Chapter 26: Carelessness or Care Too Much?

The Mistress shivered beneath the crown prince’s haunting gaze. In all her years of service within the palace, aside from the first prince, it was the crown prince she had taken the greatest care never to cross; the one she avoided above all, and this is the reason why. The only one ’fortunate’ enough to be his audience are those who was caught red-handed.

She spoke urgently. Though time had worn her, the strength and dignity she once carried as a noblewoman still held firm. “Your Highness, if it is Liana you seek, I assure you she knows nothing of the matter. Dragging her into this will only waste your time.”

Levan merely nodded, his silence weighted enough to make her shift uncomfortably. “I will decide whose time is wasted.”

The Mistress insisted, daring to look straight into Levan’s eyes with unbroken poise. “She is but a child in service, my prince. She only followed instructions, nothing more.”

Levan blinked slowly, almost as if he was already bored with the negotiation. “Whose instructions?”

“Mine,” she answered unhesitatingly, perhaps too bluntly to the point that she did not think before she speaks.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the faintest rare curve touched the prince’s mouth. A smile, but one entirely without warmth. It was morbidly interesting how even the slightest tremor of nerves could send someone careening off the path they thought they controlled. She was no better.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, somehow impressed at how ridiculous this had gone. “A moment ago, you claimed it was not by your command. But when I summon your daughter, suddenly it is yours. Do you see the absurdity of that claim, Mistress?”

Levan’s words cut clean, and colour drained from the Mistress’ face as she went pale in fright. Because when she had first placed Liana among the palace maids, she had not announced her as her daughter. Few knew of the connection by her own choice. It had been easier to shield the girl that way.

Levan noticed her reaction, and he took pleasure from it. “So you thought I wouldn’t notice that you had placed your own blood in service and kept it hidden. And now, when her name was brought up, you claim her faults as your own. Tell me—” his golden eyes glinted, sharp as a blade, “—are you protecting the girl, or the one who gave the order?”

The Mistress’ composure wavered. She had spent decades ruling over the palace staff with stern discipline and never faltering. But now, before the prince, the mask she wore so effortlessly seemed to fissure. She could not fathom how the matter had reached his ears. From Liana’s report, the gullible princess had shown nothing in her reaction that might have betrayed what had transpired.

“You’re hesitating,” he noted, his tone almost casual, though every syllable bore down like a judgment. “It would be easier if there were no lies in between us, Mistress. Lies complicate negotiation. Truth, however, might yet buy mercy.”

The Mistress hands clenched in her skirts, her knuckles paling.

He regarded her quietly, clearly had seen enough. “I have no interest in punishing a scapegoat. If it is the girl you are trying to shield, speak plainly. I may still spare your daughter, provided the one who gave the order is named.”

The Mistress finally raised her head, conflict written across her lined face. Her eyes, usually sharp with command, flickered with maternal fear, because what mother would sacrifice their daughter just to shield someone else? She swallowed hard, and when she finally spoke, her voice was steady, but stripped bare of defense.

“It was not Liana,” she said, her voice trembled a bit. “Nor was it Theana, though the girl vanished under the burden of it. The order came higher.”

Levan’s voice lowered. “Go on.”

The Mistress bowed her head, reluctant to reveal the promise she swore to protect. Her voice wavered when she speak of the name, “It…It was Lady Seraphine, Your Highness. She gave the command…”

The words hung in the chamber like ash. For all her regal bearing, the Mistress could not hide the fear that laced her hands now, betraying her turmoil at speaking against one of the highest ladies who still held influence inside the palace even after her departure.

Levan watched her with a calm that felt like a blade. The truth of the balcony’s orchestrator barely registered as a surprise. “Seraphine,” he murmured, as if he had known all along. “Naturally.”

Seraphine…

It was in her nature to linger, like smoke after a fire, unwelcome yet impossible to wave away. She had lost her place as his betrothed long ago, but she certainly had not lost her ambition nor her appetite for proximity to him. No matter how carefully she cloaked her desperation in regality, her actions betrayed it all too clearly.

Although Levan was well aware of it, he gave it no recognition. Whatever affection Seraphine still clung to was hers alone to bear. To him, the bond had been cut clean, and he had no intention of stitching life back into something that was already severed. For all it was worth, their engagement had been nothing more than one of the few favourable options, much like his marriage to Ilaria.

And for whatever reason Seraphine had issued such an act, it was already enough to give him a headache and he can feel the long sigh coming from within his throat already.

Levan’s gaze cut through the Mistress after much thought. He had little desire to waste more time on such trivialities, yet protocol demanded that order be upheld. “You may leave, but hear me well, expect punishment later in the day.” His voice did not rise, yet it struck heavier than a shout, causing the Mistress to shift in unease.

He returned to his desk languidly, the morning light casting his sharp profile in gold. “I will personally select and rearrange the maids who serve my wife, so I expect a complete record of every girl currently stationed in her chambers including their names, years of service, recommendations, and household ties.” His eyes flicked back, daring her to falter. “Bring it to me before the hour ends.”

The Mistress bowed low, but his words allowed no argument. “Starting today,” Levan continued tersely, each syllable crisp, “the princess’ chamber will be under the eyes of those I deem fit. Not yours.”

The finality in his voice was suffocating. At last, the Mistress murmured her assent, her composure cracked just slightly beneath the weight of his command. Levan dismissed her with a flick of his hand, already turning his attention away as if the matter were decided, because it was.

The moment she was gone, Levan’s composure shifted. One matter settled, it is time to complete the morning before everything fall into places. “I’ll be back within the hour,” he said to the Chamberlain. “If I am delayed, see to it that the list of names is retrieved from the Mistress.”

“Understood, sire,” Marion inclined his head and bowed deeply as Levan strode past him and out of the chamber. He has only one destination in the morning, a ritual he had set for himself since long ago. The palace was already alive by now. Servants peeked from corners but did not approach; the crown prince moved with a certainty that brooked no interruption.

He walked to the end of the palace wing and turned a familiar corner, reaching the solarium of his late mother in no time. The familiar warmth and scent greeted him. Sunlight streamed through the glass ceiling, illuminating the table laid with fresh coffee and pastries. The former handmaiden, Kathryn, had already replaced the morning tray.

Levan paused at the threshold, golden eyes scanning the table as though it held a living presence. For a brief moment, the weight of memory pressed on him, but he dismissed it entirely. He had kept this routine for years, a silent vow to honour her memory and, quietly, to steel himself for the search that always followed. Even then, if there was one thing he could never be accustomed to, it would be this.

“You’re late today, Your Highness,” Kathryn said as she arranged the last of the pastries delicately. Freshly baked goods that looked so pretty to the eyes, a pity they would be discarded by the end of the day.

Levan flicked his eyes towards Kathryn and crossed the threshold, as if he was merely visiting his mother in her chamber like he used to. “I was detained. It seems the Mistress’ handpicked maids are not as loyal as I thought they would be.”

“So as I’ve told you,” Kathryn hummed, as she had expected it to happen long ago. She realigned the almond financiers on the cake stand with ease. “You should have overseen the appointments yourself instead of leaving it all in her hands, putting Melyn alone was never going to be sufficient.”

Levan said nothing at first, his steps carrying him unhurriedly to the chair that had once belonged to his mother. He lowered himself into it, fingers brushing the carved armrest as if testing its memory. For a long moment, he stared at the untouched cup on the table, mulling over the time when Kathryn had told him the exact words before his marriage.

Finally, he sighed. “Carelessness,” he admitted quietly. “On my part.”

The word was foreign on his tongue, but not bitter, only factual, as he know when to admit when he misjudged his order. He let his gaze flick toward Kathryn, steady and unguarded in a way they rarely were with others. Because if there was anyone he was slightly comfortable with, it would be Kathryn.

She had served the late Queen long before he was born. And maybe because she carried some sort of familiarity and resemblance to the woman who used to be the light of his world, he allowed himself this short moment of indulgence. Frankly, a moment of unguarded honesty he would never grant another.

Kathryn poured a fresh coffee into a new cup, not the one meant for the late Queen’s table. She asked, “How has the princess been faring under your watch?”

Levan took the cup without so much as a second thought. “As expected.”

“Mm,” Kathryn hummed, looking at him with the same maternal kind of eyes he was used to now. “Expected is good, but it is not the same as content.”

He took a sip and let the bitter taste swirl in his tongue. “You think I was responsible for her contentment?”

“I think,” she said, her eyes crinkling as though she held a secret, “that a wife does not wither when her husband spares her more than duty.”

Levan’s lips thinned, and he leaned back in the chair as if the words had mildly offended him. “You presume much.”

“And you deflect much,” Kathryn countered lightly. “But you’ll learn, sooner or later. Better sooner, for her sake and yours.”

Levan let the words sink in and did not bother to reply as he let his gaze drifted to the cake stand and linger over the pastries without thought. This was his ritual: to come here, sit in this chair, and remain for a long time doing nothing. Because to him, the day was only worth beginning after he had visited his mother’s sanctuary. Otherwise, nothing seemed to matter.

But as his eyes traced the familiar cake stand, expecting the same delicacies displayed in their unchanging beauty, something peculiar caught his attention.

“Kathryn,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the cake stand. “I don’t recall my mother ever having a taste for macarons.”

Kathryn did not stir, only smile knowingly as she continue to realign the sweets. “No, she did not, but the princess thought Her Majesty might have loved them. She baked these herself and asked me to place them here.”

For a breath, Levan did not say anything. His hand that was resting against the carved arm of the chair curled slightly, betraying what his face did not. The sudden thought of Ilaria fumbling her way through the kitchen and leaving a gift for a woman she had never met…it unsettled him. Not unpleasantly, but with a weight he could not name.

His gaze lingered on the pink macarons. It was out of place, but in some strange way, they did not disrupt the sanctuary. They fit just fine, as though the princess had quietly been allowed to step into this hallowed place and leave behind her own thread of light. That made Levan wonder, why…would she even bother?

He exhaled slowly, almost inaudibly. “Foolish girl,” he murmured, but there was no edge in it.

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