Chapter 68
The package was small–no larger than a folded napkin- but it gleamed like treasure in Eñung’s hands.
We sat in the lounge, the windows cracked to let in the early light. Morning wind carried the scent of fresh lemon blousitis front the courtyard, can ach sharp all at once. My tea sal cooling on the table between us, untouched.
Emma’s eyes were wide with curiosity as she turned the gift over in her paims. The wrapping was elegant deep groen silk tied with a silver bron, the ends finished clean and tucked perfectly beneath a wax seal. The seal bore a delicate, swirling crest. Larian’s
She looked up at me, cheeks flushed. “Should I open it now?”
I nodded, managing a smile. “Of course,”
She broke the seal carefully, like unwrapping something holy, and peeled back the silk. Nestled inside was a small charm–silver, round, maybe the size of a coin. It shimmered with faint runes etched across its face, strung through with a thin cord of dusky blue silk
“A luck charm,” she said breathlessly, holding it up to the light. “He said this one’s enchanted for intuition. So I’ll always know what feels right. She laughed, soft and a little embarrassed. “He’s ridiculous.”
But the way her fingers traced the runes–gently, reverently–told a different story.
“He sent a note with it?” I asked.
Emma nodded, sliding a small parchment free from the bottom of the wrapping/She didn’t read it aloud, but her eyes lingered on the words. She smiled.
“Most of the suitors here just flirt because they think they’re supposed to,” she said. “But Larian… he asks me real questions. He remembers what i said about my mother’s favorite tea blend. He doesn’t make me feel like I’m competing for attention.”
I watched her as she spoke, the way her voice softened, how her shoulders relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen in days. She looked lighter. Not just because of the charm–but because she wanted to believe in the intention behind it.
And I wanted that for her.
But I couldn’t stop the flicker in my mind. The memory was faint, but too vivid to ignore. The market. Larian laughing with a different woman, his hand brushing her arm like it was habit, a shared intimacy.
That woman had slipped something small and silver into her pouch before walking away, smiling like she’d been chosen.
It reminded me of this charm Emma now held.
I could still feel the breeze that day, the warmth of the sun, the low hum of voices around them. His voice had sounded the same then too–smooth as silk steeped in honey.
I sould’ve said something. Emma was still smiling, still turning the charm over in her fingers like it might bloom in her palm.
But the words sat like stones in my throat.
Not now. Not while her cheeks were pink and her voice was light. Not while she looked like she knew with certainty she mattered to someone.
She deserved to hold onto that feeling. Even if it wouldn’t last.
“I’m happy for you,” I said, quietly.
Emma looked at me, her smile turning shy. “I know he’s not perfect. But he makes me feel special. That’s not nothing,
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Chapter 63
I nodded. No, it wasn’t nothing. But I was starting to think it wasn’t enough either,
I left Emma still holding the charm, I didn’t say what I was thinking I just kissed her temple, murmured something about perda del before my restraint cracked.
My feet carried ine through the winding halls without direction. I didn’t want to go back to my room. I didn’t want in sit stil. Sot drated col quieter corridors until the noise of the palace thinned behind me and the familiar scent of rosemary and mint on the breeze told me een l heading.
The secondary courtyard was quieter than the main one–tucked behind the lesser ballroom and often forgotten By visiting nobles. That made it ana që my favorites. The herb gardens were half–shaded by sloping walls, and the stone was warm beneath my shoes as I stepped onto the wiring pathe
I wasn’t looking for anything. Just air. Quiet.
The sky above was streaked with afternoon gold, the kind that made every edge feel softer, more romantic. Somewhere behind me, bella rane for salið. hour tea service. But I kept walking, content in the hush.
Until I saw Larian.
He leaned casually against the marble archway that marked the entrance to the inner rose path. One ankle crossed over the other sleeves rolled up just enough to look approachable without being disheveled. His body language was open, relaxed, rehearsed.
And beside him, one of the other candidates.
Her gown was soft blue and gathered delicately at the waist, embroidered with silver leaves. She tilted her face up toward him, smiling, Laughing Her voice was bright and clear, the kind of laughter that made people turn their heads.
She leaned in slightly, one hand brushing his sleeve. He didn’t pull away. His smile was just as soft.
But it was his hand that made my breath catch–his fingers brushing lightly across her wrist. Affectionate. Familiar. Deliberate.
And he was tying a charm around her wrist. The charm.
Silver. Round. Hanging from a silk cord that matched her dress. The same shape, same sheen. Same delicate runes carved into its face.
The same charm Emma had unwrapped that made her so happy.
Larian lifted the woman’s hand gently, brushing a thumb across the silver coin like it meant everything.
I kept walking. My steps didn’t falter. My posture didn’t change. I passed them at a steady pace, eyes fixed ahead, pulse roaring in my ears. I didn’t look
back.
But inside, something broke clean and sharp.
I should’ve expected it. Larian was a politician long before he was a suitor. Charm was currency here, and he spent it freely.
Still, I wanted to scream.
Emma had believed him. She’d clutched that charm to her chest like it was proof of being chosen, of being wanted. And now I knew–it wasn’t a promise. It was a signature.
A mark he gave to anyone who smiled the right way at the right time that he could use when convenient and discard when he was through.
I reached the far end of the path, slipping through a narrow side passage that led into one of the back galleries. It was cooler here, shadowed, and lined with faded tapestries. I leaned against the wall and exhaled slowly.
Not for the first time, I wished I could be the kind of person who didn’t care. Who could let Emma float on her illusion little while longer, let her feel like the heroine of her own story.
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Chapter 68
But I couldn’t.
Not anymore.
Because I knew that feeling too well–the way hope bloomed when someone looked at you like you could be the air they breathe, and how hard it was to come back from the moment you realized it was all just a practiced trick.
I wouldn’t let Emma fall that far. She deserved truth. Even if it hurt.
Even if it came from me.
I straightened, adjusted the fall of my sleeves, and stepped back into the corridor. My reflection flickered in the polished glass of the gallery’s window- shoulders tight, lips pressed into a flat line.
Larian wouldn’t stop handing out charms.
But I could stop him from hurting someone I loved.
