Chapter 97
"Millicent…" I ignored the symphony of aches echoing through my limbs and rose from the bed. My legs wobbled beneath me as I made my way toward her. She met me halfway and guided me back to the bed in silence.
She made to lay me down, but I clung to her waist.
My heart thundered in my chest. She was not meant to know. We were content, peaceful. We had finally found joy. Why, why did Annette have to shriek like an unhinged banshee? And why, for the love of all things holy, did I not think to mention that Millicent was in the next room?!
"Millicent," I said hastily, "we were only jesting."
Yes. Yes. Jesting. That was plausible. People jest. We jested.
"T-that is correct!" Annette chimed in with the subtlety of a stumbling goat. "W-we were merely amusing ourselves with a little… impromptu theatre!"
She even attempted a smile, but it looked more like she was preparing to faint. The woman was visibly quaking. It was painful to watch.
Oh, for heaven's sake, Annette, at least pretend to be composed! You are making it worse, you ridiculous harpy!
I glanced up at Millicent's face, praying for any indication that I might interpret as forgiveness or, at the very least, merciful confusion. But her expression was unreadable. Yet I felt her hands tremble slightly upon me.
"You need rest," she whispered softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead with heartbreaking tenderness. Then she reached for the bell cord and gave it a tug.
"Your mother and I were merely bonding," I offered brightly, a laugh escaping me. It sounded perfectly natural, I was quite proud of that.
Encouraged, I pressed on. "She was playing the villainess. I was the doomed heroine. Very tragic. There was talk of murder. All terribly dramatic. Honestly, a rather strong performance, I thought."
"Y-yes! Ha, ha. I t-think I did rather too well," Annette added, inching forward.
Oh for heaven's sake.
Madam!
I wanted to cry.
Exit the stage! The curtain has fallen, the audience is weeping, and you are still bowing! Leave the room, woman. Before I lose what shred of composure I have left and personally escort you out by your lace collar!
Her performance was a catastrophe, and I was one breath away from hurling a pillow at her face.
A maid entered swiftly and bowed low.
"Fetch the two nearest guards at once," Millicent commanded. "Then locate Issac and have him report to me immediately. Not a moment is to be lost."
The maid bowed again and fled.
Annette, Grand Duchess and serpent extraordinaire, collapsed to the floor in a graceless heap. Her composure crumbled, her mask torn free by the weight of truth. Meanwhile, Millicent sat beside me and, without a word, folded into my embrace.
"Millicent…" I held her close, as if the gesture might shield her from the pain she refused to show. My heart clenched for her.
"It all makes sense now," she whispered to herself.
"But it is the past," I whispered back. "We swore we would not let it rule us."
She drew back slowly, her crimson eyes still and steady, then rose.
With grace only those born to command can summon, she stood, shoulders straight, chin lifted, gaze sharp as polished steel. The moment she rose, the room shifted. The air thickened. The silence grew heavy.
At that exact instant, the doors flung open. Two guards entered. Behind them came Issac, breathless but composed.
Millicent turned to faced her mother.
"Grand Duchess Annette Vaneeri," she began, her voice like thunder clothed in velvet, "by the authority vested in me as Duchess of Ivoryspire, I hereby charge you with the following crimes."
She took one step forward.
"For the unlawful kidnapping of Florence Lorynthall. For endangering the life of my newborn son. For the orchestrated murders of Dr. Barly and two guards. For trespassing upon the sovereign borders of Ivoryspire without consent. And for the illegal confinement of a noblewoman under false pretenses."
She stood directly before Annette, tall and radiant with righteous wrath, her presence consuming the room like flame.
"I will see justice done."
"Darling, please!" Annette cried, attempting to rise in desperation, but the guards seized her arms with swift precision.
"Unhand me at once! How dare you lay your hands upon a Grand Duchess!"
She looked utterly affronted, as though the room itself had betrayed her.
Millicent spoke calmly, evenly, and without removing her gaze from the woman who had birthed her. "Escort my mother to prison."
"Millicent!" Annette shrieked, twisting against the guard's hold. "You would cast aside your own mother for a woman who nearly murdered you? For her?"
She was dragged toward the doorway, yet her voice rang through the chamber like a cracked bell. "I did it for you! That is how much I love you! You are a mother now, you understand! You would do the same for your children!"
Her words echoed down the hall, fading into distance, becoming nothing but sound and dust.
Millicent remained utterly still. Not a tremble in her posture.
She turned to Issac. "Instruct Captain Astal to begin a full interrogation. I want every account, every detail, every name, no thread is to be left unwound. Compile irrefutable evidence for each charge, thoroughly and without bias. My mother's associations extend to a number of shrewd and politically ambitious houses. They will demand proof, and I shall present them with nothing less than the indisputable."
Issac inclined his head with solemn respect. "At once, Your Grace."
And with that, he departed swiftly.
The moment the door closed behind them, Millicent's composure crumbled.
She sank, as though her strength had been folded away, and there was simply nothing left to hold her upright.
I dropped beside her at once.
That was when I saw her lips quivering, her crimson eyes shimmering, full to the brim with tears she had fought so valiantly to conceal. Her shoulders curved inward with the weight of unbearable sorrow.
I drew her into my arms. This was what I had sought to protect her from. And yet, I had failed.
She did not speak. A broken sob escaped her lips as she buried her face in the hollow of my neck, clutching me as if I were the last safe place in the world. And I held her, helplessly. The ache in my chest swelled until my vision blurred. My heart felt as though it were breaking in tandem with hers, tearing itself apart because it could not bear the sound of her grief.
Millicent Vaneeri, Duchess of Ivoryspire, guardian of law and honor, daughter of a house now stained, had upheld justice without flinching. She had stood with her spine unbent, and then, in the privacy of my arms, she broke from the unbearable weight of righteousness. And I could do nothing but hold her, and weep quietly beside her.