Fated Hearts: Reborn to be His Duchess

Chapter 39: Chapter 39: Twisted Truths

Now, they stood on equal footing—no, the Corvises had the advantage.

Their family thrived, their influence growing with the King’s favour, while Elysia’s father and brothers were moldering in their graves, their names fading from memory with each passing year.

In her past life, it was Deborah who had entered the Crown Prince’s Wing as Vaelen’s concubine.

Her fortune had far outstripped Elysia’s.

Deborah had shared his bed on their wedding night.

Whispers among the servants spoke of Vaelen calling for a bath twice, a sign of his ardent favor.

Elysia, thinking their long friendship would provide companionship and support, had been naively hopeful.

But Deborah, while addressing Elysia with a veneer of respect, had acted very differently.

Because of her, the rift between Elysia and Vaelen had widened into a chasm.

The servants of the Crown Prince’s Wing, sensing the shift in power, had gravitated towards Deborah, gradually ignoring Elysia until, at times, she couldn’t even get a cup of water.

Now, seeing Elysia, Deborah lifted a brow, crimson lips curving.

"Elysia... What a surprise! It’s been an age."

Elysia’s fingers tightened instinctively, her face paling slightly.

Deborah noted her pallor but attributed it to the hardships of being wed to a crippled duke.

She didn’t dwell on it.

With a light laugh, she added,

"Now, be a dear and have your coachman back up. I need to go first."

Under normal circumstances, Elysia might have yielded.

It was a minor delay.

But not today.

Not just because of the past hurts, but because now she represented the honor of both Draevenor and Hartwell Manor.

Her expression remained placid.

"There is an order to things. My carriage has been waiting for its turn. Yours arrived later. Why should you take my place?"

A flicker of annoyance crossed Deborah’s face.

Their standoff blocked the gate, drawing impatient mutters from the carriages behind.

"How much longer?"

"Why have we stopped?"

"What’s the hold-up?"

A figure with a notoriously short temper jumped down from his carriage and strode forward.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Elysia recognized him—Reeve Alderdice, only son of the Duke of Merlinspire.

The Duke of Merlinspire’s military honors rivaled the Hartwell family.

He still served in court and held real power.

Reeve, the pampered only heir, feared nothing and no one, not even the Crown Prince himself.

Rumor had it that the only person who’d ever bested him was Cassiel, the details of that encounter being murky.

The young man, barely twenty with handsome, stormy features, glared at them.

"There’s a damn line! Either move or get out of the way!"

Deborah bit her lip, turning to Elysia with a performative sigh.

"Elysia, I know you’re upset with me, but look at all these people waiting."

She adopted a long-suffering tone.

"Fine. If you’re in such a hurry, go ahead. I can wait a little longer."

It was her classic tactic—accuse the victim.

She was the one cutting in, yet with a few words, she painted Elysia as the unreasonable bully.

Elysia had fallen for this trick many times before.

Though she was accustomed to it, seeing it now still sparked a bitter, incredulous laugh.

Reeve was famously, almost fanatically, righteous.

It was said he’d interrogate a stray dog if it looked suspicious.

His brows knitted together in disapproval.

"What are you letting her do?" he snapped at Deborah.

He turned his glare on Elysia.

"I know you—you’re General Hartwell’s daughter. And I know she used to follow you around... Looks like old habits die hard. You got used to pushing her around, and now that you’re the Duchess of Draevenor, you think you can do as you please!"

At the mention of Cassiel, his voice took on a sharper, more personal edge, though he cloaked it in righteous fervor.

"But this world runs on order and law. First come, first served. You think you can bully someone right in front of me? Think again!"

He pointed a decisive finger.

"You will apologize to Lady Deborah. Then you will pull aside and wait until everyone else has entered!"

Elysia’s delicate brows drew together.

She met Reeve’s gaze squarely, ready to explain.

But Deborah cut in first, her voice a gentle, concerned murmur.

"Lord Reeve, your chivalry is appreciated. But we are at the palace gates. The Crown Prince’s Wing is just over there... If we cause a scene here, and word reaches His Highness..."

She glared meaningfully at Elysia before continuing,

"It’s Princess Sylrienne’s day. The Crown Prince is already occupied. To trouble him with something as trivial as a queue would be an unnecessary burden."

Elysia’s frown deepened.

This was Deborah’s ultimate shield, the one that let her twist the truth with impunity.

Having shadowed Elysia for years, Deborah knew all about her feelings for Vaelen.

She knew that invoking his name was the surest way to make Elysia back down and swallow her grievances.

"Don’t trouble the Crown Prince."

"Don’t anger the Crown Prince."

"Don’t make things difficult for the Crown Prince."

For years, those words had ruled Elysia’s life.

Every grievance swallowed.

Every humiliation endured.

Every injustice ignored.

Because she had loved Vaelen.

Because she never wanted to burden him.

Because she always believed that if she gave enough, sacrificed enough, tolerated enough, he would eventually see her sincerity.

Now she knew better.

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