Page 43 of Lost Heir
With a parting glare, Caelan retreated, his departure leaving a charged silence in his wake. I turned to Ronan, frustration boiling over. “What wasthatabout?” I demanded. “Why would you taunt him like that? I thought this was supposed to be a secret!”
Ronan's stance was defiant, a mixture of protective fervor and anger. “He needed to be put in his place, Leila. He can’t go around claiming to be your future husband!” Ronan shouted before licking the blood on his cut lip. “I’m sorry if it offends you, but when it comes to him, I won’t keep quiet.”
Ronan stomped back to his rooms in the Northern palace. I started to follow, only to be halted by Tessa'scautioning hand. “Your Highness, you shouldn’t enter the Northern palace. Others are watching.”
Glancing around, I caught the curious stares of a dozen courtiers, their presence a stifling reminder of the palace's ever-watchful gaze. The realization that our confrontation would fuel tomorrow's gossip over breakfast trays settled heavily upon me.
“Let’s go before anyone else sees me,” I whispered, urgency lacing my words. With Tessa and Viktor by my side, we retreated to the safety of the Eastern palace, away from prying eyes and whispered judgments.
14
The struggle to rise the next morning was monumental, a battle against my body's demand for rest after a tumultuous night of restless thoughts and fragmented sleep. Tessa, in her infinite pragmatism, deemed it necessary to employ a rather startling wake-up call, resorting to drenching me with water to ensure my punctuality for the family breakfast. The echoes of last evening's confrontations, particularly the unresolved tensions between Ronan and Caelan, left a palpable shadow, casting dark circles under my eyes as silent witnesses to my internal turmoil.
Sure, I knew Ronan was angry and he had every right to be. Especially when it came to Caelan. I’d forgiven him one too many times in the Central Plains. As I looked back on those days, even I was frustrated with myself for giving him the benefit of the doubt. But things were different now. He had to know they were different.
Shuffling along, I let Tessa dress me while half asleep. Once she was done arranging my hair, I was promptly escorted to the dining hall in the Central palace where mymother, Marcellus, and Caelan were undoubtedly already waiting to have breakfast.
When I entered the dining hall, I was surprised to see my father seated at the head of the table.
“Good morning, Lyanna!” His voice, warm with the joy of reunion, greeted me as I settled into my designated seat, surrounded by family yet isolated by the silent undercurrents of recent events. “I thought I’d join you all today. I have much to do, and I didn’t know if I’d have time to see you otherwise.”
While he wasn’t consistent, my father did try to see me often and spend time with me. Out of everyone at this table, he was the only one I truly thought had missed me over the last ten years.
“No worries.” I offered a broad smile and sat down, taking the napkin and spreading it across my lap. “I didn’t sleep well last night, so it was a bit difficult to wake up this morning. Apologies for my tardiness,” I said honestly.
My father frowned. “Are you unwell? Has this been recurring? I’ll have the palace healer send you some valerian root at night to help you sleep.”
“I’m fine, honestly. I just think with all the celebration from the recent days, I’m just fatigued,” I lied, attempting to deflect his worry. “The valerian root should help.”
My father nodded. “Good, good. You would know more about that than I do,” he chuckled. “I heard you might be interested in working in the infirmary—”
“Absolutely not!” my mother interjected, her glare cutting through the morning's tentative peace. “A princess, working with the ill? No. We cannot have that.”
I looked over at my father, who sighed in resignation. “Well … we can discuss this more later. We don’t have to make decisions right away—”
“Malik!” she yelled.
He slammed his fist on the table hard enough to make the silverware rattle. “Enough, Derinda!” he shouted, his voice booming throughout the dining hall. “I said enough,” he said softer, lowering his voice.
I peered over at Marcellus beside me, but he only shrugged. Our parents never used to fight, and I’d like to assume that ten years later they still didn’t. My father generally gave in to my mother’s whims to avoid conflict, but it seemed he’d had enough of her in recent days.
My mother cleared her throat. “All I was saying,” she said a bit gentler, “is that Lyanna should not risk getting sick. She’s only just returned to us.” She looked over at me from across the table knowingly. She wanted me to agree with her.
“Mother might have a point,” I conceded as I stared down at my empty plate. Breakfast hadn’t even been served and we were already at each other’s throats. “For now, I’ll avoid the infirmary unless it’s necessary.”
My father sighed. “If you wish, Lyanna.” He glanced at Caelan, who sat beside my mother. “Caelan, I know what you want. I’m just not sure I can give it to you.”
Caelan turned his shrewd gaze to my father and smiled politely. “No decisions need to be made right away. I would be content with an engagement for now.”
My father cleared his throat. “Well …”
“She doesn’t like you, Caelan. Why are you forcing the issue?” Marcellus barked abruptly.
“Marcellus!” my mother chided. “Mind your tongue!”
“Marcel is right,” my father said. “We need to take Lyanna’s feelings into consideration. I refuse to force my children into political marriages.”
My mother turned her icy stare my way. “Of course thisis what Lyanna wants. Isn’t that right, dear?” She stared me down and willed me to agree with her once more.
