Chapter 71
"Your Ladyship, are you even listening?" Laura, seated across from me at the desk, waved a hand before my eyes.
I exhaled heavily, my gaze drifting over the mountain of documents stacked upon my new desk in my new study. The sight alone soured my mood. "Laura, I am going to retire."
She regarded me with a measured calm. "That is understandable. I shall have the maids draw you a bath. Rest is essential. We can resume your affairs later."
"No, Laura," I corrected, my patience already worn thin. "I mean to retire altogether. I have no intention of entertaining this nonsense. Sell whatever businesses my father had dealings in. Sell the lands, every estate, every property under the Lorynthall name. I have neither the patience nor the inclination to engage with the nobility. Sell this residence as well. Kyle and I shall return to Zalvanica. We will purchase a modest estate, live out our days in peace, and die quietly in obscurity."
I reached for my cane, standing with an air of finality, thoroughly exasperated with the entire ordeal. From the account ledgers, it was evident that I could live twenty lifetimes in comfort without ever lifting a finger for more wealth. The notion of endlessly accumulating coin baffled me. These nobles and their insatiable thirst for more, it was absurd.
Besides, Kyle and I would never have children. There would be no heir to inherit this fortune after I passed. What, then, was the purpose of holding onto it?
"If you are certain this is your decision, I shall see it done," Laura said. "But I urge you to think on it a while longer. Should you remain resolute, you may rely upon me."
I sighed, reaching for the document at the top of the nearest stack. A contract between Anthony and a duchess in the kingdom of Dunverra.
"Ugh," I muttered, face contorting with distaste.
Of course. Dunverra. The very land drenched in that ridiculous cult of Ombrithar, the so-called goddess half the world insists on worshipping. The kingdom is littered with devotees who practically bathe in incense and delusion. Their temple is the largest, and they even boast some absurd figure called The Voice of the Divine, who claims to speak to Ombrithar herself. How convenient. Politics in robes, nothing more.
And the names… dear heavens, the names. They cannot simply christen a child John like the rest of us. No, it must be something needlessly theatrical, like Talyssin. The princess herself is named Yseldra, which sounds more like a poison potion than a person.
The entire kingdom is mad. The fact that Anthony struck a deal with anyone from that nest of lunacy made me want to vomit blood on the spot.
With a flick of my wrist, I tossed the document aside.
"There. I have given it thought," I muttered. "Are you satisfied now, Laura?"
Yes, sell it all. Let the Lorynthall name fade into nothing.
I stepped away from my desk, intent on retreating from the drudgery of my responsibilities when Laura's voice laced through the silence.
"I know you still have feelings for Her Grace."
My heart gave a painful lurch within my chest.
I did not turn. I should have left the room, should have ignored her, but my feet remained rooted in place.
"You were looking for her during the ceremony, were you not?"
Another thud of my heart, louder this time.
"I do not mean to intrude upon your marriage," she continued, her gaze a weight upon my back. "But there are matters that require clarification."
I turned my head slightly, just enough to see her from the corner of my eye.
"When you were imprisoned, accused of dealing in illegal slave and Zar trades, Her Grace worked tirelessly to clear your name as swiftly as she could."
Stop.
"There were eyes and ears everywhere."
Please stop.
"If word had spread that she had released an accused criminal without following the proper procedures, the entire noble class, officers, ministers, every last one of them would have used it against her. Consider the consequences, Your Ladyship."
I do not wish to.
"One crime forgiven, and another would follow. Then another. And another. Soon, every scheming wretch would demand her leniency, pointing to precedent. Politics would twist the knife. One by one, the foundations of her duchy would crumble. The justice she is known for, the name she has spent years fortifying, would mean nothing."
Stop it, Laura.
"This would not only ruin her, Your Ladyship. It would endanger her people. Crime would flourish. The innocent would suffer."
"Enough!" I snapped, my voice cracking under the weight of emotion.
"Thank Her Highness, Princess Charlotte, who, by pure fortune, decided to visit Her Grace that year," Laura pressed on mercilessly. "It was the Princess who persuaded Cecilia to provide the proof of your innocence."
"I said stop!" My voice was raw, a strangled thing, desperate to silence the truth that I had spent years refusing to acknowledge.
"I have learned much in my years beside my husband. So do not hate Her Grace too much. Do not blame her too much."
I sank back into my chair, my limbs weak, as though the very life had been drained from me. The clock ticked on.
I knew.
I had always known. I had watched Millicent work tirelessly in her study, had seen the burden of her position weigh upon her shoulders. I had known, yet I had wished she would break her own rules, just once.
I had wanted her to choose me.
In my suffering, I had forsaken logic. I had allowed hatred to bloom, to root itself deep within me, twisting and entwining with the love I still harbored for her.
Laura finally rose from her chair. She made her way to the door and, upon opening it, she spoke without looking back. "We do not know how you managed to escape after the knife incident, nor who aided you, but you need not have left in such a manner. You worried us beyond words. At first, we feared you had been kidnapped. Her Grace deployed soldiers to scour Ivoryspire in search of you."
I felt the breath in my lungs still. My eye snapped up to her.
"The borders reported no sight of you leaving, so she was certain you remained within Ivoryspire. How you managed to slip beyond them undetected is beyond my comprehension. But regardless, I am relieved. Relieved that you were not stolen away against your will. Relieved that you have found happiness with Kyle Woodstone." She stepped over the threshold, but before leaving, she turned back.
"However, I must say this. You did not have to leave Vincent, a newborn, alone at the Vaneeri gates. I did not believe you capable of such cruelty, Your Ladyship."
My heart pounded, each beat aligning with the tremor in my lips.
Was it true? Had Millicent truly not been the one behind my imprisonment in that wretched cottage?
Laura did not seem to be lying. She had no reason to deceive me. Had this all been Annette Vaneeri's doing? Had it been her scheme alone, to sentence me to rot and die, to seize Vincent, then placed him at the gates as if I had been the one to forsake him?
My mind whirled, grasping at the fragments of the past, piecing them together in a way that no longer aligned with the hatred I had cultivated for years.
"I shall take my leave," Laura said at last. "Summon me when you are prepared to speak of your work, but do not tarry too long. Contracts have consequences when handled without due haste, and I should hate to witness such a thing befall you."
And with that, she closed the door behind her.