Chapter 2Of Longing and Parting

The initial hint of intimacy vanished. Duke Theron’s voice was now tinged with irritation. “Arthur is just a child! As his mother, your failure to raise him properly is your fault. It is extraordinary clemency that I have not held you accountable. How dare you act so petulant?”

Mother? I laughed, a bitter, self-mocking sound.

Years ago, Duke Theron had fallen deeply in love with my legitimate sister, Seraphina Hayes. Disregarding differences in station, he had married her, elevating the entire Hayes family overnight from obscurity to prominence within the Capital. From a minor border commander guarding the remote Sunken Sands, he became a powerful Duke Regent. They had lived in perfect harmony, a love story envied by all. But cruel fate intervened, and my sister perished in childbirth.

Fearing their newfound influence might wane, the Hayes family sent me to be a replacement. Duke Theron, heartbroken by Seraphina’s passing, refused to marry any other woman as his Duchess. Yet, he pitied young Arthur, who was left without a mother’s care. So, our two families negotiated an eight-year pact: I would remain in the Regent’s Keep as a Lady Companion. Though a Lady Companion, I held no marriage contract, nor was my name entered into the Royal Registry. A mere written agreement had sealed my fate, binding my entire life. How absurd. For eight years, I had served as Arthur’s mother. Yet, strictly speaking, I remained an unmarried woman.

I gathered my thoughts, my voice calm. “I am not being petulant. The pact has expired.” I continued, my gaze steady. “Remaining in the Keep without official status would only bring ridicule upon you and the young Lord.”

Duke Theron’s tightly furrowed brow relaxed slightly. His gaze held a mixture of probing and challenge, yet his tone softened by a fraction. “If you could bear an heir for the Keep, I would naturally inscribe your name and the child’s into the House Chronicles, elevating you to the status of a true Lady Companion…”

“No need.”

No one willingly debases themselves, choosing to live as a mere placeholder. In this life, I had already suffered enough as a baseborn child. How could I bear to let my own child suffer the same fate?

I straightened my robes and retrieved the steward’s ledger and the deeds to the ducal estates and businesses from my chamber. “A few days ago, I painstakingly settled all the accounts. The Keep’s head steward is my sister’s dowry retainer; she will seamlessly take over my duties.” I added, my voice devoid of emotion, “Arthur has grown. He should be taught by renowned scholars. My own knowledge is shallow, and I am ill-suited to raise him further.”

Duke Theron casually waved a hand. The immensely valuable land deeds, the stacks of gold coin receipts, and the parchment of our binding agreement scattered across the floor like dust. He stepped on them, utterly without remorse. “Elara Hayes, do not presume too much.” His voice was laced with menace. “Considering it is your birthday, I shall not press the matter. Remain in your chambers for these next few days, and reflect.”

With a heavy boom, the vermilion wooden door slammed shut, separating our two worlds. I gazed at the slowly ascending light in the night sky and smiled, a mirthless curl of my lips. It was a wish lantern, sent aloft to celebrate my birthday and offer blessings. But today was not my birthday. It was the day Duke Theron and my sister had first met.

The night before I was sent to the Keep, my mother, Lady Hayes, had sought me out. She told me to memorize every detail of my sister, to mimic her every word and gesture. “Elara, only by doing so will the Duke Regent look upon you favorably. Only then can you secure your position in the Keep.”

As she had predicted, Duke Theron, who usually paid me no mind, meticulously remembered my birthday. It was the only day of the year I looked forward to, the only day I felt a semblance of warmth, a flicker of care, a fleeting sense of belonging. But… stolen moments always have to be returned.

Lost in thought, a sharp sting pierced my forehead. Arthur, perched atop the garden wall, triumphantly raised his slingshot. “If you insist on lingering in the Keep, one day, it won’t be a stone hitting your forehead, but a sharp arrow!” He gloated over his precise shot, utterly forgetting that I was the one who had patiently taught him to ride and shoot, hand over hand.

That year, Lady Hayes had placed the infant Arthur into my arms. Her words had been earnest. “The kindness of nurture surpasses the bond of birth. If you truly care for him, Arthur will grow to see you as his true mother and treat you with utmost filial devotion. No matter what, you are family, connected by blood.”

The Hayes family had placed great expectations upon me. And I, amidst the deceptive grandeur of the Keep, had nurtured a forbidden fantasy. Yet, eight years had passed. This father and son… one saw me as nothing. The other… hated me to the bone.