And in her previous life…though he had eventually awakened-neglect and poor care had left him permanently paralyzed. Confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.
He had shown her kindness-when no one else had.
The least she could do…was return it.
Care for him.
Help him recover.
Maybe-even help him walk again.
And when he woke up-she would ask for a divorce.
He likely wouldn’t want this marriage either.
Before everything fell apart, back when Cassian was still healthy, she heard whispers that he had once loved someone.
No one knew who she was.
…
Across the hall, Alaric sat rigid in his seat.
His gaze was locked on Elowen.
Unblinking.
An irritation he couldn’t explain gnawed at him.
“She wants to marry Cassian?” Maerwyn muttered under her breath, lips curling. “Elowen really is the dumbest girl alive.”
Alaric’s brow tightened.
Maerwyn leaned closer, her eyes glinting with amusement.
“Alaric, I’d bet anything-she’ll regret this in less than a week.”
A faint, cold smile touched his lips.
“That has nothing to do with me.”
…
After the banquet, Elowen returned to Hale Manor.
She walked through the quiet garden, past familiar paths overgrown with silence, and into her long-abandoned room.
The moment she stepped inside-
She let herself fall onto the bed.
For the first time in years, she didn’t have to think about Alaric.
Didn’t have to brace herself for another cold glance, another silent humiliation.
She was home.
The thought settled over her like warmth.
And for the first time in a long time-she slept.
Deeply and peacefully.
Night after night, her strength slowly returned.
…
A few days later, Hilda-one of the Queen’s most trusted lady-in-waitings-arrived at the Hale Manor.
She greeted Elowen with a warm, familiar smile.
“His Majesty has entrusted your wedding arrangements to Her Majesty,” Hilda said kindly. “The Queen has been preparing everything herself. Today, she plans to select an auspicious date-and she hopes you’ll come to the palace to assist.”
Elowen hesitated slightly.
“I’m not very good with such matters,” she admitted. “Her Majesty may choose any date she deems suitable. I have no objections.”
Hilda let out a soft laugh.
“Even common families consult the bride after the groom’s side chooses a date,” she said gently. “You should come, my lady. The Queen mentioned she hasn’t seen you in quite some time-and would like a private word.”
A private word?
Elowen paused.
In both her past life and this one-the Queen never liked her.
They were never close.
But Hilda’s tone was sincere.
Elowen found herself unable to refuse.
…
By the time she entered the palace, the sun was already lowering in the sky. Golden light spilled across the cobblestone paths, warm and soft.
Elowen walked quietly, following the servants toward the central wing.
Her gaze stayed lowered, watching the shifting light at her feet.
“Your Highness.”
Hilda’s respectful greeting suddenly rang out.
Elowen froze. Then slowly lifted her head.
Alaric stood not far ahead.
Tall. Impeccable. Cold.
His brows were furrowed, his sharp gaze fixed on her with unmistakable scrutiny.
That look made her chest tighten.
Instinctively, she lowered her eyes again and stepped back, offering a restrained bow.
“Your Highness.”
Alaric’s frown deepened.
He knew she liked him.
She had memorized his routines, timed her visits to the Queen just to “accidentally” run into him.
Always with pastries she baked herself.
Smiling. Hopeful.
He had never eaten them.
He gave them away.
Or had them thrown out.
But today, her hands were empty.
No pastry box.
So she came just to see him?
At the banquet, she had boldly claimed she felt nothing for him.
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