Fated Hearts: Reborn to be His Duchess

Chapter 43: Chapter 43: Fool Me Once...

Years ago, Legends of Cassiopeia had swept through the capital city like a storm.

Every noble daughter seemed to carry a copy.

Every tea gathering eventually turned into a discussion about the latest Chapter.

And at the center of that obsession stood one mysterious name.

Alhena.

No one knew who the author truly was.

Man or woman.

Young or old.

Noble or common.

The mystery only fueled the fascination.

No one adored Alhena’s work more than Princess Sylrienne.

When Legends of Cassiopeia ended and Alhena vanished without publishing another story, Sylrienne had reportedly locked herself in her chambers for days.

Some even claimed she had cried her eyes out.

Now, hearing that Deborah possessed the original manuscript, Sylrienne practically leapt from her seat.

"Bring it to me immediately!"

The maid hurried forward to take it from Deborah and pass it onto her.

Sylrienne accepted the manuscript with surprising reverence.

Her fingertips brushed across the cover.

"Alhena’s own handwriting..."

Carefully, she opened the first page.

Elegant script filled the parchment.

The princess froze.

A strange feeling washed over her.

The handwriting looked oddly familiar...

For one absurd moment, a ridiculous thought entered her mind.

It almost resembled Elysia’s.

The idea was so laughable that she immediately dismissed it.

Elysia?

Alhena?

Impossible.

She shot a dismissive glance toward the Duchess.

No woman who spent her days chasing after Vaelen could possibly write something so beloved.

Snorting softly, Sylrienne closed the manuscript.

"Lady Deborah certainly understands gifts."

Her voice carried easily through the hall.

"Unlike some people."

Elysia calmly looked up from her honey cake.

A pleasant smile rested on her lips.

"What was that, dear niece?"

Sylrienne immediately stiffened.

"Are you saying you dislike the books I gave you?"

Several nearby ladies immediately lowered their heads.

Even Queen Ilara glared at her daughter.

Sylrienne nearly choked.

She could practically feel her mother’s gaze boring into the side of her face.

"I..."

Feeling her mother’s eyes on her, the insult sitting on her tongue died before it could escape.

"I simply meant that Lady Deborah’s gift was thoughtful."

Elysia smiled sweetly.

"Then I’m delighted."

The conversation ended there.

But Sylrienne was thoroughly miserable once again.

Clutching the manuscript to her chest, she rose abruptly.

"I need some air."

Without waiting for permission, she swept from the hall.

Deborah followed shortly afterward.

Truthfully, Sylrienne had never thought particularly highly of Deborah.

Very few people met her standards.

The list was embarrassingly short.

The King.

Queen Ilara.

Crown Prince Vaelen.

Alhena.

And...

Uncle Cassiel.

Though that wasn’t admiration.

It was fear.

Pure, overwhelming fear.

As for Deborah?

Ordinarily, Sylrienne would have dismissed her after a few polite exchanges.

But today was different.

Today she possessed Alhena’s manuscript.

As a result, her tolerance was unusually generous.

"Your Highness,"

Deborah matched her pace through the palace gardens.

"Please don’t be upset."

Sylrienne rolled her eyes.

"I am not upset."

The lie fooled no one.

Deborah lowered her voice sympathetically.

"Lady Elysia has only recently become Duchess of Draevenor."

A delicate sigh escaped her.

"Such a sudden rise in status would affect anyone."

Sylrienne snorted.

"You’re saying she’s become arrogant."

"I would never say that."

Which, of course, meant exactly that.

Deborah continued carefully.

"Still..."

She hesitated.

"As close as Lady Elysia seems to be with certain gentlemen..."

Sylrienne frowned.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Deborah immediately looked apologetic.

"Nothing at all."

A pause.

Then—

"I simply cannot imagine the Duke of Draevenor would appreciate hearing certain rumors."

Sylrienne stopped walking.

Slowly, she turned.

Deborah lowered her eyes.

The picture of innocence.

But the thought had already been planted.

In her previous life, Elysia’s reputation had been ruined with shocking ease.

A married woman.

A handsome nobleman.

A private meeting.

People rarely demanded proof.

The suggestion alone was enough.

Sylrienne’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Deborah smiled faintly to herself.

When they returned to the banquet hall, servants had begun serving wine.

Golden liquid gleamed beneath crystal lights.

A delicate fragrance drifted through the room.

One ornate carafe sat upon every table.

Elysia noticed the change immediately when Sylrienne re-entered.

It was impossible to miss.

Earlier, the princess had left looking humiliated.

Now she looked triumphant.

Almost excited.

Their gazes met across the hall.

And Sylrienne smiled.

A smile filled with certainty.

With anticipation.

And malice.

The sight made Elysia’s blood run cold.

Because she recognized that expression.

She had seen it before.

In another lifetime.

On this exact day.

At this exact banquet.

The memory crashed into her with brutal clarity.

In her previous life, Sylrienne had hated her.

Hated her for loving Vaelen.

Hated her for marrying into the royal family.

Hated her simply for existing.

And so the princess had devised a trap.

A devastatingly cruel one.

The wine had been drugged.

Back then, Elysia had never suspected a thing.

It was the palace.

A royal birthday celebration.

What danger could possibly exist here?

So she drank.

And waited.

The effects came quickly.

Heat spread through her body.

Her thoughts became sluggish.

Her limbs grew weak.

Concerned smiles appeared around her.

Sympathetic voices suggested she rest.

A maid kindly offered to escort her to a nearby chamber.

Everything had seemed perfectly normal.

Until she entered the room.

The trap had already been prepared.

Two palace guards waited inside.

Young.

Handsome.

Half-dressed.

The maid had spilled water on her sleeve and encouraged her to remove her outer robe.

Then the maid had quietly disappeared.

The guards had stepped forward.

And suddenly the door was closed.

By the time Elysia realized something was wrong, it was too late.

Strong hands seized her wrists.

The drug clouded her thoughts.

Her body refused to cooperate.

And then—

The door burst open.

Princess Sylrienne arrived with half the noble ladies in attendance.

The scene before them appeared undeniable.

A flushed, disheveled Elysia.

Two shirtless men.

A locked room.

Exactly as Sylrienne had intended.

The memory ended.

Elysia stared silently at the wine now resting before her.

Her fingers tightened beneath the table.

This time...

She knew exactly what was coming.

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