Fated Hearts: Reborn to be His Duchess

Chapter 66: Chapter 66: The Gemini Canopy

Years ago, Elysia had accompanied her mother to celebrate her maternal grandfather’s birthday.

In high spirits after the festivities, her grandfather—who doted on his only granddaughter—gifted her a vast stretch of land, complete with forests, streams, and an entire hill.

Among all the places on the estate, Elysia loved one above every other.

Near the summit lay a wide meadow carpeted in soft blue-green grass.

On clear nights, she would climb there alone, spread a blanket over the hillside, and lie beneath the endless sky.

From that peaceful perch, the stars seemed close enough to touch.

Her grandfather had patiently taught her the names of the constellations and the brightest stars that adorned the heavens. Together they traced their shapes across the night sky, weaving stories around each one until she knew them by heart.

She especially loved the Gemini constellation, her birth sign, and Alhena, the third-brightest star in Gemini, was her favourite.

Whenever she felt troubled, she would return to that meadow and lose herself beneath the vast canopy of stars.

The boundless stars had always brought her comfort.

That was why, when she first picked up a pen, she chose the name Alhena.

It reminded her of the tranquil hilltop where she had dreamed of countless stories beneath a sky full of stars.

Vaelen gave a dismissive snort.

"So what if Lady Deborah isn’t Alhena?"

He looked directly at Elysia.

"Does that suddenly make you the author?"

Elysia’s expression remained composed.

"I never claimed I was."

She met his gaze steadily.

"I’m simply saying that no one has ever seen Alhena before. That makes impersonating her remarkably easy."

At those words, Deborah’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly.

Moisture quickly gathered in her eyes.

"Impersonating?"

Her voice quivered.

"Your Grace... are you saying I’m lying?"

Vaelen glanced toward her.

"If she’s lying, then explain this. How did Lady Deborah know about Alhena’s identifying signs? The veil. And the limp."

Deborah’s heartbeat nearly stopped.

So...

Those were the signals?

For a brief, dizzying moment, she almost believed Heaven itself had decided to help her.

Elysia was equally surprised.

She had invented those identifying features in haste.

Yet by sheer coincidence, Deborah had arrived wearing a scarf over her face and limping because of Cassiel’s punishment.

The timing could not have been worse.

"Now, now."

Queen Ilara smiled gently, speaking before Elysia could respond.

"I understand your concern, Duchess. You simply wish to prevent anyone from deceiving us."

She turned toward Deborah with an indulgent smile.

"But surely Lady Deborah would never dare deceive both the Crown Prince and me."

Elysia’s eyes cooled.

She certainly would.

The Corvis Family had never been strangers to deception.

Years ago, Deborah’s elder brother had forged a military dispatch.

That single act had terrified Elysia’s pregnant sister-in-law into a miscarriage.

Her eldest brother had lost his only child because of that forged order.

The memory sent a chill through her chest.

Deborah lowered her eyes.

"My pen name... was simply something I thought of at random. I hid my identity all these years because I wished to avoid unnecessary attention."

Her voice trembled with carefully measured vulnerability.

"If Your Grace dislikes it... then I shall stop writing. I’ll never use the name Alhena again."

Elysia frowned slightly.

What a convincing performance.

With just a few pitiful words, Deborah had subtly painted herself as the victim while casting Elysia as an overbearing bully.

Alma frowned in Elysia’s direction.

Although she dared not speak against the Duchess, her disapproval was plain.

Elysia also caught the faint click of Vaelen’s tongue.

She knew that sound all too well.

In her previous life, whenever he made that soft, impatient noise, it meant he had already judged her guilty.

For one fleeting instant, the old helplessness returned.

Her fingers tightened around her sleeve.

Then her gaze dropped.

She noticed the elegant embroidery stitched onto the cuff of her robes.

A quiet certainty settled over her.

I’m no longer the powerless Crown Princess.

I’m the Duchess of Draevenor.

Cassiel stands behind me.

The tension in her fingers slowly eased.

She looked back at Deborah.

"Lady Deborah."

Her tone was calm and measured.

"We grew up together. You visited Hartwell Manor often when we were children."

She paused.

"But after my father, my brothers, and my uncles fell on the battlefield... your visits stopped."

The meaning behind her words was unmistakable.

When the Hartwell Family lost its influence, Deborah quietly distanced herself.

Colour drained from Deborah’s face.

"That wasn’t because—"

Elysia interrupted gently.

"I know. It’s been years since we were close. So naturally, I have no way of knowing whether you’ve truly written any stories. Or whether you’re really Alhena."

She continued evenly.

"Princess Sylrienne is now my niece. She admires Alhena deeply. As her aunt, I naturally hope she won’t be misled by someone falsely claiming that identity."

She gave Deborah a faint smile.

"And yet you insist on interpreting my concern as jealousy."

Her smile deepened ever so slightly.

"Your father once served under mine. If I had truly envied your literary talent... your reputation as the capital’s little literary prodigy would never have grown to what it is today."

"So why would I suddenly choose this occasion..."

"...before Her Majesty and His Highness..."

"...to make trouble for you?"

Deborah stood frozen.

Not a single word came to mind.

Only tears rolled silently down her cheeks.

"That’s enough."

Queen Ilara sighed softly.

"I’m certain the Duchess bears no jealousy."

She looked toward Deborah with motherly warmth.

"We know you’re a modest child. No one is accusing you of anything. Dry your tears."

After several more comforting words from the Queen, Deborah finally nodded.

She lifted the edge of her scarf and gently wiped away her tears.

The tense atmosphere gradually eased.

At that very moment—

A sharp, childish voice rang out from below the dais.

"You did that on purpose!"

Elysia instinctively turned toward the disturbance.

A young girl, no older than ten, had jumped to her feet.

She tightly gripped Lillian’s wrist, her cheeks flushed with anger.

Lillian looked helplessly toward the raised platform.

"Don’t look over there!"

the little girl snapped.

"I spent forever writing my poem!"

"And then you knocked over my ink!"

"It’s completely ruined!"

"How am I supposed to present anything to Her Majesty and His Highness now?"

Lillian shook her head frantically.

"I’m sorry..."

"It was an accident."

"An accident?"

The girl glared at her.

"Does saying sorry bring my poem back?"

Lillian bit her lip.

"...You can submit mine instead."

The girl looked at the paper Lillian offered before scoffing.

"Your poem?"

"It’s awful."

"I don’t want it."

Around them, whispers immediately began spreading through the gathering.

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