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Chapter 9
“You’re not worried he might hear you?”
“Let him,” Cecily said with a careless laugh. “Men are simple creatures. Give them a little affection, and they’ll give you their soul.”
Eleanor stood hidden in the shadows at the corridor’s bend, unseen, unheard. A cruel curiosity gripped her–what would Roland’s face look like if he heard those words? That proud prince, who once bled for her, reduced to a mere plaything.
Roland Thorne–this is the woman you risked your life to love.
Her lips curled into a bitter smile. Without a sound, she turned and walked away.
From the Silver Chalice Inn, she rode straight to St. Elara’s Abbey.
Her mother’s grave lay within the abbey’s cloister, a simple stone among the sisters‘ plots. Kneeling, Eleanor traced the carved name with trembling fingers, whispering a prayer for her soul.
“Mother… I’m to be wed,” she murmured. “To Lord Edmund of Westmarch–the one with one foot in the grave. It’s not so bad. At least he won’t keep a mistress.”
The wind stirred the grass at her knees. It felt almost like a silent reply.
“Don’t worry,” Eleanor whispered, tracing her fingers over the carved name. “I won’t be like you. I won’t love someone so deeply it kills me. That kind of devotion… it’s foolish. I’ll live, and I’ll live well.”
As dusk fell, she rose, casting one last glance at the grave before walking away.
That night, she packed. Every gown, every jewel, every book.
She packed like someone who knew she would never return.
At first light, a courier arrived from her father.
A chest of gold—one million crowns–and a short message: The Wolvestons grow impatient. You leave today.
Baldwin didn’t even look up from his wine. “You’ve been paid well. As for Roland-”
“I’ve already made arrangements,” Eleanor cut in. “From this day forward, he belongs to Cecily. He’s her sworn guard now. I’ve no further need for him.”
A beat of silence. Then, for the first time in years, Lord Viremont’s voice softened.
“Eleanor… despite everything, I loved you. And your mother.”
She turned, lips curling in amusement. “I used to think you were just a coward. Now I see it clearly. You’re vile.”
With that, she left him—no glance back.
Outside, the carriage stood ready. As servants loaded her trunks, Roland stepped out from his quarters, eyes catching on the mountain of luggage,
“You’re moving, my lady?” he asked, brow furrowed.
Eleanor didn’t look at him. “A change of residence.”
He nodded, asking no further questions. Of course he didn’t realize she meant leaving Crownspire for the wilds of Westmarch.
“I’ll help,” he offered.
“No need.” She finally looked him in the eye. “You’ve got other duties now.”
“What duties?”
“Run to the market. Buy a cone of candied almonds. Take it to Rosewing Court. Cecily’s expecting it.”
Roland blinked, startled “Why?”
You’ll understand when you get there.”
no
She watched his throat shift as he swallowed. Something flickered behind those usually unreadable eyes hesitation, perhaps, Longing But in the end, luis desire to see Cecily overcame it
Then he paused, as it remembering something “My lady, once you’re settled, send me your new address. I’ll move my belongings and restane my post ” Chapter 9
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He was her personal guard, sworn to protect her. That was their arrangement.
But this time, she said nothing.
He waited, but she remained silent. So at last, he turned and left.
He had just reached the manor gates when he thought he heard her say something.
“What?” he called, turning back.
She stood in the early light of dawn, haloed in gold.
“It’s nothing,” Eleanor said softly. “You should go.”
Once his silhouette vanished into the distance, she stepped into the carriage and told the driver, “Let’s go.”
The wheels rolled forward. The city blurred behind her.
From within her cloak, she drew out the token of his oath–Roland’s guard insignia.
With a quiet snap, she broke it in two and tossed it out the window.
It landed among the gravel, and was gone.
Chipler
