Chapter 529: Sorrows Linger, Sweetness Awaits
As soon as the carriage halted before the mansion, Athillia wasted no time. She stepped down swiftly, skirts brushing against the gravel as she hurried toward the foyer.
"Lady Athillia, wait!" Eli’s voice rang behind her, his boots striking the ground in a rapid beat as soon as he descended from his warhorse.
She turned around, her face marked with irritation.
"What do you want?"
"I need to speak with you, please."
Eli knew this might be his last chance. In a few days, she would leave, and she had already begun avoiding him whenever she could. The only reason he could still be near her was his role as her escort. But even that was ending soon.
"I have nothing to say to you," Athillia replied coldly. "Though I am grateful for what you’ve done, your service won’t be required much. I won’t trouble you any further." Her words carried the edge of sarcasm.
Frustration flared across Eli’s face.
"Come on... please. Just give me a chance!"
Athillia’s resolve faltered briefly under the desperate glint in his eyes. But she quickly steeled herself. Their encounters meant nothing. There was no reason to let him entangle her further.
Before she could speak again, Eli’s hand seized her arm, unyielding. With a swift pull, he led her toward the side garden.
Athillia jerked free the moment they were out of sight.
"What do you think you’re doing, forcing me into a private conversation?" she snapped, her voice laced with fury.
"You paused just now," Eli countered, eyes locked on hers. "That tells me you were considering our talk."
She narrowed her gaze.
"You really do enjoy making assumptions, don’t you?"
"Look—" Eli’s voice strained. "You won’t give me a chance—"
"A chance for what?" Athillia cut him off, her tone sharp.
"To explain myself and apologise!" His voice rose, raw and desperate.
Athillia froze at his outburst. His face had flushed red, not just with anger but with hurt, and for a moment she almost wavered again. Almost.
"And what difference would that make?" she asked, folding her arms and turning away.
"A great deal of difference!" Eli shot back, his tone fierce. "And why didn’t you tell me that His Lordship, the Marquess of Roland, is your maternal uncle?"
Her lips thinned, and she looked back at him.
"I told you before. My personal affairs are none of your concern. Instead of prying into my life, you should focus on your marriage. I’m sure Lord Kyren has already informed you of His Majesty, the King of Galicia’s interest in having one of the Knights of Gerhard as his future son-in-law. From what I know, your name is at the top of the list."
Eli exhaled a heavy sigh. For a moment, he closed his eyes and bit down on his lower lip, trying to steady himself.
Everything was turned on its head when Eric mentioned the planned royal wedding. The words hadn’t even had a chance to sink in before he was already on his feet, rushing towards her – convinced she was the bride in question.
And when the real matter of marriage was brought before him, Eli had been left speechless. Never once had it crossed his mind that he might be nominated as a candidate for the hand of Galicia’s princess.
The proposal had come from King Kyden himself, conveyed through Kyren, yet the young knight, still reeling from the shock, had given no reply.
Fortunately, the Grand Duke, discerning Eli’s need for time, had granted him leniency. Even so, the matter hung unresolved; the young knight had yet to give his answer.
"I’m so sorry, Lady Athillia. I truly am. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that. I was only..." Eli’s words faltered, the rest dying in his throat.
The excuse of worrying she might be forcing herself into marriage with a man twice her age for the sake of safety rang hollow, even to him. There was another reason behind his unease—one far harder to confess.
For a knight who prided himself on rationality, the truth gnawed at him silently because it made no sense at all for him to fall for someone after only one glance on the first encounter.
Athillia’s heart softened. His words of apology had begun to pierce through the walls fortifying her heart.
Eli might have been guilty of presuming too much, but he had neither slandered nor sought to wound her.
Their history of discord and sharp words had always been born of misunderstanding—most often from him. Yet he had redeemed himself, risking his life to save her not long ago.
And not only that, not once did a word of condemnation or insult cross his lips upon seeing the scar that marred her body. Instead, he showed her nothing but respect—a respect that made her heart stir with adoration all the more for him.
There was no point in arguing further.
Athillia came to a quiet resolve, realising at last what she felt for him. It was a dangerous one-sided tenderness, a sentiment never meant to bloom, and a feeling that should not be hers to keep.
"Let’s just put this behind us," she said at last, her tone calmer now. "I don’t wish to make things harder for you. I’ll be gone soon, and I’d rather not leave you with a bitter memory of me. I know what I am... a Bargesian Princess, born of the enemy’s line, and it isn’t easy to see me in a kinder light. But even so, I am not a person who bears spite."
"I never saw you that way," Eli said, his gaze intensely fixed on her. "His Highness told me everything... how you saved him, how you turned the tide of battle... and more than that, what you endured. You proved to be someone who deserves to be remembered with honour, not scorn."
His chest constricted as the memory of Kyren’s words washed over him— the callousness of a man who didn’t deserve the title of father towards her, and the loss of her mother.
Despite her delicate appearance, she had endured hardships no one should bear, yet she still found the strength to escape, crossing half the continent to seek a life of her own.
The thought pierced him deeply. For all she had sacrificed, for the quiet sincerity she carried in her heart, Athillia deserved far more than the scars left behind.
"I appreciate your perspective," Athillia said, relieved that at least their differences had been cleared up. "I forgive you for any misunderstandings you may have had about me. Also, I want to thank you for saving me from drowning and for respecting the boundaries between us. So... no hard feelings, then?"
She extended her hand, lips curving into a cheerful smile, though inside, it was nothing but a mask against the storm in her chest.
’Keep it short, Athillia. End this for good,’ she reminded herself, bracing for resilience even as sadness lingered within.
Eli clasped her hand, his expression solemn.
"Why do I feel like you’re already saying goodbye?" he asked softly.
His blue eyes caught the faint flicker of sorrow in hers, though it was too elusive to be certain. This time, he didn’t dare assume. It could just be his own heart deceiving him.
Athillia held her smile, concealing the sting of disappointment.
"Well... I’ll be busy packing. And when Uncle Mattin comes for me, I may not have time to give you a proper farewell," she answered, giving him an excuse instead of the truth.
"That’s... my uncle’s nickname," Athillia explained softly. "My grandfather used to call him that. Now I’ll carry it on."
"I see..." Eli nodded, though the words felt empty.
Silence settled between them, thin but heavy. The young knight swallowed hard as his mind swirled, thinking about Athillia.
He knew it was right for her to return to her family, but something in him rebelled against it, a feeling he couldn’t name or explain.
"Can’t you just stay?" he blurted before he could stop himself.
Athillia gave a soft laugh, lowering her eyes with a wry smile.
"I have no reason to stay."
And just like that, their talk ended—not in anger, but in a way that left both their hearts aching.
With quiet grace, the Bargesian Princess excused herself and walked to the main entrance, her figure retreating like the closing of a Chapter.
Left alone, Eli stood devastated.
Deep down, he didn’t want her to go. Not yet. But she had been right—there was no reason for her to be here.
Just then, his brooding was broken by a voice behind him.
"Sir Henderson! Explain to me what the drowning is all about?"
Eli spun around in shock. As a knight, he should have sensed anyone approaching, yet this man’s presence slipped past him like a shadow.
A burly figure with a severe expression loomed, and Eli’s face drained of colour.
’Oh, sh*t!’ he cursed inwardly.
***
"Elis, please!"
Kiev’s strong hand caught the princess consort’s arm with ease. He could have restrained her further with his sturdy frame and strength, but patience held him back.
Elis was fragile. If he hurt her, even by accident, she might see him differently. And after all the effort it had taken for her to open up to him, he couldn’t bear to see it undone.
"Let go, Kiev! I don’t want to talk to you right now!"
Elis’s voice was sharp, her resolve firm.
The journey back from the cemetery had already been steeped in grief, with her tears flowing, and Kiev’s repeated attempts to reconcile ending only in more strife.
His refusal to abandon his plan to march to Dracor for revenge had carved a rift between them, one argument feeding the next.
"Elis..." Kiev’s crimson eyes were filled with unease, yet still glimmered with the hope she would understand his intentions.
Garin stepped forward before another quarrel could ignite and said, "Your Highness, perhaps it would be best to let her go for now."
"But—"
"Just go, Kiev! Go!" Elis burst out.
Her fair face flushed red, and her eyes were swollen from weeping in the carriage. Fury and exhaustion warred within her, and the last thing she wanted was to face a husband so determined to press the matter.
"Your Highness, please," Garin urged again, knowing his sister’s nature. "This won’t end well if you force her."
Kiev let out a slow sigh, then finally released Elis. The anger etched on her face clawed at his chest, and he knew it would not be easy to mend this before his departure.
"Come. Let’s go elsewhere and calm down," Garin suggested. "You both need time to ease your hearts."
Though still wrestling with his own frustration, Kiev gave a reluctant nod.
"We’ll talk later, Elis," he said in a low voice.
But she turned away, answering with a rebellious silence.
The tense air settled into quiet, broken only by the soft sound of the princess consort’s weeping.
"Are you all right?"
Elis turned at the voice.
Athillia had emerged from the side garden, braving her steps to approach. Through blurred vision, Elis saw the younger girl’s worried eyes. Embarrassed, she quickly wiped her tears and averted her face.
"You have a fight with your husband, it seems. Did he hurt you?" Athillia asked.
Elis shook her head.
"No. We just... disagreed. It baffles me that he can’t understand my point of view."
Athillia pressed her lips together, then murmured knowingly, "I feel you. Men can be... willfully blind sometimes. Even when you hint at things repeatedly, they twist it into their own meaning."
Elis blinked, surprised. The girl, young as she was, had captured her struggle in plain words.
"You look like you need someone to talk to. I can keep you company," Athillia offered gently.
"You want to... accompany me?" Elis asked, taken aback.
So far, the Bargesian Princess had been no more than an acquaintance, introduced briefly over dinner. They had never honestly spent time together, as Elis had always been with Kiev.
"The last time you were unhappy, you cried from your balcony at night," Athillia said. "It’s not healthy to carry that alone. I even thought you were a ghost haunting the mansion. I hid under my blankets and pillows like a child. I nearly suggested an exorcism to Lord Kyren until Callis told me it was you, her sister-in-law."
Despite her inner sadness, Elis nearly let out a faint laugh and smirked. This girl was unexpectedly easy to be around.
"That feels better, doesn’t it?" Athillia said, seeing the slight light return to Elis’s face.
The princess consort nodded, grateful for the comforting joke.
Just then, footsteps approached from within the mansion.
"Athillia, there you are!" Callis exclaimed the moment she spotted her. "I heard you’d returned but couldn’t find you anywhere. I’ve been looking all over for you!"
"Ah... I was caught up with something just now," the Bargesian Princess replied lightly.
Only then did Callis notice Elis’s swollen eyes. Her smile faltered.
"What happened? Did my brother upset you again?"
Elis hesitated, but Athillia spoke first.
"They were quarrelling when I came upon them."
"Urgh, men! They can be so infuriating at times," Callis scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Forget about him. Why don’t you both join us in the parlour? All the ladies are gathering and having a Snow Apple party!"
"A Snow Apple... party?" Athillia raised a curious brow.
"Anna’s been craving them, so His Highness had some brought in. Seven carts’ worth! The kitchen is overflowing! We are having some of them served fresh, others turned into desserts and delicacies for lunch and dinner." Callis’s voice brimmed with excitement.
"Is it really that good?" Athillia asked, intrigued. "I’ve never tasted one before."
"It’s sweet, crisp, juicy, just the right balance of sour and refreshing. The pregnant ladies are overjoyed. You absolutely must try it," The Mederian Princess urged.
"I shouldn’t," Elis murmured, politely declining. "The apples are meant for Her Ladyship and the pregnant ladies. They ought to have them first."
"Oh, nonsense! There’s more than enough to go around. Even the servants are being given their share," Callis said firmly, already taking Elis’s hand. "Besides, I refuse to let you sulk alone again over my hopelessly stubborn brother."
"Exactly!" Athillia chimed in, looping her arm around the princess consort’s other side. "Come with us. It will be fun to join the ladies."
"But... um..."
"No buts!" Callis cut her off cheerfully. "We’re going!"
Before Elis could protest further, the two younger women had already whisked her away towards the parlour to savour the simple joy of shared sweetness.