Fated Hearts: Reborn to be His Duchess

Chapter 28: Chapter 28: A Heart Untethered

As a child, Elysia had often stood on a stool in Hartwell Manor’s kitchens, eyes wide with fascination as her aunt transformed ordinary ingredients into fragrant pastries and delicate sweets.

Back then, every recipe had seemed like magic.

Now, those memories felt as though they belonged to another lifetime.

Perhaps because they did.

"Aunt..." Elysia’s voice softened. "Do you think... maybe I’m simply not someone worth loving?"

The words escaped before she could stop them.

For a moment, the kitchen fell silent.

Imogen reached across the table and gently took her hand.

"Elysia."

Her tone carried the same warmth it always had.

"You are beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted, and brave. Anyone who spends enough time with you can’t help but care for you."

She squeezed her fingers lightly.

"If someone doesn’t appreciate you, that doesn’t mean you’re unworthy of love."

A faint smile touched her lips.

"It means they’re blind. Or foolish. Or perhaps both."

Elysia stared at their joined hands.

Something inside her loosened.

A knot she hadn’t realized she was still carrying.

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

Imogen brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"The right person won’t need convincing."

Warmth spread slowly through Elysia’s chest.

For years, she had measured her worth through Vaelen’s eyes.

His approval.

His attention.

His affection.

Or rather, the lack of it.

Now she finally understood how foolish that had been.

She smiled faintly.

"You’re right."

Her gaze drifted toward the window.

"No point feeling sad because of Vaelen."

She paused.

"And no point feeling happy because of him either."

The opposite of love wasn’t hatred.

It was indifference.

And for the first time, she was beginning to understand the difference.

To celebrate the realization, she picked up another pastry and took a bite.

Her eyes immediately widened.

"This is amazing!"

The buttery sweetness melted across her tongue.

"Aunt, teach me how to make this."

Imogen laughed.

"Of course."

Elysia was already on her feet.

"Then let’s go to the kitchen."

—

The afternoon passed pleasantly.

For the first time in many days, Elysia felt genuinely relaxed.

Together, they mixed dough, kneaded pastry, experimented with fillings, and filled the kitchen with the comforting aroma of fresh bread and sweets.

At one point, Elysia noticed crates of vegetables stacked neatly against the wall.

The produce looked far fresher than anything currently arriving at Draevenor Manor.

"Where do you buy all these?"

Imogen glanced over.

"From an old farmer near the southern end of Cloudmere Lane."

She smiled fondly.

"His family has supplied vegetables to us for decades. My father purchased from him. I still do."

Elysia nodded thoughtfully.

"And wine?"

"The Windmill Tavern."

Imogen chuckled.

"Surely you remember? Hartwell Manor always bought from—"

She stopped herself.

Years had passed.

Many memories now carried a quiet ache.

But Elysia only smiled.

"Once my aunt, always my aunt."

The older woman’s eyes softened immediately.

"You haven’t changed at all."

"I hope not."

Yet both of them knew she had.

—

By late afternoon, several boxes of fresh pastries had been packed and loaded into Elysia’s carriage.

Before leaving, she hugged Imogen tightly.

Imogen only patted her back and pretended not to notice the slight tremble in her shoulders.

Afterward, Elysia visited the farmer and negotiated a supply contract.

Then she arranged a separate agreement with the Windmill Tavern.

Experience from two lifetimes had taught her one lesson:

Promises meant very little.

Written contracts meant everything.

Her sister-in-law had drilled that lesson into her years ago.

Nothing existed until it was signed and sealed.

By the time she finished, the sun was already sinking below the horizon.

When Elysia returned to Draevenor Manor, the first thing she did was hand the pastry boxes to Miriam.

"Distribute these throughout the manor."

Miriam blinked.

"To everyone?"

"Everyone."

Elysia smiled.

"The guards, stablehands, servants, cooks. All of them."

The staff had endured years under Melissa’s management.

A little goodwill wouldn’t hurt.

Miriam grinned.

"Yes, Your Grace."

—

Meanwhile, Crown Prince Vaelen had just returned to the palace.

The moment he stepped into the Crown Prince’s Wing, Queen Ilara summoned him.

The lecture began immediately.

And it was merciless.

"Do you know how difficult things have become?"

The Queen paced furiously.

"Even with the royal seal in my possession, I spend every day stretching coin until it nearly breaks."

Her voice rose another octave.

"And yet you stroll into town and spend over a thousand crowns on jewelry?"

Vaelen stood silently.

A wise man knew when arguing would only make matters worse.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t feeling particularly wise.

His humiliation at the jewelry shop still lingered.

"...It was because of Elysia."

The room fell quiet.

Queen Ilara stopped pacing.

Vaelen immediately sensed an opportunity.

Carefully omitting certain details—such as the fact that he had repeatedly increased the bidding himself—he recounted the story.

By the time he finished, the Queen looked ready to explode.

A porcelain cup crashed against the floor.

"I knew it!"

Her face darkened.

"That girl has always brought trouble."

Vaelen exhaled quietly.

At least the blame was no longer directed at him.

Queen Ilara sat back down and rubbed her temples.

After a moment, she spoke again.

"Have you heard? Cassiel woke up."

Vaelen blinked.

"Uncle Cassiel?"

"Only briefly, from what I’ve been told."

Her expression became thoughtful.

"Your father wants you to visit Draevenor Manor and see how he’s recovering."

Vaelen frowned slightly.

"The problem is Elysia."

Queen Ilara nodded immediately.

"Exactly."

Her voice sharpened.

"After today’s incident, she’ll undoubtedly misunderstand."

Vaelen raised an eyebrow.

"Misunderstand?"

"Naturally."

The Queen sounded completely certain.

"If you suddenly appear at Draevenor Manor, she’ll assume you’re there because of her."

A slow smile tugged at the corner of Vaelen’s mouth.

Perhaps his mother was right.

Maybe Elysia’s recent behavior really was just another way of seeking his attention.

Otherwise, why would she go to so much trouble?

Why would she keep provoking him?

The more he thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed.

"I’ll go because Father ordered it."

His expression cooled.

"But I don’t need to speak to her."

Queen Ilara sighed.

"Unfortunately, you’ll have to endure it."

Then she added with complete sincerity, "My son is handsome, accomplished, and destined to inherit the throne."

Her gaze turned disdainful.

"How could a little girl like Elysia possibly forget you?"

—

That evening, back at Draevenor Manor, Elysia finally had a chance to rest.

She washed her hair and sat by the window drying it for a while.

But exhaustion quickly caught up with her.

Halfway through, she gave up.

As a child, she had always loved sprawling across her bed after a bath and letting her hair dry naturally.

No etiquette.

No dignity.

No concern for appearances.

Just comfort.

So she did exactly that.

Stretching out across the mattress, she let her head hang slightly over the edge of the bed.

Long damp strands spilled downward like dark silk.

The cool night air brushed against her skin.

And for the first time in many days, she felt completely at peace.

Unaware that somewhere nearby, a certain Duke would have very different opinions.

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