Chapter 69: Chapter 69: Faces and Fables
"As for Lillian..."
Cassiel’s voice remained calm.
"Handle the matter however you think best. Everyone in Draevenor Manor answers to you now."
Elysia looked at him, then nodded slowly.
"Thank you, my lord."
The carriage rolled into the manor courtyard before coming to a gentle stop.
A young footman was already waiting outside.
"Your Grace."
He bowed respectfully.
"General Vance has been waiting to see you for quite some time."
Before Elysia could ask anything, Cassiel spoke first.
"General Vance serves in the Northern Garrison."
He continued matter-of-factly, "Years ago, he kept a woman outside the household. Later, under pressure from his family, he married a noble lady of suitable status. Recently, that woman went to the garrison looking for him. It caused quite a scene."
Realization dawned on Elysia.
So...
The woman everyone had been gossiping about wasn’t Cassiel’s former beloved after all.
It seemed the woman he truly cared for had never caused him any trouble.
She must have been thoughtful...
And dignified.
No wonder he treasured her.
Elysia simply inclined her head.
"I understand. Please don’t let me delay your work."
Cassiel studied her quietly for a brief moment before Bran helped him out of the carriage and into his wheelchair, leading him toward the study.
---
Inside the palace, the verse salon had just concluded.
Meg hurried straight back to Sylrienne’s chambers to report on today’s events.
"Your Highness!" She said, slightly out of breath.
"Alhena is Lady Deborah! The Lord Chancellor’s daughter!"
Sylrienne blinked.
"Deborah?"
A crease appeared between her brows.
"Are you absolutely certain? There wasn’t some mistake?"
Meg nodded vigorously.
"I’m certain, Your Highness. Alma recognized her, and Lady Deborah admitted it herself. Although..." She paused briefly.
"The Duchess of Draevenor questioned her identity at first."
At the mention of Elysia, Sylrienne’s expression darkened.
"What right does she have to question anyone? She’s obviously just jealous."
Meg nodded immediately.
"His Highness the Crown Prince said the same thing as well. He believed the Duchess was simply jealous."
Sylrienne gave a satisfied huff.
Yet despite that...
Something continued to trouble her.
She had met Deborah before.
Somehow...
Neither her personality nor her temperament felt anything like the brilliant author she had imagined while reading Legends of Cassiopeia.
Something simply didn’t fit right.
---
Meanwhile, Vaelen returned to the Crown Prince’s Wing.
Since his temporary suspension from court, no official memorials required his attention.
He attempted to read a historical chronicle in his study.
After several pages, however, he realized he hadn’t absorbed a single sentence.
His thoughts wandered elsewhere.
Suddenly, an idea occurred to him.
"Someone."
An attendant stepped forward.
"Fetch me a copy of Alhena’s novel. I’d like to read it."
In just a few minutes, Legends of Cassiopeia was placed upon his desk.
He opened the first page.
The hero’s name was...
Veron.
Vaelen paused.
As he continued reading, he soon reached the scene where the two protagonists first met as children.
They immediately disliked each other.
Before long they were fighting.
His hand froze.
That... had actually happened.
His first meeting with Elysia had unfolded almost exactly the same way.
He couldn’t even remember what they had argued about.
Only that young Elysia had been unexpectedly strong.
She had pinned him to the ground and left him with a magnificent black eye.
Even worse...
When they were dragged before Zephyrus to explain themselves, Elysia burst into tears before he had managed to say a single word.
Naturally... everyone comforted her.
And he became the one blamed.
The similarities unsettled him.
An uneasy feeling settled deep inside his chest.
Could... Elysia actually be Alhena?
The thought lasted only a moment.
Impossible.
If she truly were Alhena... and knew how deeply Sylrienne admired the author... she would surely have revealed her identity long ago to gain his favour.
Instead, she had denied knowing anything about Alhena.
Besides... Deborah had grown up alongside Elysia.
She must have heard those amusing childhood stories and simply woven them into her novel.
That explanation made far more sense.
Satisfied with his reasoning, he continued reading.
The playful banter between the two leads gradually drew him in.
Their growing affection made him smile despite himself.
As the romance deepened, his expression grew increasingly absorbed.
"Your Highness."
A servant’s voice suddenly interrupted him.
Vaelen shut the book almost instinctively.
The servant bowed before him.
"It’s getting late. Perhaps it’s time to retire for the night."
Vaelen cleared his throat.
For some reason, his voice sounded slightly hoarse.
"...Very well."
After washing up, he went to bed.
That night...
He dreamed.
In his dream, he was no longer Vaelen.
He had become Veron.
Moonlight filtered through flowering branches.
Cassiopeia stood beneath the blossoms, smiling softly at him.
As he approached, he realized she wore Deborah’s face.
He felt nothing.
Still... he smiled politely.
Then the dream shifted.
Like ripples spreading across still water, Deborah’s features slowly blurred.
Little by little... they transformed.
Until Elysia’s face looked back at him.
Vaelen stopped in his tracks.
His heartbeat quickened.
He stepped forward and gathered her into his embrace.
The dream dissolved into warmth before fading into darkness.
Long before dawn, Vaelen woke abruptly.
He stared silently at the canopy above his bed.
His heart still raced.
Last night’s dream... had been about Elysia.
His brows drew together.
Impossible.
He didn’t like Elysia.
He shouldn’t have dreamed of her.
If anything... the woman in that dream should have been Deborah.
Yes.
It should have been Deborah.
---
Back at Draevenor Manor, Cassiel spent the entire night discussing military matters with General Vance in the study.
Meanwhile, Elysia slept peacefully in their shared bedchamber.
While deep in sleep, she gradually began to feel warm.
Something beside her seemed to be crowding closer.
Still half asleep, she instinctively reached out, trying to push it away.
Instead, her palm encountered something firm beneath soft fabric.
Her sleepy mind couldn’t make sense of it.
Thoughts drifted sluggishly through her consciousness...
As though she were trying to walk through thick honey.
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