

"Yes, Your Highness. Her Majesty is waiting for you."

Laurent looked once more toward the palace gates where Elowen's carriage had disappeared.

A faint smile returned to his lips.

"Of course she is."

He straightened from the railing and adjusted his coat.

"Lead the way."

The knight bowed again.

"As you command, Your Highness."

The knight led Laurent through a quieter corridor of the palace before stopping before an unoccupied sitting room.

He opened the door. Inside, the Queen sat alone.

A glass of wine rested on the table before her. Between her fingers was a lit cigar, its thin trail of smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling.

Laurent stepped inside.

The knight bowed and quietly closed the door behind him.

Laurent stopped several feet before his mother.

The Queen took a slow drag from her cigar before setting it aside.

Her eyes remained fixed on him. "You heard the news, right?"

Laurent's expression became more serious. "Which news?"

The Queen gave him a knowing look.

"Don't play innocent with me, Laurent."

She lifted her glass and took a small sip.

" Ashbourne has returned."

Laurent said nothing.

The Queen continued. "Victorious from the war. The court is already calling him a hero."

For a moment, the room fell silent.

Then Laurent calmly asked, "And why did you summon me to tell me this?"

Laurent remained standing before her, his expression calm.

"I don't see anything wrong with Ashbourne receiving public praise," the Queen said, taking another sip of her wine. "He fought in the war and returned victorious. Let the people celebrate him."

A faint smile appeared on her lips. "But you…"

She looked at her son with unmistakable pride.

"You are still extraordinary in your own way."

Laurent raised an eyebrow. "Thank you, Mother."

The Queen's smile suddenly disappeared.

She slammed her glass onto the table.

"But why am I hearing absolutely nothing about my own son getting married?!"

Her voice echoed through the empty room. A random rant.

Laurent blinked.

The Queen pointed at him, visibly irritated.

"You're already old enough to be giving me grandchildren, yet somehow every noble family seems more interested in discussing their children's wedding than yours!"

Laurent sighed quietly.

"So that is why you summoned me."

"Of course it is!"

She picked up her cigar again, taking an irritated drag.

Laurent rubbed his temple. "I have no plans to marry."

The Queen stared at him.

Laurent looked at her in silence.

The Queen leaned back in her chair, narrowing her eyes at her son.

"I have already sent princesses and young noblewomen to your chambers," she said sharply.

Laurent's expression remained unreadable.

She took another drag from her cigar. "And even slaves."

Laurent's eyes finally hardened. "Mother."

The Queen waved a hand dismissively.

"And yet," she snapped, "you dismiss every single one of them."

Laurent said nothing.

The Queen stared at him for several seconds before letting out an exasperated sigh.

"Tell me, Laurent. What exactly are you looking for?"

Laurent didn't hesitate. "Nothing."

The Queen's expression went blank.

"Laurent."

He remained perfectly calm.

"I don't need a wife just because the court expects one."

The Queen stared at her son, clearly fighting the urge to throw something at him.

Then she let out a long breath and leaned back in her chair.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The Queen took another slow drag from her cigar before asking casually,

"Then what do you think of Lady Elowen?"

Laurent paused.

His hand, which had been resting near his coat, stilled.

He slowly turned his head toward his mother. "Elowen?"

The Queen smiled faintly. "Yes. Lady Elowen Ravelle."

Laurent was silent for a moment.

"She's just fair."

The Queen slowly raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing more." Laurent's answer was so casual.

He turned toward the door.

"She is Duke Ravelle's daughter. That's all."

He gave her a respectful bow before opening the door. "Good night Mother, Rest well"

Laurent stepped out, quietly closing the door behind him.