Semua Bab Across Lifetimes, Still Yours : Bab 21 - Bab 30

Leo stood alone on the balcony, the Queen’s words still rang in his ears - clipped, final, unbending. Every inch of him burned with frustration, but beneath it all, a quieter ache pulsed.Cris.He could still feel the warmth of his lips, the phantom echo of that first kiss in the rain. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw fire, the flicker of past lives bleeding into the present — Marcus and Mia, the pyre, the promise.Was fate repeating itself, or trying to right what it once broke?He gripped the railing, knuckles white. For the first time in his life, Leo wished he weren’t born a prince. Royal duty had always been heavy, but now it felt suffocating. To be forced into a marriage with Anna, a woman more crown than heart, while the only person who made him feel alive stood across the borderlines of politics and prophecy. It was madness.And yet, he would chase that madness again if it meant feeling whole.Cris sat opposite Lori, shoulders slumped, the weight of truth between them. Th

Steel rang in the courtyard, the rhythm sharp and fast. Cris’s blade met Lori’s with a metallic screech, sparks lighting between them. She was quick, but he was sharper tonight. Faster, meaner, as if something else was fueling every swing.“Easy there,” she said, blocking a strike that nearly knocked her off balance. “You trying to kill me or exorcise something?”Cris’s eyes flickered with restrained fire. “You’re getting slow.”“Slow?” She lunged, missed by an inch, and scowled. “You’re the one fighting like you’ve got ghosts on your back.”He didn’t answer. Another clash, another dodge, and then - too fast to see - he disarmed her. Her sword spun away, clattering across the cobblestones.Lori groaned and threw up her hands. “Alright, fine, I surrender to your inner demons. What’s going on with you?”Cris exhaled, dropping his sword and rubbing a hand over his face. “Owen came to my room last night.”Her humor vanished. “He what?”“He knows,” Cris said quietly. “He’s got one of the l

For a moment, silence sat heavy between them. The Queen Mother’s fingers froze around her wine cup, her eyes sharpening, the candlelight reflecting off the gold rim like a blade’s edge.“Repeat that,” she said softly.Anna blinked, her earlier laughter faltering. “Repeat what, Your Grace?”The Queen leaned back in her chair, the faintest of smiles cutting across her lips. “You said something about… communication. Between Leo and Lord Cris of Viremonthe.”Anna’s throat went dry. She hadn’t meant to say it, not that directly. The wine had loosened her tongue far too easily. “Ah… I only meant correspondence,” she said quickly, forcing a laugh. “Diplomatic, of course. You know how the Conclave keeps them exchanging notes over treaties and dull politics.”The Queen Mother’s gaze didn’t waver. “Of course. Politics.” She swirled her cup once, slow, deliberate. “Still… odd that you’d find it worth mentioning at all.”Anna lowered her eyes, feigning embarrassment. “Perhaps I’ve had more wine t

The corridors of Thornvale Castle were quieter than usual, their usual rhythm muted beneath an invisible weight. Leo walked them alone, the echo of his boots swallowed by stone and shadow. The council had been dismissed hours ago, but its aftermath clung to him like dust - arguments about trade routes, alliances, and whispered doubts about the royal wedding.When he reached the end of the hallway, a servant nearly collided with him, bowing so low his cap almost hit the floor. Leo barely noticed. He was thinking of the Queen Mother… of the way her eyes lingered too long now, studying him as though she already knew.He opened his chamber door and stopped. On the table, beside the untouched wine glass, lay a folded note sealed in dark wax. No insignia. No scent of perfumed parchment. But he didn’t need either. The handwriting, the careful slope of each letter, he’d know it anywhere.> Meet me at the orchard past midnight. We have to move faster.Leo’s hand tightened on the page. The wall

The palace woke to whispers.Servants carried them between corridors like pollen on the wind… soft, invisible, impossible to stop. By midmorning, the gossip had settled into shape: The Prince has been meeting someone. A foreign envoy. After dark.Leo felt it before he heard it. The glances that lingered too long, the conversations that quieted when he entered. Every smile from the courtiers felt a little too thin.He sat through his morning audience, voice calm, posture perfect. But beneath the polished stillness, his pulse beat hard and fast.When the hall emptied, he turned to his aide. “Who started it?”The aide hesitated. “It’s hard to say, Your Highness. The guards heard it from the servants. The servants heard it from the kitchens. But... they all say the same thing.”Leo’s gaze sharpened. “Say it.”“That a man from Viremonthe has been seen leaving your wing. Several times.”A beat of silence. Then Leo said, quietly, “Find who told the guard first. And tell no one I asked.”The