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Chapter 21

  I was still lost in thought when, suddenly, I felt a strong pull on my wrist.

  Before I could react, I realized that Crown Prince Alaric was standing behind me, a sharp sword pressed against my neck—using me as a hostage.

  At that moment, Duke of Braedon, a man in his seventies, entered the grand hall. Despite the chaos before him, his face remained calm and composed. He walked up to the late king’s coffin, solemnly lighting three sticks of incense.

  Crown Prince Alaric tightened his grip on my shoulder, his sharp gaze like a blade as he stared at Duke of Braedon.

  “Duke of Braedon, you’ve brought soldiers into the palace. Isn’t this treason? If so, then let your adopted daughter be the first to fall!”

  Duke of Braedon turned around, his eyes locking onto mine. Slowly, he lowered his gaze and spoke in a deep, unwavering voice:

  “Your Highness should be careful with your words. I have no children, no heirs—how could I commit treason? But this young lady, the one you hold at swordpoint, is someone Your Highness absolutely cannot kill. She is the long-lost princess, the daughter of Consort Thorne.”

  Spring Myles gasped in shock.

  Crown Prince Alaric clenched the hilt of his sword tighter, his voice seething with fury. “Impossible!”

  Duke of Braedon slowly turned his gaze toward Duke Rowan. “Your Highness was there that year. You saw what happened.”

  The night before, I had secretly left the city to meet Duke of Braedon. I had brought with me the bracelet that Arianne left behind before her death and told him everything about what had happened.

  “That night, I could have saved her from the Thorne Estate, but her child was already seven months along. The turmoil was too much for her to bear. She told me she had misjudged the people around her, that she had betrayed her own father. Yet, even if she had to die, she wanted to protect the child.”

  Duke of Braedon sat inside his tent, his hands tightly clutching the bracelet. His weathered face showed no emotion, but silent tears rolled down. His voice, thick with grief, trembled as he spoke:

  “She was always such a good daughter…”

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  After a long pause, he wiped his tears and took a deep breath. Though his voice still shook, it was firm. “And where is the child now?”

  I lifted my cup of tea, blowing gently before taking a sip.

  “It was a boy,” I answered. “His name is Arthur Myles, Arthur Braedon. Don’t worry, my lord—I’ve sent him somewhere safe, where no one will find him, and no one will be able to harm him.”

  I looked at the people around the tent, signaling Duke of Braedon with my eyes. He quickly suppressed his grief and coldly ordered everyone to leave the room.

  Once we were alone, I continued.

  “My lord, I’ve heard rumors about what’s been on your mind. But life is unpredictable. You are already seventy—how many years could you truly rule as king? Today, I didn’t come because you summoned me. I came to negotiate.”

  I took another sip of tea and spoke calmly.

  “A foster daughter will never compare to a real one. But your real daughter is gone, and in that case… isn’t a foster daughter the closest thing left? My lord, rather than supporting someone else, why not push me to the throne? My parents died long ago, so I have no family of my own. I will respect you as my father and honor you as the Royal Father. When you pass away, I will posthumously name you Emperor. Wouldn’t that fulfill your wish?”

  Duke of Braedon remained silent for a long time. Then, he spoke coldly.

  “And if I don’t consider this?”

  I let out a soft laugh and sighed.

  “Then the child that Arianne sacrificed her life to protect will no longer matter. My lord, you may get to taste the power of being Emperor, but you’ll still have to carefully choose a successor. A kingdom isn’t like an ordinary family business—fathers kill sons, brothers slaughter each other, wives betray husbands. Who’s to say that an adopted child would be a worse successor than your own grandson?”

  I turned to leave, but before I could take even a few steps, a wall of swords blocked my way, forcing me to step back.

  “My lord, you’ve made your decision so quickly?” I kept my voice steady, speaking clearly for all to hear.

  “Isn’t it better for your family to be together, for your descendants to thrive? That child—Arthur—is the grandson Arianne sacrificed her life for! She cut open her own belly to ensure he would live. Can you truly turn your back on him?”

  Duke of Braedon gritted his teeth, suddenly crushing the tea cup in his palm. He pressed his hand over the shattered porcelain, then slowly brushed the shards off the table.

  “Let her go.”

  With the Duke of Braedon’s decree, all eyes turned toward Duke Rowan.

  Duke Rowan sighed and finally spoke.

  “The fate of the lost princess remains uncertain.”

  He seemed lost in thought, recalling events from over a decade ago. His gaze drifted into the distance.

  “That year, I saw it myself. On the great river, a small wooden boat swayed and gradually sank. Just as it was about to disappear completely, a wave overturned the boat. The baby’s swaddling cloth slipped into the water. At that moment, we considered going back, but for a brief second, it seemed as if the infant’s hand had reached out—as though she had awakened, choking on water. But the sight was unclear. Consort Thorne insisted she heard a cry and spent days searching along the riverbanks.”

  Duke of Braedon added, “Afterward, His Majesty sent people to search the lower reaches of the river for three months. But no body was ever found.”

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