Regina was utterly convinced that even after she pocketed the money, the Crown would bestow a new title upon Arlen.
She was proudly declaring her plan to have her cake and eat it, too.
Horrified, Arlen forced her trembling lips apart.
“Do you really think the Queen would not know about such a plan?
You will only incur her wrath!”
“You think I am afraid of that pathetic royal family?” Regina spat.
“They might disappear tomorrow for all I care, unable to even catch the rebels throwing this country into chaos.
When that day comes, what is the difference between that woman and me?”
It was unbelievable.
Regina truly believed this reckless scheme would work.
Her mad conviction scraped at Arlen’s already desolate heart.
“I don’t care what happens,” Regina hissed, her face contorted with malice.
“Whether your marriage is ruined or the reputation of that woman they call a queen is shattered.
We shall just have to see.”
If she could thoroughly torment the woman who held the royal family’s honor so dear, nothing else mattered.
Moisture gathered in Arlen’s shock-filled eyes.
The gentle stepmother she remembered was gone, replaced by this screaming, furious stranger.
The more Arlen pulled back, the closer Regina leaned in, her grip on the back of Arlen’s hand so tight it felt as if her skin would peel off.
“You should understand me.
You, my daughter, should avenge the insults this poor mother has received.”
Arlen’s eyes winced as her stepmother’s nails dug into her flesh.
“Is that not right…Your Highness, Crown Princess Arlen?”
Regina’s eyes gleamed with a bizarre light.
A wave of nausea rose in Arlen’s throat.
With all her might, she tore her hand away and fled.
Rushing from the mansion, Arlen walked aimlessly, with no destination in mind.
Her stomach churned as if her entire world were crumbling.
Everything was a mess.
A half-forgotten childhood promise was the root of this entire nightmare.
“What’s so great about being a damn Crown Princess anyway?”
A tear escaped and trickled down her cheek.
She should have grabbed a hat, she thought, biting her lip as her head drooped.
Having incurred the Queen’s wrath, she had no defense if the engagement was broken.
Not that she had ever wanted it.
She had only ever followed the wishes of her grandfather and father, men who held their family’s pride as the highest virtue.
But now they were gone.
Her dazed feet tripped, and her body swayed, but she didn’t stop.
Her eyes stung with unshed tears, a profound sense of being lost overwhelming her.
The city’s noise faded to a dull hum, her senses numb, when suddenly, her body was yanked backward.
“Look out!”
A hand clamped around her wrist, spinning her around.
Under the dazzling sunlight, there he was again.
‘Why is it that every time I feel like crying, I’m caught by this man?’ The thought flashed through her mind.
The next instant, a loud ‘thud’ echoed through the air.
A rough wind swept past, and a large shadow fell over her.
“You were careless.”
The low voice was calm, almost clinical.
The lids covering her violet eyes slowly grew moist.
She had followed the Duke to a luxurious café on Topaz Road, upstream from the canal that led to Clemont Harbor.
Guided to a private room, away from prying eyes, Arlen struggled to calm her trembling breath.
“Thank you for earlier.”
She had walked dazedly toward the tilting drawbridge, oblivious even to the warning signal that sounded before it began to rise.
If Liam, who happened to be in a stopped carriage nearby, hadn’t caught her in time, she might have fallen on the steep incline and been seriously injured.
“Have some tea first.”
Liam glanced at her, noting her lingering disorientation, and gracefully tilted a porcelain teapot.
A clear, purplish liquid flowed silently into a pristine white teacup.
Grateful for his consideration—he had remembered her grimace after drinking the coffee—Arlen forced a smile.
“The color is lovely.”
“It’s the Hermosa variety, harvested only from summer roses,” he explained, his eyes curving softly.
“The manager insisted on it, claiming it is a favorite among women.”
Seeing his relaxed demeanor, she felt a sliver of relief.
Perhaps she hadn’t made a mistake after all.
It seemed he wasn’t angry.
“It is still hot,” he cautioned.
“Take your time.”
Arlen drew back slightly from the fragrant steam rising from the tea.
A panoramic view of the canal, which cut through Edel before flowing into the Atlantic, filled the expansive plate-glass window.
Arlen’s gaze drifted toward it, her eyes following the bustling crowds boarding a large ship in the distance.
Liam noticed she had yet to touch her teacup.
“Are you still disturbed?” he asked gently.
“No, I am fine now.”
“That proposal you mentioned—if it is formally submitted, I shall consider it.”
Arlen, who had been looking downcast, glanced up, her expression clearing as her heart gave a sudden lurch.
She had never dared to hope he would bring up the subject himself.
“Does that… mean you are willing to help?”
“I can make no promises.”
At his words, the weight on her heart seemed to lift.
A wave of reassurance washed over her, as if she had found a reliable ally, and a touch of color returned to her somber cheeks.
“Your Grace, if you lend your support, it would be an immense help.
I have heard that someone trustworthy is preparing the bill, so it should be proposed soon.”
For now, she could set aside the matter of her marriage, which was sure to anger the Queen.
If she could at least prevent her family’s estate from falling into someone else’s hands, she could stop Regina from making any more unjust demands of the royal family.
“I shall be sure to repay you for your help.”
“And how do you know what I will ask for in return?”
“Pardon?” Arlen blinked, caught off guard.
She had not expected him to demand payment so quickly.
The early spring sunlight pooled in her large, violet eyes.
Reading the momentary wariness that flickered across her face, Liam offered a faint, teasing smile.
“I will let you know when I think of something.”
Arlen’s expression remained puzzled, but Liam simply let the corner of his mouth curve upward.
Arlen excused herself and left the private room.
The ladies’ lounge was on the floor below.
As she walked toward the stairs, a man sitting at a nearby table stood abruptly, bumping her shoulder.
He tugged at the edge of his grey beret and gave a slight nod in apology.
Arlen replied with a short bow of her own, catching a faint floral scent in the air.
‘Peonies?’ She glanced up at the subtle fragrance, but the man had already vanished.
Tilting her head, Arlen entered the lounge, where several ladies had already claimed a large sofa and were touching up their makeup.
She found a spot in a spacious corner and glanced at her reflection in her compact mirror.
“Can you believe someone still wears a dress like that?”
“She must be from the countryside.
No woman from Edel would dare come here wearing ruffles like a rooster’s comb.”
“How on earth did she even get in here?”
Heat flooded Arlen’s cheeks.
It was her dress that had drawn their scornful whispers.
Pretending she had not heard, she calmly adjusted her attire.
Soon, the women departed.
Just as Arlen turned to leave as well, she heard a ripping sound.
“Oh…” Turning before the mirror, she saw it: a long tear in the ruffle on the back of her dress.
Panic flared in her eyes.
‘What do I do?’ She was not ashamed of her dress being out of fashion, but a ruined gown was another matter altogether.
Alone, with no one to ask for a needle and thread, Arlen fretted.
Then, a polite knock sounded at the door.
“Miss Sermont.”
It was the Duke.
He must have come looking for her, concerned by her long absence.
Her mind racing, Arlen bit her lip as a second, more insistent knock came.
She turned the doorknob.
“Pardon my intrusion,” he said, stepping inside.
“You were taking some time.
Are you feeling unwell?”
“Well, it’s just…” Liam watched her quietly as she stammered, trying to hide the tear from his view.
His gaze shifted downward.
Suddenly, a heavy frock coat was draped over her shoulders.
“Oh.
I am fine, really.”
“I am not giving it to you,” he said flatly.
“It is merely a loan until I have a new dress brought for you.”
“I could not possibly impose, Your Grace.
If you could just bring me a needle and thread… I can fix it.”
“Before you protest, perhaps you should consider my position.
I am the one with a partner in a torn dress.”
He pressed the coat into her hands, overriding her adamant refusal, and turned her around.
His tone was brusque, yet today he was unusually kind, almost gentle.
It was the first time his cool, gray-blue eyes had seemed so warm.
“Ah… right… Thank you.” Clutching the coat, Arlen offered a shy smile.
Breathing in his cool, refreshing scent, she followed him out, searching for something to say to break the awkward silence.
“It seems peonies have already bloomed in Edel.
In Nortonburg, we would still have to wait another month.”
“Peonies?”
Liam opened his mouth, a puzzled look on his face.
They took a few more steps, and then—
‘CRASH!’
The ground shook violently.
The console at the end of the hallway rattled with a deafening clamor.
They both froze, their eyes locking in shared shock.
Before they could process what was happening, a crack shot across the ceiling, splitting wide as it raced down the hallway.
The enormous chandelier, which had been swaying menacingly, tore free and plunged toward them, filling their entire vision.
Chapter 3: Midnight Olivia