Chapter 19: You Can’t Take Her Away
When the mother and son were finally reunited after their harrowing ordeal, emotions overflowed. After calming Theodric, she summoned the court physician to the palace. The young lord was then carried away by his nursemaid.
Princess Aveline sat down, her gaze softening as she turned to Isolde. “You saved Theodric. That makes you my savior. Tell me, what reward would you like? Or is there some favor you wish to ask? Speak freely.”
Isolde smiled faintly. “You are too generous, Your Highness. I do have a small request.”
“Go on, don’t hesitate,” Princess Aveline urged, her joy still shining in her eyes.
Swallowing her dry throat, Isolde said, “Your Highness, may I ask for a sip of water and perhaps two buns? I haven’t had a drop to drink or a crumb to eat since yesterday. I’m utterly parched and famished.”
The princess blinked, clearly startled, and quickly signaled her attendants to act.
Moments later, a cup of tea was placed before her, followed by platters of elegant pastries. Isolde drank deeply, the cool water a balm to her thirst. She then devoured several pastries with haste, gradually feeling her strength return.
“Are your injuries serious?” Princess Aveline asked, her tone gentle with concern.
“It’s nothing, Your Highness,” Isolde replied, standing up. “Everything has been tended to. But I must return home now. If I stay away another night, my father will surely worry.”
“You’re Isolde, correct? I recall Geoffrey has a daughter who recently returned from the countryside. That would be you, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Isolde answered with calm confidence.
The old matron standing beside the princess frowned slightly, her gaze lingering on Isolde with curiosity and doubt. The princess gestured for Isolde to sit again. “Isolde, I’ve sent for the physician. Stay here a while longer and rest.”
The matron stepped closer and murmured something into the princess’s ear. Princess Aveline stiffened, her expression shifting from surprise to anger. “Who is spreading such rumors?”
“Everyone outside is saying it,” the matron replied quietly.
Though the words were whispered, Isolde caught them and froze, her expression incredulous. “They’re saying I eloped?”
The matron hesitated before awkwardly admitting, “Miss, the word outside is that you left the capital with a man yesterday… that you ran away together.”
Isolde’s voice turned sharp. “I was abducted yesterday, drugged, and taken to Wolf Mountain. I was locked in a dungeon where I found the young lord. It was only thanks to Marshal Oliver…”
“Oliver?” The princess’s surprise deepened. “Where is he now?”
“He has already rallied his forces to raid Wolf Mountain and eliminate the bandits. Your Highness, you may ask him for the full account.” Isolde rose again, her tone resolute. “If such slander is being spread, my father is bound to hear of it—and likely believe it. Your Highness, I must leave at once.”
The princess stood with her, concern shadowing her face. “Isolde, are you certain you don’t need my help?”
Isolde gave her a steady look, her eyes calm but resolute. “No, Your Highness. I believe my father will trust me in the end.”
With a swift bow, she turned and left.
What Isolde did not know was that, in the wake of these rumors, the Valen family had wasted no time in breaking off her engagement.
When she arrived at the gates of her family’s manor, she saw Margaret and William stepping out. Back then, she had burned this image into her memory—the smug, cruel smile of Margaret as she threw herself into the flames. Even now, after her time travel, the memory lingered like a wound that refused to heal. Their eyes met. Margaret’s gaze was filled with disdain, while Isolde’s burned with quiet, unrelenting hatred.
Matilda, who had personally escorted the Marchioness and William out, froze at the sight of Isolde, her eyes widening in shock as if she had seen a ghost. “Isolde, you’ve returned?” she stammered, her composure faltering. But the panic in her voice was fleeting as a thought came to her—now that the engagement had been broken, Isolde’s return could do nothing to threaten her daughter Eleanor’s future marriage.
William shot her a cold glance and spat. “You shameless slut!” he sneered with utter disdain.
Isolde replied with calm detachment. “A coward clinging to his mother’s skirts—what exactly are you so proud of?”
William’s face turned crimson, his neck stiff with rage. Marchioness Eldermere’s expression darkened as she scolded him sharply. “William, what kind of behavior is this? When did I ever teach you to speak like a vulgar street urchin?”
She turned toward Isolde, softening her features into a pleasant smile, though her eyes gleamed with icy malice. “Isolde, dear, if you don’t care for William, just say so. Neither the Marquis nor your father would force you into this.”
The two stood close, less than a foot apart. Isolde could have reached out and wrapped her fingers around the lady’s slender, alabaster neck—but she didn’t. She lowered her gaze, concealing the flicker of murder in her eyes. “So, you’ve come to annul the betrothal?”
Marchioness Eldermere’s smile remained composed. “Yes, ending the engagement is best for both of you. You’ve saved the Marquis’s life; our families will remain connected.”
Chapter 19: You Can’t Take Her Away!
Isolde’s lips curved into a faint, cold smile. “You’re right, my lady. We’ll certainly… remain connected.”
The Marchioness responded with a polite nod, but her departing glance was brimming with contempt. “Tell your father the engagement gifts won’t be reclaimed. Consider them our thanks for saving the Marquis.”
Her words made it clear: this was a decision orchestrated between her and Matilda. Isolde’s father had no part in it.
As the Marquis’s carriage rolled away, Isolde slowly turned her gaze to Matilda. Matilda’s triumphant smirk had barely faded as she gave orders to the servants. “Go to the High Court of Parliament. Inform the Duke that Lady Matilda has returned.”
The butler emerged, his lips curling into a sinister smile. “Well, well, you dare to return, my lady?”
Isolde’s expression was calm, her tone icy. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Matilda dropped her facade of warmth and snapped coldly, “Shameless girl! You’ve disgraced the Duke’s estate!”
Isolde stepped closer, her voice a quiet, cutting blade. “Is that so?”
Exhausted and unwilling to waste words, Isolde turned and went straight back to the Pearl Tower, collapsing into bed. Her dreams were plagued with nightmares. The horrors of Wolf Mountain lingered in her mind, leaving her thoughts stretched taut. Barely an hour later, she jolted awake.
“Helena!” she called out.
When no one answered, she got up and walked out. When she saw Jacqueline walk in, she asked, “Where’s Helena?”
Jacqueline shook her head nervously. “I… I don’t know, my lady.”
A chill ran through Isolde. Helena had gone ahead to the High Court of Parliament. Something was wrong. Her chest tightened as dread clawed at her heart. She grabbed Jacqueline by the collar, her voice sharp and urgent. “Speak. Where is Helena?”
Startled, Jacqueline stammered, “The Duke… he’s locked her in the woodshed.”
Without hesitation, Isolde pushed her aside and ran. She kicked open the woodshed door and froze in place, horror gripping her. Helena’s once-delicate face was swollen beyond recognition, her skin bruised and bloodied. Her breathing was shallow, her body broken. She was clinging to life by the barest thread.
Isolde knelt beside her, gently brushing her trembling fingers across Helena’s battered face. “Helena…” she whispered hoarsely.
Helena’s swollen eyelids fluttered. When she saw Isolde’s face, tears streamed down her cheeks. She tried to lift her head, her voice rasping as she clutched at Isolde’s sleeve. “My lady… forgive me… The butler… he has my brother…”
“Don’t speak,” Isolde murmured, her voice soft yet firm. “It’s all right. I’m here now. Don’t say another word.”
Lifting Helena carefully into her arms, Isolde carried her out. The butler and two guards blocked her way outside. His tone was cold and unyielding. “My lady, the Duke ordered her to remain here until you returned. You’re not to take her.”