Semua Bab Reborn: The Duke’s Unbothered Villainess: Bab 51 - Bab 60

Because of course it wouldn’t be simple.Of course, the Storm Knight couldn’t exist without tying herself to another damned royal prophecy.And when the session finally broke apart, when I stormed into the Queen’s private parlor demanding answers, all she said was:“There are things better left in shadow, Abby.”“That’s not an answer.”Her eyes softened, just slightly. “Lucien’s survival… isn’t a story I’m ready to tell.”Alaric stood at my back. Silent. Hands fisted at his sides.Later that evening, in the gardens under silver moonlight, Alaric’s voice broke through the lingering silence between us.“I don’t trust him.”“Neither do I.”“But he looked at you like…”“I know,” I whispered. “Like he knows something I don’t.”That night, I couldn’t sleep.Not because of lightning.Not because of Alaric’s stolen glances or the way my magic hummed in time with his whenever we touched.But because in the back of my mind, I kept hearing Lucien’s voice:“In another life, perhaps.”And worse—W

Finally, I asked the other question burning on my tongue."And Max?" I whispered. "What happened to him?"Lucien’s jaw tightened."He vanished. One day, I woke up in the clearing, and he was gone. No sign. No trail. Just... shadows."I closed my eyes. Let that sink in.When I opened them again, Lucien’s gaze was steady."So," he said quietly, "storm knight. What do we do next?"I stared at him.At the man everyone feared. The man I’d started to maybe understand.And I gave him the only answer that made sense in that moment:"We get ready."*****The private fallout happened, as always, not in some grand ballroom or council chamber—but in the quieter, quieter corners of the castle where real things got said.It was past dusk when I found him.Alaric wasn’t in the royal chambers. Not in his office. Not by the war table.No—of course not.He was in the training hall, half-dressed, sword in hand, slashing through the air like the walls had done something to offend him.The scent of steel

That morning when Alaric left.The library smelled faintly of lemon oil and old vellum, with the steady crackle of a low fire from the hearth. Light streamed through tall arched windows, dust motes floating like lazy snowflakes. I sat perched on the edge of a dark oak table, ledger open, as Renato stood across from me—gloved hands resting on the back of a chair, his expression as properly neutral as always, but with a flicker of curiosity in his dark eyes.“I took a walk around the western fields this morning,” he said evenly. “The soil is good but tired. Rotation’s been neglected, and the livestock pens nearby are beginning to wear out the ground. If we intend to expand the farm, there’s a decision to make: buy new land, or find a way to rejuvenate what we have.”I smiled faintly, flipping a page in the ledger. “We won’t need to buy more land. Just improve the one we already have.”Renato tilted his head slightly. “You have something in mind, my lady?”I did. But I had to word it car

By the time we dried off and changed into something less rain-soaked, the late afternoon sun had fought its way back through the clouds. A soft golden glow pooled along the balcony floor, painting the stone railings and garden below in warm amber.Lucien was already waiting when I stepped out with a tray of tea and fresh bread—courtesy of Annabelle, who pretended not to watch us from the kitchen window.“I figured we deserved this,” I said, setting the tray between us on the small round table. “Tea. And strategy.”Lucien was no longer wearing his royal coat—just a plain linen shirt rolled at the sleeves and dark trousers, still regal somehow, but less formal. His dark hair was half-dry, curling faintly at the edges.“Tea and war,” he echoed with a lopsided grin. “That’s a very Abby combination.”“Flatter me again, Lucien, and I might make your tea bitter on purpose.”He chuckled but said nothing more as I poured for both of us. The tea was a light blend—citrus and spice. Strong enough

Prince Damian Lucien POVThe Night Before the Rift Campaign – Campfire, Stew, and Too Many FeelingsBy all rights, I shouldn’t have been there.Not because of rank. Not because of prophecy. Simply because the moment Abby MacMayer looked at Duke Alaric with that soft, half-smiling, secretly-sharp gaze of hers—I knew I was the third shadow in a two-person storm.Still, I stayed.I stayed because I’d seen what she could do. And I stayed because I remembered.Max hadn’t told me her name, not directly. Only that someone like her existed—someone powerful enough to end what he’d started. But seeing it with my own eyes… it was different. It felt heavier. Real.The thing was, I hadn’t expected her to be so...Human.Laughing, eating stew, wiping her mouth on her sleeve while telling Anita to stop sneaking extra sausages. She wasn’t some untouchable goddess from the old books.She was painfully real.And Alaric knew it too. Which was why he kept glaring at me like I might sprout horns.From acr