Chapter 59
The summer heat lay thick upon the grand estate, its golden haze stretching over the iron gates as the royal procession began its departure. The royal seal gleamed upon the carriage doors, the dark red blinds shifting ever so slightly with the motion. Behind it, five more carriages trailed in stately procession, laden with trunks and provisions for the long journey ahead. Soldiers marched in solemn unison, their armor catching the light, the entire spectacle grand enough to be mistaken for a wedding. But I knew better.
Seated in my wheelchair, I watched as the last vestiges of the procession faded beyond the gates. My fingers curled tightly around the silver tiger-head of my cane, the metal cool against my palm. Slowly, I braced myself, inhaling deeply as I forced my weakened body to rise. Pain lanced through my limbs, my muscles trembling beneath the weight of my own frailty. But I stood. I straightened as best I could, and inclined my head toward the distant carriage.
"Thank you, darling, for always being there for me. I wish you a life filled with nothing but joy, laughter, and freedom."
The words were meant for her alone, though she would never hear them.
Tears pricked at my lashes, clinging to the edges of my resolve like dew upon morning grass. I blinked them away swiftly, swallowing down the ache that threatened to unravel me. With careful precision, I lowered myself back into the wheelchair.
Cecilia was safe now. That was all that mattered.
She had Charlotte, a woman who could shield her, guide her, offer her a life beyond the horror that had shaped us both. I had done what I could with the meager power I possessed, ensuring that Cecilia was far from Millicent's reach. If Millicent grew displeased, if she sought to exact her wrath upon Cecilia, it would be too late, Cecilia would already be in Landfox, bound to the royal family, shielded by Charlotte's affections.
Or so I hoped.
Yet, hope was a feeble thing, fragile and insubstantial. I did not know if Charlotte was the right person for Cecilia. I did not know if this woman who had so suddenly appeared, claiming to be Millicent's dearest friend, was truly as kind as she seemed. Yet from all I had observed, Charlotte was gentle and affectionate. Cecilia had grown fond of her, clung to her as if she were a beacon in an endless storm.
But what if that was a mistake? What if I had sent Cecilia into the arms of yet another captor?
I clenched my jaw, forcing the thought away. There was no undoing what had been set into motion. There was no other path I could have taken. This was the best I could do with my pitifully limited knowledge of the world.
But it was not only the uncertainty that burned most bitterly. It was the absence of a proper farewell. Cecilia had not even looked back.
As the last carriage disappeared, I let out a breath I had not realized I was holding. I lifted my gaze to the sky, the vast expanse of it stretching above me, indifferent to the turmoil that churned within. I offered my plea to the heavens.
"Let her forget me," I murmured to the empty air. "Let her find joy with Princess Charlotte, far from me and my shadows."
A cruel request, yet one I knew to be necessary. If she remembered me, she would suffer. And if she suffered, I would not forgive myself.
I forced my heart into stillness, shoving aside the sorrow clawing at my ribs. There was no space for weakness, no room for indulgence in grief. My purpose stood before me, and I would not falter.
My lips curved, the remnants of unshed tears still clinging to my lashes, their weight insignificant now. The moment Cecilia had disappeared beyond my reach, my path had become clear. A dark thrill coursed through me at the mere thought of Millicent's face when she realized what I had done.
With that thought coiling in my mind, I turned my chair, rolling myself back inside. The halls of the mansion stretched before me, grand and silent. This life was exhausting, an endless cycle of fleeting relief and inevitable pain.