Fated Eclipse: The Illegitimate Princess And Her Alpha Suitors

Chapter 373: The Cancelled Date

Benedict had been thoroughly prepared for his date with Princess Lyria.

He had risen earlier than usual that morning, and despite his best efforts to behave as though the day were of little consequence, anticipation had settled within him like a quiet hum.

He had even selected a bouquet of flowers.

That, in itself, was rather embarrassing.

Benedict had never considered himself particularly knowledgeable where flowers were concerned. He knew their names when necessary and could distinguish one from another if given sufficient time, but he had no idea which varieties Princess Lyria preferred.

In the end, he had selected those that appeared the most vibrant.

The most alive.

He could only hope she would like them.

He intended to apologise to her.

Properly, this time.

He had left her far too abruptly during their previous date. He had fled like a coward when he ought to have remained and explained himself, and the more he thought about it, the more dissatisfied he became with his own behaviour.

If she wished to strike him for it, he would permit it.

Indeed, he might even tell her so.

Then, after she had taken her satisfaction, he would teach her how to defend herself properly.

Not merely how to throw a punch.

There were numerous methods by which a person could protect themselves, and given what had transpired during the previous competition, Benedict had become increasingly convinced that Princess Lyria required every advantage she could acquire.

A punch could hardly be expected to solve every difficulty one might encounter within the palace.

Some dangers required considerably more subtlety.

He had therefore selected some of his finest training attire for the afternoon. He had intended to spend part of the date teaching her several techniques and perhaps, if she permitted him, discussing the various ways in which she might protect herself without attracting unnecessary attention.

He wanted to show how sincere he was to her.

That his abrupt departure had not been because he regretted spending time with her.

Quite the contrary.

That was precisely the difficulty.

He had shaved earlier that morning, humming quietly as he did so. The razor had passed smoothly along his jaw, leaving his face clean and presentable.

He had even summoned his valet, Gerrard, and instructed him to trim his hair.

Gerrard had given him a peculiar look.

Benedict had ignored it.

He wanted to look his best.

There was no shame in making an effort for a lady one intended to court.

At least, that was what he told himself.

He had been in remarkably high spirits that morning.

Then, shortly before he was due to depart, a knock sounded upon his chamber door.

Benedict glanced towards it.

"Enter."

Peter appeared in the doorway.

His guard looked unusually hesitant.

Benedict immediately noticed.

"What is it?"

Peter stepped into the chamber and bowed.

"My lord, I beg your pardon for disturbing you, but I have received word concerning today’s arrangement."

Benedict’s expression changed slightly.

"What arrangement?"

"Your date, my lord. It is no longer to be held with Princess Lyria."

Benedict stared at him.

"What?"

Peter cleared his throat.

"The arrangement has been altered. You are now expected to attend upon Princess Jacinta."

Benedict slowly lowered the flowers he had been holding.

Benedict’s brow furrowed.

Perhaps Princess Lyria was angry with him.

The thought came immediately.

She had every reason to be.

He had abandoned her during their last date without offering so much as a proper explanation. Perhaps she had decided she did not wish to see him again.

It would be entirely reasonable.

He disliked the thought nevertheless.

"Was a reason given for Princess Lyria’s absence?"

Peter nodded.

"The messenger stated that Her Highness has taken ill."

Benedict’s expression altered.

Ill?

Again?

She had been unwell not long ago.

He had been concerned about her then, and now she had apparently fallen ill once more on the very day they were meant to meet.

Something about it struck him as distinctly peculiar.

"Are you certain that was the message?"

"Yes, my lord."

Benedict was silent for a moment.

Then he looked towards Peter.

"Was the message delivered on behalf of the princess herself?"

Peter hesitated.

"I cannot say with certainty."

Benedict waited.

Peter lowered his voice.

"Though, if I may speak frankly, my lord, I rather doubt it. The messenger spoke as though the order had come from the Queen’s household."

Benedict’s jaw tightened.

He had suspected as much.

Princess Lyria’s illness was simply too convenient.

He looked down at the flowers in his hand.

A moment ago, he had been considering whether she would like them.

Now he wondered whether she would even be permitted to see them.

"This will not do," he murmured.

Benedict placed the flowers carefully upon the table.

"Contact our sources. I wish to know what has actually occurred. If Her Highness is genuinely ill, I would know the nature of her illness. And if she is not..."

His voice trailed off.

There was no need to finish the sentence.

Peter understood.

"I shall see to it immediately."

He bowed once more and withdrew.

---

The news travelled quickly through the palace.

Lucian received it with a frown.

For several moments he simply stared at the messenger as though waiting for the man to correct himself.

Princess Lyria had taken ill.

Again.

Lucian found that difficult to believe.

She had only recently recovered from her previous illness, and the timing of this one was suspiciously convenient.

His expression hardened.

"Did the palace physician confirm this?"

The messenger hesitated.

"I was not informed of such details, Your Grace."

Lucian gave a quiet hum.

That answer told him considerably more than the messenger probably intended.

"Very well."

He dismissed the man with a slight gesture.

Once the door closed, Lucian turned to his valet.

He did not believe the story.

Not for a moment.

There was only one means by which he could determine the truth.

He would have to contact his sources.

---

Baron Redwick received the news with similar displeasure.

He frowned deeply.

Kathryn had always provided him with discreet reports concerning the princess’s condition. She did not tell him everything, naturally, but she had never failed to mention anything that might reasonably concern him or Duke Valenridge.

And now Princess Lyria was apparently ill again.

Kathryn had said nothing.

That alone was enough to make Redwick suspicious.

He summoned Edmund.

When his valet entered, Redwick folded his hands behind his back.

"Edmund."

"Yes, my lord?"

"I want you to ascertain what has happened to Her Highness."

Edmund’s expression became serious.

"At once, my lord."

"And exercise discretion."

"Of course."

Edmund bowed and withdrew.

Redwick remained by the window, his expression thoughtful.

---

Duke Thorncrest received the news too.

Unlike the others, he merely chuckled.

"Ill?"

Ellis, his valet stood before him.

"That is what we have been told, Your Grace."

Thorncrest smiled faintly.

"How remarkably convenient."

He had never been particularly fond of coincidences.

Especially not palace coincidences.

"Confirm it."

The valet bowed.

"Yes, Your Grace."

The duke turned his attention back towards the hearth.

He was almost certain the report was false.

But certainty was a luxury he did not indulge in without evidence.

---

Duke Valenridge was still asleep when the news arrived.

For that reason, neither Dorian, Tommy nor Robin disturbed him.

Dorian and Robin exchanged a glance.

"Do you believe it?" Dorian asked quietly.

Robin shook his head.

"Not particularly."

"Nor do I."

They were silent for a moment.

Then Dorian sighed.

"We ought to make enquiries."

Robin nodded.

"Discreetly."

"Naturally."

Neither man wished to alarm their master unnecessarily, particularly when the duke had only recently managed to rest after the events of the competition.

Still, this was suspicious.

"I shall contact our sources." Tommy spoke up.

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