Chapter 42 Grain, Gossip, and Grudges
The back room of the temple smelled like damp stone and dried herbs.
Didier sat on a wooden stool, looking like a drowned rat.
Lysandra was dabbing at his muddy clothes with a damp towel, her movements efficient and surprisingly gentle.
She didn't seem bothered by the mess he'd made.
She just acted like it was normal for the Crown Prince to fall into a koi pond.
"You're shaking," she murmured, not looking up.
"I'm fine," Didier snapped, though his voice lacked any real bite.
After he'd scrubbed the worst of the pond scum off his skin, Lysandra set down a tray. Steam rose from a ceramic mug, and a plate of honey cakes sat beside it. Didier took a bite, the sweetness cutting through the bitter, muddy taste still stuck in his throat.
He stared into his tea. The silence dragged on, heavy and suffocating.
"My mother called me in yesterday," Didier said, his voice dropping low. The memory of her face cold, tired, and unyielding, made his stomach churn. "She knows everything. Or she thinks she does."
Lysandra stopped moving, her hand hovering over the tray. "About us?"
Didier let out a harsh, dry laugh. "About the 'scandal.' She wasn't playing around, Lysandra. She didn't just give me a lecture. She gave me an ultimatum."
He took a breath, his grip tightening on the mug.
"She said the Mercers control the grain supply for half the kingdom. If I pull the plug on this engagement, they'll choke the supply lines. People will starve before winter even hits."
Lysandra's eyes widened, her face draining of color. "That's... that's not just a threat, Didier. That's a catastrophe."
"I know," Didier growled, throwing his hands up. "She basically told me I'm not allowed to have a heart. She said I'd be responsible for thousands of deaths just because I don't want to marry a woman who repulses me."
"You can't fight them, Didier," Lysandra whispered, her voice urgent. "You're the Crown Prince. You have responsibilities. You can't just go against the Empress and the Mercers. It's too dangerous."
"So I should just give up?" Didier slammed his hand onto the table. "I'm tired of being a puppet! I don't love Gisella, and I won't spend my life pretending!"
Lysandra looked down, her cheeks flushing a soft, hesitant pink. She seemed to struggle for a second, shifting the topic to something less explosive. "Maybe... maybe you need to focus on what you can control. Did you hear the news? The Duke d'Alen?on, Claus... he's in the capital."
Didier stiffened. "Claus? Why?"
Lysandra's expression turned dreamy, that weird look of genuine admiration he'd seen before.
"Everyone's talking about it. He's here to handle the border lords. People say he's brilliant. The way he broke that siege last year? Total genius. He's actually... he's sort of an idol of mine. I've read all the reports on his campaigns."
Didier felt his ears heat up, turning a violent shade of red. It wasn't the cold from the pond anymore. It was pure, unadulterated jealousy.
"An idol?" Didier bit out, his voice sharper than he intended.
Lysandra blinked, oblivious to the fact that he was currently having a mental breakdown. "Well, yes. He's a legend, isn't he? Don't you admire him, too?"
Didier stood up abruptly, pacing the small room. He knew Claus. They were brothers, for heaven's sake. But hearing the woman he was hopelessly in love with talk about Claus like he was some kind of flawless hero? It made his skin crawl.
"He's a blunt instrument," Didier muttered, staring out the window so he wouldn't have to look at her. His ears were burning. "Just a soldier. Nothing more."
Lysandra just tilted her head, confused by his sudden sour mood. "I think he's fascinating."
Didier grit his teeth. He really, really needed to find his brother. And he really needed to stop his ears from looking like ripe tomatoes.