Chapter 276: The Truth They Carry
Content Warning: This Chapter contains unsettling themes involving inappropriate and predatory behavior from a parent toward a child. These elements are portrayed as disturbing and villainous and are not romanticized.
Chapter 275: The Truth They Carry
Lyria’s POV
I was visibly uncomfortable, but the King did not care. He stood there, his gaze fixed upon me, his smile lingering at the corners of his lips. I stepped back, trying to create some distance, but he closed it just as quickly. The corridor seemed to narrow around us, the air growing heavy.
"Y-you knew my m-mother?" I asked, my voice strained.
The King inhaled deeply, as though savouring something in the air. His eyes drifted closed for a moment, and when they opened again, they were darker.
"How could I not know your mother?" he said, his voice low. "I knew her very well. And perhaps I may come to know you too."
I coughed at once, raising a hand to my chest. The sound was sharp and convincing, and I forced my shoulders to shake. My heart was pounding, but I kept my face still and my bearing composed.
"I would n-not be opposed to g-getting to know you," I said. "S-since you a-are my f-father."
I could only hope he understood what I meant by it.
He smiled, his tongue darting briefly over his lips — a gesture I found thoroughly disgusting.
"I did not mean it in that sense," he said.
I coughed again, louder, the sound ragged from deep within my chest, and I bent forward as though the effort had overcome me. I put as much force into it as I dared, hoping it would be enough to break the moment.
The King’s expression shifted.
"What is the matter?" he asked, his voice softening as though genuine concern had any place in it.
Debbie and Margery rushed to my side at once, their hands reaching to steady me, as though they had been waiting for precisely this.
"Your Highness!" Margery exclaimed, her voice high with feigned alarm. "I did warn you against moving about! You have not yet fully recovered!"
Debbie nodded quickly, her expression a careful mask of concern.
"It is not Her Highness’s doing," she said. "Princess Jacinta summoned her, and she had no choice but to comply."
Margery turned to the King, bowing her head low.
"Your Majesty," she said, "Her Highness remains gravely unwell. To stand exposed for any length of time risks a relapse. She requires rest. Should she fall ill again, it would be a considerable inconvenience to all."
The King regarded me for a long moment. His gaze was unreadable, and I could not tell whether the performance had convinced him. He studied my face, my posture, the way I leaned upon the maids.
Then he nodded.
"Very well," he said. "See her to her chambers."
The maids bowed.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
They began guiding me down the corridor at once, their hands firm beneath my arms. I leaned into them, my steps deliberately unsteady, and we moved quickly, as though my life depended upon it.
Once we reached my chambers, Phineas and Brayden took their positions outside the door. It closed behind us, and I released my hold on Margery and Debbie, straightening at once.
My heart was still pounding.
Pippa spoke first.
"What in heaven’s name was that?" she asked, her voice sharp with barely restrained fury.
Elara said nothing. Her hand was white from how tightly she had clenched it, her knuckles standing out against her skin, the tension visible in her jaw.
Margery shook her head, her expression dark.
"The man truly knows no bounds," she said. "He means to seduce his own daughter."
I said nothing.
My mind raced, struggling to make sense of what had just occurred. Glenda’s words echoed within it, loud and insistent.
’The King’s new obsession is you.’
But I was his daughter.
How was such a thing possible? What manner of man behaved so toward his own child? What manner of monster looked upon his daughter and saw something to be desired?
I paced the length of the chamber, my finger pressed against my teeth as I bit down upon it. My thoughts tangled, nearly impossible to unravel. The palace had never been safe. I had always known that. But now there was the added danger of the King’s interest — my own father’s interest.
I shook my head.
Difficult as it was to credit, it was true. And I could not remove my mother from the palace, for she remained ill, still unconscious. I was trapped here, surrounded on every side by enemies.
I wondered why, of all moments, the King had taken such an interest in me now. He had despised me as much as I despised him. What had changed? Had he always harboured such inclinations, and I had simply failed to notice? Had he been watching me all these years while I remained blind to it?
I had to be rid of him.
But how?
That was not within my power. I was without strength. Wolfless. I possessed nothing but my own wits.
I shook my head. It seemed an impossible thing to accomplish.
For the present, I had only to survive. I had to endure until my mother recovered, that I might remove her from the palace at last. I had to bear the King’s gaze, Jacinta’s cruelty, the Queen’s threats.
I required allies. I required people of sufficient strength to aid me. And I had to ensure the King answered, in some measure, for what he had done to Patricia. I could not be rid of him — but I could do something, at the very least.
I was still pacing when Elara’s voice broke through my thoughts.
"Your Highness," she said gently, "are you quite well?"
I turned to face them.
I looked at each of my maids in turn — Elara, Debbie, Pippa, Bridget, Margery. Five women placed in my service.
I needed allies. Perhaps I might begin with them.
"W-who are y-you?" I asked.
Elara frowned.
"We have introduced ourselves before, Your Highness."
I shook my head.
"That is n-not what I am a-asking," I said. "You have t-told me, time and again, to trust you. Now I w-wish for you to make that t-trust possible."
I paused, holding her gaze steadily.
"Who are y-you, truly? For you do not strike me as ordinary maids."
