CHAPTER 27
Jun 5, 2025
CADEN’S POV
The weight of Lord Brennan’s disappointment hung on his face as I stood before him.
“You requested my presence, Lord Brennan?” I kept my voice steady, neutral.
“Tell me, Prince Caden,” he finally said, setting down his quill with deliberate slowness. “Is it common practice in Verloren to break sacred betrothals on a whim?”
I met his gaze without flinching. “There was nothing whimsical about my decision, my lord.”
“No?” His eyebrow arched. “Then perhaps you could enlighten me as to why my daughter—who has been preparing to be your wife and queen for over a year—now finds herself abandoned and humiliated before the entire diplomatic corps?”
The words were designed to cut, to provoke. But I had spent too many years mastering my emotions to rise to the bait now.
“Lord Brennan,” I said carefully, “I hold your daughter in the highest esteem. She is intelligent, accomplished, and would have made a formidable queen. The failure here is entirely mine.”
“That much is obvious,” he snapped, leaning forward. “What is less clear is the reason. Political alliances between our houses have been in place for generations. Your father and I spent years negotiating the terms of this union.”
“Yes, you and my father,” I emphasized. “Not I.”
“So it’s childish rebellion, then?” He scoffed. “I expected better from the King’s son.”
My jaw tightened. “It’s not rebellion to acknowledge a truth I’ve been denying too long. I am already married—”
“To a woman you haven’t shared…,” he interrupted. “A political arrangement that everyone understood was a youthful mistake.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I said, keeping my tone respectful but firm. “My marriage to Elara wasn’t the mistake. The mistake was letting others convince me it was.”
Lord Brennan studied me in silence, his shrewd eyes taking in every nuance of my expression. I’d seen that same calculating look at diplomatic negotiations, sizing up opponents, looking for weaknesses.
“You love her,” he said finally, not a question but a realization.
“I do,” I replied simply.
“And Isolde?”
“Deserves someone who loves her with his whole heart,” I answered honestly. “Not someone who’s merely performing his duty.”
He leaned back in his chair, tension draining from his posture. “I should be furious with you.”
“By all rights, you should,” I agreed.
“Yet I find myself,” he sighed, “remembering what it was to be young and in love. Before duty and politics consumed everything.”
This unexpected turn caught me off guard. Lord Brennan had always been the epitome of the pragmatic politician, emotions firmly in check.
“Love is a luxury in our position,” he continued, almost to himself. “One I thought my daughter understood.”
“She did,” I said quietly. “She accepted our arrangement knowing exactly what it was. The fault is mine for allowing it to progress when my heart was elsewhere.”
He nodded slowly, then reached for a small bell on his desk, signaling our conversation was drawing to a close. “I’ll have to reconsider our trade agreements with Verloren, of course. Can’t appear too eager after such a slight.”
I recognized the political maneuvering for what it was—saving face. “I understand completely. Verdana is prepared to offer generous terms to maintain our alliance.”
“See that you do,” he said, but there was no real heat in his words. “Tell me, Prince Caden, is she worth the political fallout this will cause? The whispers, the renegotiations, your father’s anger?”
“Without question,” I replied without hesitation.
Something like respect flickered in his eyes. “Then I wish you luck. You’ll need it.”
I bowed formally. “Thank you for your understanding, Lord Brennan.”
I left his study feeling strangely lighter, one hurdle cleared. But as I stepped into the corridor, I saw Isolde herself waiting, eyes red-rimmed but her posture regal as ever.
“Isolde,” I said softly, approaching her with caution. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I wanted to hear it from you directly,” she said, her voice remarkably steady despite the tears tracking down her cheeks. “Not through intermediaries or gossip.”
I owed her that much, at least. “I am truly sorry, Isolde. The engagement—it was unfair to both of us.”
“Because you still love her,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Your wife.”
“Yes,” I admitted, seeing no point in denying what was clearly written across my face. “I tried to convince myself otherwise, but…”
“But the heart wants what it wants,” she finished for me. “Even when it’s politically inconvenient.”
Her perception had always been one of her greatest strengths. In another life, another world, she would have made an excellent partner.
“You deserve someone who cherishes you completely,” I told her, meaning every word. “Not someone who’s divided.”
“I know my worth, Caden,” she said with quiet dignity. “I don’t need your validation for that.”
I nodded, properly chastened. “Of course not.”
She studied me for a long moment. “Is she good to you? Does she make you happy?”
The question caught me off guard and I smiled without a word.
Something like wistfulness crossed her features. “Then I wish you well. Truly.”
With that, she turned and walked away, her head high, every inch the diplomat’s daughter. I watched her go with a mixture of regret and relief.
