Chapter 19: The Duke Arrival at Dawn

Moonwell Estate – Lysandra's Room

The brush moved in slow, deliberate strokes through Lysandra's long white-blonde hair. Each pass felt like an effort to smooth out the chaos inside her, though nothing could quiet the storm in her chest.

Beside her on the vanity lay the scroll—thick parchment, sealed in crimson wax and etched with the Landon crest. A symbol of unity. Of strategy. Of sacrifice.

She stared into the mirror, her pale reflection half-swallowed by shadow.

A whisper slipped from her lips. "Now the whole world is watching."

A soft knock.

Maika stood in the doorway, her presence quiet but commanding.

"They're going to start asking questions," Lysandra said, eyes still locked on her reflection. She didn't turn.

Maika entered, her footsteps light as dusk. "Let them," she said, her voice low, composed. "We already have our answers."

Lysandra's fingers tightened around the brush. "And if they suspect? If they find out the truth?"

Maika moved behind her and placed both hands gently on her shoulders, grounding her. "Then we make sure it's too late for them to act on it."

---

Moonwell Estate – The Balcony

Moonlight poured over the estate like liquid silver, painting the marble in soft glows. The scent of night-blooming roses curled in the air, sweet and sharp.

Preparations echoed faintly inside the manor—whispers, footsteps, rustling silk. The announcement would go out by dawn, and with it, the illusion of control.

Caveen stood alone, his back to the world, a glass of dark wine in hand. He hadn't touched it. The weight of everything—of lineage, secrets, duty—pressed against his spine like invisible armor.

The sound of silk brushing against stone drew his attention.

Lysandra stepped onto the balcony, her robe billowing in the gentle night breeze. Their eyes met—quiet, searching.

"I thought you'd be asleep," he said, setting the glass aside.

"I tried." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "But my name is about to be bound to yours, and I needed a moment… to breathe."

He nodded, slowly. "Same."

Silence fell, but it wasn't empty. It was thick with questions neither of them had the words to ask.

Lysandra moved beside him, close enough to feel his warmth. Her hand—pale, trembling—rested on her abdomen.

"I feel her," she whispered. "Growing stronger by the day. Like wildfire and gravity… She isn't just power. She's intent. She's choosing to live. Choosing this world."

Caveen turned to her, his gaze softening. "Then we make it worth choosing. Together."

Her eyes flicked to him, uncertain. "Even if we don't love each other?"

He looked skyward, the moon a pale witness to all they couldn't say.

"Maybe love doesn't always start with a flame," he murmured. "Maybe sometimes it starts with a choice. One we make again and again… not because it's easy, but because it's right."

Lysandra's lips quivered. She looked away, then back, something fragile blooming behind her eyes.

"That's… oddly comforting."

The breeze stirred again, and instinctively, Caveen shrugged off his coat and draped it around her shoulders. She didn't resist. She let it happen.

The silence that followed was different.

Not heavy. Not painful.

Peaceful.

Safe.

"We should rest," he said softly. "Tomorrow, everything begins."

"And the world will judge," she replied with a tired smile.

He looked at her one last time, voice firm but warm.

"Let them."

---

The hour was late, and the Landon Estate had begun to settle into silence. A few servants moved like whispers through the marble halls, finalizing preparations for what would be the most controversial engagement announcement of the season.

In his room, Caveen Landon sat on the edge of his bed, half-dressed, staring at the small velvet box resting in his palm.

Inside, the ring gleamed like a quiet curse.

His phone buzzed.

ALARIC (DUKE of RAVENSHADE)

Incoming Call

Caveen exhaled slowly, as though bracing for a blow, and answered.

"Alaric," he greeted flatly.

The voice on the other end was sharp and demanding.

> "Is it true?"

Caveen didn't flinch.

"If you mean the engagement to Lysandra Moonwell… then yes. It's happening."

> "Since when?" Alaric's voice was tight with disbelief. "You were just visiting estates. You promised to keep me in the loop. What changed?"

Caveen leaned forward, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's… complicated."

A pause. Long. Heavy.

> "Don't do this," Alaric said, his tone quieter now but no less stern. "I've stood by you through every battlefield—literal or emotional. If this is political, I can take it. But I know you, Caveen. You don't leap without looking."

Caveen's voice dropped to a near whisper. "I didn't plan it. But I have to protect something. Someone."

The silence on the other end thickened.

> "You got her pregnant."

Caveen didn't answer. He didn't need to.

Alaric let out a low, slow exhale.

> "You're not a coward. But you are an idiot who thinks carrying everything alone makes you noble."

Then came the final blow—soft, yet resolute.

> "I'm coming to Santossa. We talk face-to-face."

"Alaric—"

> "You owe me that much."

The line went dead.

Caveen stared at the screen for a moment, then set the phone aside. Dread coiled low in his gut—but beneath it, a strange comfort.

Alaric was coming.

And that meant, for once, Caveen wouldn't have to carry this storm alone.

---

A Few Hours Later — Dawn at Moonwell Estate

Before the sun kissed the hills of Santossa, a sleek black car rolled to a stop before the Landon gates. No guard dared to question the man who stepped out—his presence alone was a badge of authority.

Alaric Vaelthorne, the Duke of Ravenshade.

Tall, cloaked in a tailored dark coat, his stride was precise. His midnight eyes burned with questions, and maybe even a hint of betrayal.

Caveen was waiting for him at the main doors, tension locked in his spine.

"You didn't have to come this early," Caveen muttered.

"I couldn't sleep," Alaric replied, voice clipped. "Not after that call."

Their gazes met—years of loyalty and brotherhood stretched taut between them.

"Come in."

---

The Drawing Room – Just Past Sunrise

Inside, the room was already alive with silent tension.

Carl stood by the hearth, arms folded like granite, radiating command. Maika, serene and unreadable, watched from her seat by the tall windows. And tucked in the corner, looking very much like a caged bird in fine silk, sat Lysandra Moonwell.

Alaric bowed with cold grace. "King Carl. Princess Maika."

Carl didn't waste time with niceties. "I assume Caveen told you little."

"He told me enough," Alaric said, casting a brief glance at his friend. "This isn't a political ploy."

Maika rose, graceful and composed, her voice like the wind over still water. "This concerns bloodlines, forbidden magic, and an unborn child who may shift the balance of our world. You deserve to know, Duke Ravenshade."

Lysandra looked up, guilt clinging to her like frost. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her gown.

"I didn't know who he was," she began, voice barely above a whisper. "When we met… I just wanted to escape an arranged fate. I never meant to—"

"You used a memory charm," Alaric cut in, voice sharp. "You erased him. Used him. For what? A baby to barter your freedom?"

She paled but held her ground. "Yes. I did. But I didn't know he was Caveen. I didn't know what I carried."

Caveen finally stepped forward. "She didn't mean harm. And I didn't remember until recently. The magic buried it too deep. But I know now. And so does she."

Alaric stared at them both, his gaze cold, calculating—and then he let out a long, weary sigh.

"You've made a mess," he muttered. "A deep one."

Maika stepped closer, her expression solemn. "The child is already awakening powers we can't measure. If the Council discovers her before we're ready..."

Carl's voice followed, low and grave. "They'll label her a threat. They'll move before she takes her first breath."

"The engagement," Maika added, "is a cover. A shield. To make the child legitimate. To protect Lysandra."

Alaric fell silent. Then, slowly, he turned back to Caveen.

His eyes softened. Just a fraction.

"I'll stand with you," he said quietly. "But this changes everything. You're not just a Landon heir anymore. The child you've made… the world will see her as prophecy or apocalypse."

Caveen drew himself up, shoulders square.

"I don't care what they see. I'll protect them both. No matter the cost."

Alaric's eyes flicked to Lysandra, her hands resting protectively over her belly.

Then he nodded. Once. Solid.

"Then so will I."