Chapter 148: Words Sharpened Before the Blade
Chapter 147: Words Sharpened Before the Blade
Lyria’s POV
Duke Thorncrest tilted his head slightly, as though considering how best to refine it.
"You may take it a step further," he said at last.
I lifted my gaze to him.
"If hesitation alone is your reason," he continued, "it may appear... insufficient."
Baron Redwick gave a small nod.
"It lacks weight," he agreed, "particularly when presented before an audience that has already begun to form its own assumptions."
Duke Thorncrest’s eyes returned to me.
"You must give them something they can understand," he said. "Something that explains not only your absence... but your silence."
I felt my fingers curl faintly at my sides.
"H-how?" I asked quietly.
His expression softened, though only slightly.
"You were afraid," he said simply.
"You may say so," he continued. "Not as weakness, but as honesty."
Baron Redwick adjusted his spectacles.
"It is not unreasonable," he added, "for a child—particularly one in your position—to fear disappointing those in authority."
Duke Thorncrest nodded once.
"You may say that you did not wish to anger Their Majesties," he said, "that when you were finally permitted to step into courtly affairs, you feared you would fail to meet their expectations."
My throat tightened slightly.
"That you would be found lacking," he added more quietly.
I nodded slowly.
"I... u-understand," I said.
And I did.
Baron Redwick watched me for a moment longer, as though ensuring I had grasped the balance between truth and presentation.
Then, with a small shift of posture, he moved on.
"Very well," he said. "We shall proceed to the next question."
I straightened slightly.
His tone changed again—formal, composed, precise.
"Your Highness," he said, "are you aware of your status as an illegitimate child of the King?"
The question did not startle me.
I nodded.
"Y-yes," I said softly.
Baron Redwick’s gaze did not waver.
"And do you believe," he continued, "that such a status renders you suitable as a Moon candidate?"
"The prophecy," I said slowly, carefully, "does not specify which daughter of the King is to serve as the Moon."
I did not need to think about the answer to this question because I had heard it already.
My voice remained steady.
"It speaks only of royal blood."
I kept my gaze level.
"Whether I am legitimate or not does not alter that fact."
Duke Thorncrest’s eyes sharpened slightly in approval.
"The role," I continued, "has already been defined."
"And by that definition," I added softly, "I am required to stand where I have been placed."
There was a brief silence.
Then Duke Thorncrest spoke.
"Add to it," he said.
I blinked.
He gestured faintly with one hand.
"Clarify that this was not a position you sought," he continued. "It will temper the perception of ambition."
Baron Redwick inclined his head.
"A necessary addition," he said.
Duke Thorncrest’s gaze remained fixed on me.
"You did not wish for this," he said. "But neither can you deny it."
I understood.
"...I did not seek this role," I said slowly, adjusting my words as I spoke them. "But it would be... dishonest to pretend that I do not exist."
My voice remained quiet.
"And it would place Their Majesties in a difficult position," I added, "to be made to explain why I was excluded after my presence has already been made known."
Baron Redwick’s expression shifted—approval, unmistakable this time.
Duke Thorncrest gave a small nod.
"Good," he said. "Very good."
We did not stop there.
The questions continued.
One after another.
At times, Baron Redwick would interrupt mid-answer, correcting phrasing carefully. He would alter a word here, a tone there, shaping each response until it fit within the narrow line of propriety.
"You are too direct," he would say.
Or—
"That phrasing invites challenge."
Duke Thorncrest, on the other hand, focused less on structure and more on intent.
"Do not sound defensive," he told me once. "It gives them the advantage."
And another...
"You are explaining too much. Let them do some of the thinking themselves."
Between the two of them, my answers began to change.
I learned where to pause.
Where to soften.
Where to allow silence to speak where words would betray me.
Time passed without notice.
The light beyond the window shifted gradually, the brightness of morning giving way to the gentler glow of afternoon.
Still, we continued.
Again.
And again.
Until my voice no longer trembled when I spoke.
Until my thoughts no longer scattered when a question was asked.
Until I could hold my expression steady, even when the words pressed too close to truths I would rather leave untouched.
It was not until the distant sound of a bell echoed through the palace that we finally paused.
Three measured chimes.
Clear.
Resonant.
I blinked, startled slightly by the sudden awareness of time.
Baron Redwick glanced toward the window, as though confirming what the sound had already told us.
"Three in the afternoon," he said.
Duke Thorncrest straightened, rolling his shoulders slightly.
"Well," he murmured, "we have been thorough."
Baron Redwick gave a small nod.
"As much as can be done within the time provided," he said.
Baron Redwick turned to me fully.
"Your Highness," he said, his tone returning to its usual composed form, "we must take our leave."
I nodded at once.
"Y-yes," I said softly.
He adjusted his spectacles once more.
"You have done well," he said. "But do not allow that to make you careless."
"I will not," I replied.
"See that you do not forget what has been discussed," he added, "particularly in regard to restraint."
"I u-understand."
Duke Thorncrest stepped slightly closer, his expression easier than the baron’s, though no less serious.
"Good luck, Your Highness," he said.
There was something quieter beneath the words.
Something that did not quite belong to teasing.
I inclined my head.
"Thank you," I said.
Baron Redwick followed with a slight bow.
"May the Goddess be with you," he said.
I returned the gesture instinctively.
"Thank you," I repeated.
There was nothing more to be said.
Not now.
Not before the evening.
They stepped back, allowing space between us.
And, as though by silent agreement, they let me leave first.
I hesitated only briefly.
Then I gathered myself, lowered my head once more in quiet gratitude, and stepped past them toward the corridor beyond, and then to my chambers.
