Chapter 23
After assigning men to track Elvira at all times, Alistair returned to the palace to attend to state affairs.
No matter where Elvira went, Alistair always found time–once his duties were complete–to follow from a distance. Close enough to see, far enough not
to be seen.
Vesper held Elvira’s hand, silently frustrated, yet helpless.
Even though he was the top–ranked assassin in the kingdom, he could not possibly fend off Alistair’s endless waves of spies and killers.
What’s more, if he killed too many innocent people and Elvira found out, she would surely be furious.
And he didn’t want to make her angry.
So, Vesper pretended not to notice, sticking close to Elvira at all times, never leaving her side.
Five years passed in the blink of an eye. Julius had grown into a well–mannered young boy.
On the day of his birthday feast, he approached Elvira holding a box. Though he usually remained calm and composed, today he seemed a little anxious.
“Mother, may I accept this birthday gift?”
Elvira looked at him curiously. She opened the simple yet exquisitely crafted ebony and ivory jewelry casket. Inside, the Ring of the Archangels, the symbol of royal authority, gleamed before her eyes.
Clatter.
Startled, Elvira’s hands trembled, and the box fell onto the table. Thankfully, it wasn’t damaged.
“Julius, who gave you this gift? How could he send you something like this? Do you know who he is?”
She could barely contain the panic rising in her chest. There was only one person who could have sent this.
She had thought that after five years, Alistair had truly let go–that their lives would never intertwine again.
But now, he had resurfaced.
Julius lowered his head nervously.
“Mother, he’s an older friend of mine. His surname is Adler, and I call him Uncle Adler. He taught me many things about governing a kingdom and understanding human nature. I didn’t expect him to give me this. Did I do something wrong?”
Elvira felt her anger ignite. She hadn’t expected Alistair to still be clinging to this obsession. He hadn’t given up!
A cold dread crept up her spine.
Was he trying to use her son to force her back into the palace–just like the prime minister had once used her mother’s life to coerce her?
Shortly after she entered the palace back then, her mother had died while being demoted and stripped of rank. Elvira had been trapped in the palace and hadn’t even been allowed to say goodbye.
Was she going to be dragged into another nightmare like that?
And hadn’t Alistair already married? Wasn’t there a queen now?
Five years ago, after they parted, news of the king’s marriage had spread throughout the kingdom.
Why was he still coming after her?
Elvira couldn’t make sense of it. Strapping on her bow and quiver, she stormed outside in fury.
“Julius, take me to Alistair!”
Just as Julius turned to lead her, Alistair appeared in front of them. Silas stood beside him, holding a royal decree.
“By the Grace of God, King Alistair, King of Asteria, proclaims: To all loyal subjects,
Our beloved Queen Elvira Frost has served with honor, and Our heir, Prince Julius, has proven himself wise and just. Therefore, we decree: Upon Our passing, Prince Julius shall ascend the throne as the rightful King, to rule with justice and protect the realm. All nobles and people shall pledge allegiance to him.”
Silas read aloud, and the servants behind him echoed the proclamation. Everyone present bowed in unison.
Chapter 23
INSTALL
Google Play FREE 4.4
ikeeاہر دکھائیں
Likee
32.39%
Bearing, Silas stuffed the decree into Julius’s hands, completely ignoring Vesper’s knife–sharp gaze.
“Congratulations, Your Majesty. Congratulations, Your Highness. The coronation ceremony is ready. We’re just waiting for the prince to return to the capital.”
Elvira’s fury blazed in her eyes. Ignoring the watching crowd, she slapped Alistair across the face.
“Alistair, have you lost your mind? Julius is not your son, and I am not your queen!”
Vesper appeared like a phantom at Alistair’s side, the tip of his blade pressed against his throat.
“Withdraw the decree. From now on, we are nothing to you. If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”
But Alistair’s laughter was a blade wrapped in silk. “I’ve already decreed it–Julius has the makings of a king. The court agrees. You don’t get to refuse.”
His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from Elvira’s face, lingering like a man savoring his last breath of air. “I told you, darling. I’m past sanity. Whether you loathe me or not, I’ll stay.”
Before Vesper could react, before Elvira could scream–Julius was gone. Whisked away in a flurry of royal guards, crowned before the sun had set.
The boy willingly knelt for the heavy circlet.
And when the throne accepted him, the realm held its breath.
Julius, barely tall enough to see over the council table, commanded with a quiet intensity that silenced even the most ambitious lords.
The former prime minister had long been exiled, dying along the way.
In a small cottage nestled in the mountains, Vesper held Elvira’s hand, teaching her swordsmanship.
Even as Alistair stubbornly kept watch in the neighboring courtyard, she did not spare him a single glance.
1
