Chapter 141: A Truth Given to the Crowd
Chapter 140: A Truth Given to the Crowd
Lyria’s POV
I stared at both of them for a moment, unsure how to answer the question Baron Redwick had posed.
"...Is it... i-important?" I asked quietly, my fingers curling faintly against the edge of the window frame.
Baron Redwick did not hesitate.
"It may not seem so to you, Your Highness," he said, his tone measured but firm, "but it is to us."
I blinked.
He adjusted his spectacles, his gaze moving briefly around the abandoned space before returning to me.
"From the state of this section alone, it is clear that it has long been neglected," he continued. "This is not a place one simply stumbles upon. If not for you, we would not have known it existed at all."
There was a pause, brief but deliberate.
"As such," he added, "I find myself rather curious as to how you came to know of it."
I did not answer at once.
Because I did not know how to.
Duke Thorncrest remained silent beside him, but I could feel his gaze on me. It was not as light as it had been before, nor was it teasing. There was something else in it now—something quieter, more observant.
It made my chest feel tight.
I swallowed softly, my lips parting as I tried to find the words.
"I—"
Before I could finish, the air shifted.
The low, resonant hum that had been building from the scrying veil deepened, growing steadier and stronger until it settled into something unmistakable.
The king’s voice carried clearly, effortlessly, as though spoken from just beyond the window rather than across the entire kingdom.
"People of the kingdom," the King began, his tone calm and composed, "I greet you."
I turned at once toward the window, my attention pulled from the question I had not answered.
Then, quickly, I glanced back at the two men.
"W-we can speak of that l-later," I said, a little hurriedly. "F-for now... p-please. We s-should focus on the a-announcement."
Baron Redwick studied me for a brief moment longer, as though weighing whether to press further.
Then he inclined his head once.
"As you wish."
Duke Thorncrest said nothing, but he moved closer to the window without protest.
I shifted slightly to make space for them, though the narrowness of the area forced us closer than was proper. Baron Redwick stood to one side, Duke Thorncrest to the other, and I found myself between them as we looked out toward the scrying veil.
The shimmering surface had grown brighter now, its light rippling faintly as the King’s image formed within it.
He stood tall, composed—every inch the ruler the kingdom expected to see.
Beside him stood the Queen.
Her expression was calm, her posture perfect, her presence unwavering.
"I am aware," the King said, "that there has been... considerable unrest within the kingdom following the events of last evening."
His tone remained steady, but there was a weight to his words now.
"The elimination ball, as it was intended, did not proceed as expected."
At that, I felt a shift beside me.
Baron Redwick’s gaze sharpened slightly.
Duke Thorncrest let out the faintest breath through his nose.
The King went on.
"I am also aware," he continued, "that Her Majesty and I have not done enough to quell the concerns and rumors that have since arisen."
"I offer my apologies," the King said, "for allowing matters to reach such a state."
"As you have heard," he continued, "Princess Lyria has long been... disinclined toward public life."
My fingers tightened faintly.
"From a young age, she has preferred solitude," he said. "A quieter existence, away from the scrutiny of the court."
I lowered my gaze slightly.
"That," he added, "was what we believed to be her nature."
There was a pause.
"But as recent events have made clear, that assumption may have been... misguided."
Something in my chest sank.
Beside me, Baron Redwick frowned faintly.
"...He is placing the burden upon you," he murmured under his breath.
Duke Thorncrest’s jaw tightened slightly.
"That is a rather pathetic approach," he said quietly. "Even for a king."
I did not respond.
Because I was not surprised.
The King continued speaking, his voice unchanged.
"Princess Lyria has always been... a delicate child," he said. "Her health, her disposition—these were considerations that led us to shield her from the demands of court life."
I could feel the weight of those words settle over me.
"It was our intention to protect her," he went on.
The Queen inclined her head slightly beside him, her agreement silent but visible.
"And yet," the King continued, "it has become clear that such protection may have done more harm than good."
As if I was being protected.
"As such," he said, "there are truths that must now be acknowledged openly."
"Princess Lyria," the King said, his gaze steady as it faced forward, "is indeed my child."
"Though she was not born of the Queen," he added, "she has nevertheless been raised within the palace under Her Majesty’s care."
The Queen nodded once more, composed, unshaken.
"And as such," the King concluded, "she is no less a princess of this kingdom."
The words echoed. A laugh sputtered out of me, and both the duke and the baron turned to me, their brows drawn together in a frown.
I waved them off as I pulled myself together. The King and the Queen were very funny people. The only people who treated me like a daughter were my mother, Patricia, and also those in the tallow and tide who treated me like I was a part of them.
"While it is true," the King continued, "that Princess Lyria has, until now, declined participation in the events surrounding the current selection—"
A faint tightening settled in my chest.
"—it has become apparent," he went on, "that such a decision can no longer remain unchallenged."
Baron Redwick’s expression darkened slightly.
"...This is not how such matters should be handled," he murmured.
Duke Thorncrest did not take his eyes off the veil.
"No," he said quietly. "It is not."
The King’s voice carried on, unwavering.
"The people of this kingdom have expressed a desire for clarity," he said. "And it is our duty to provide it."
"Therefore," he said at last, "despite her previous reluctance—"
My fingers tightened against the wood of the window.
"—Princess Lyria will, from this moment forward, be recognized as an official participant in the ongoing selection."
"She shall take her place among the candidates," the King continued, "as a Moon candidate of this kingdom."
"This decision," the King added, "is made not only in response to public concern, but in the interest of fairness and transparency."
"We trust," he concluded, "that the people of this kingdom will receive this truth with understanding."
