Chapter 177: Who Is She? (2)
Edric kept his face composed, but something inside him shifted sharply.
The King did not sound triumphant. He did not sound disappointed either. What lingered in his voice was stranger than either of those things, something Edric could not yet name, and that uncertainty alone was enough to make him wary. Enough to make him listen more closely than he otherwise might have.
The King had met her. That much was certain now.
Edric’s fingers curled once at his side before he forced them still again.
Who, exactly, had the King met? The one he believed to be his son’s lover? Or Lucien’s "Leveret" he was curious about?
And perhaps more importantly, what had he seen when he looked at her?
"Sire," he said at last, bowing his head as though to hide the line of his thoughts. He would not answer too quickly. Not until he understood what game was being played here.
After all, he had already vowed, in his own way, to protect that small, troublesome girl who seemed to have become a soothing balm for the Crown Prince whether the prince remembered her or not. Until he knew more, he would offer nothing.
The King’s eyes remained fixed on the curtain before him.
"I wanted to see her for myself," he said.
Edric’s pulse quickened.
Every instinct in him urged him to ask for details at once. What happened? What did she say? What did you do?
Instead, he stayed silent, the way a man does when he senses that too much eagerness will only sharpen the danger.
The King let out a slow breath.
"She was not what I expected."
Edric’s stomach tightened.
The King’s expression softened slightly, and for one brief moment he looked less like a ruler and more like a tired man standing at the edge of a memory he had not quite decided whether to trust. "She smiled at me," he added.
The statement was so unexpected that Edric nearly frowned.
The King gave a quiet laugh, almost disbelieving. "A dangerous thing, apparently."
Edric said nothing.
The King lowered his gaze to his hand. The burn remained faintly visible across the skin, small and imperfect, a mark that should not have mattered nearly as much as it did and yet kept drawing the eye.
Edric could not tell whether that wound had been intentional or accidental, whether the girl had meant to hurt him or merely defended herself without fully understanding what she was doing.
"She called me Mr. Just Kev," the King said.
Edric blinked.
For the first time in many years, he genuinely did not know what to say.
The King smiled then. It was not the smile he wore for nobles, nor the one he showed ministers, nor the one he might turn on enemies when he wished to make them uneasy. This was something lighter and more human, a brief and genuine expression that seemed almost bewildered by its own existence.
"As though I were truly some wandering gardener."
Edric stared at him.
Something was wrong.
Not with the King himself.
With the situation.
The King should have been speaking about threats, about investigation, about danger. Instead, he sounded like a man describing an unexpectedly pleasant conversation with a girl who should not have disarmed him so easily. That, more than anything, made Edric’s thoughts sharpen.
The smile faded.
Slowly.
The King’s eyes darkened again.
"I almost did it," he said.
Edric understood immediately.
The blood in his veins seemed to cool.
The King did not need to explain. He had almost erased her memories. Almost.
Silence stretched between them.
At last, Edric asked, "What stopped you?"
The King looked down at his injured hand. Then, after a long pause, he gave a short, humorless laugh. "Lucien Caelvaris."
Edric froze.
The King lifted his hand slightly, turning the burned skin toward the light. "That old lunatic gave her a Guardian’s Sigil. Or, at least, that was what he wanted people to believe."
Edric’s brows drew together.
For the first time since the conversation began, genuine astonishment crossed his face.
The King nodded, watching the realization settle in. "It was not a Guardian’s Sigil."
Edric felt the answer before the King said it, and still the truth landed with enough force to make his breath catch.
"It was the Bloodfire Sigil," the King said.
Edric’s eyes widened. "But that only works on someone who carries the Caelvaris bloodline."
That girl, the one he had watched bend shadows and somehow manipulate the earth as though such things were natural to her, now carried Caelvaris fire as well? The idea was so impossible it should have collapsed under its own weight.
She was from Aurelmont. Everyone knew that. How could she possibly be connected to House Caelvaris, let alone carry their bloodline in her veins?
"As shocked as you are, I assure you I was far more shocked," the King said dryly. Then his voice shifted, growing quieter, more thoughtful. "She is from Aurelmont... and yet could she be Lucien’s illegitimate granddaughter?"
"How could it be?" Edric asked, still struggling to understand what he was hearing.
Only a moment ago, the girl had been a curiosity. A suspicious little enigma. Now she had become something else entirely, a knot of impossible bloodlines and hidden inheritance that seemed to reach backward into decades of buried history. Who was she, really?
Outside, the cheers of the crowd swelled louder.
The balcony doors would open soon. The kingdom waited for its ruler to appear and bless the Day of First Light. Yet neither man seemed especially concerned with the celebration anymore.
The King grew quiet.
Very quiet.
Then he turned slightly and asked the question that revealed where his mind had truly gone.
"Tell me, Edric," he said, his voice low, measured, and dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with politics. "Have you ever seen someone smile at you while preparing to defend themselves from you?"
Edric’s eyes narrowed.
The memory of Aveline standing behind a wall of fire flashed through his mind at once. The way she had smiled. The way she had looked harmless. The way no one who met her seemed able to decide whether she was an innocent little thing or something far more dangerous wrapped in sweetness.
Slowly, Edric exhaled.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The King turned toward him.
Edric’s expression became tired, almost resigned.
"Unfortunately," he said, "I know exactly the sort of woman you are talking about."
Then, after a brief pause, he gave the King a look that was half warning and half reluctant sympathy.
"I’ll keep an eye on her for you, Your Majesty."
-----
Theron watched everything from a distance.
Of course... Edric knew more than he revealed.
His lips curved into a smirk. He needs to make a visit.
