Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 91 - Chapitre 100

🎀CHAPTER NINETY🎀 The morning came early, and it came cold. The wind moved sharply through the air, brushing against everything without mercy. Even without rain, the chill settled deep into the bones. Zayla stood quietly in her chamber, her eyes moving slowly across the room. The paintings, all of them. On the walls, resting against corners, some half-covered, some fully displayed. She let out a soft breath. For a moment, she just stood there, looking. Then she moved. Carefully, she picked two of her best ones, rolled them gently so the edges wouldn’t crease, and slipped them into a small bag, tying it securely. She reached for a thick cloak and wrapped it tightly around herself against the biting cold. Her hair was tied back into a simple ponytail, nothing fancy, nothing that would get in her way. She stepped out of her room, into the quiet hallway, then outside. A carriage was already waiting in the distance. Zayla paused. *Come to think of it, I haven’t had a proper tour

🎀 CHAPTER NINETY-TWO🎀 Zayla turned slowly to Varian, only to find him already looking at her, giving a small, encouraging nod as if urging her to speak. Her heart skipped. For a brief moment, she hesitated.Then she let out a soft, nervous laugh and turned back to the king. “Actually, Your Majesty…” she began, her voice light, though her fingers were still tense against her dress. “I didn’t think too deeply about it while painting.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “I suppose… it’s more of a feeling than a story,” she continued. “The winter piece… it just felt like something quiet, but not entirely empty. Like even in the coldest place, something can still survive… something small, but stubborn.” Her gaze dropped briefly before she continued. “And the meadow…” she added, a little more smoothly now, “that one felt like the opposite. Warm, peaceful… but fleeting. Like a moment you know won’t last, no matter how beautiful it is.”She lifted her eyes again, offer

🎀CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR🎀 Zayla blinked, her brows pulling together slightly. The resemblance was too close, too exact, just… younger. “You… you’re not Lord Asher?” she asked cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper. He just looked at her, silent for a long moment, his cracked lips parting slowly. “I don’t… even know who that is,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and rough, like it hurt to speak. Zayla let out a small, awkward laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Ah… I’m sorry. I must’ve mistaken you for someone else,” she said quickly, a bit embarrassed. She moved closer, her tone softening. “Let me help you up. Your knees must be hurting badly.” He hesitated for a second… then didn’t resist. Carefully, she supported him, her grip gentle as she helped him to his feet and guided him to a nearby stone seat. He sat down slowly. Zayla didn’t move away immediately. Her eyes stayed on his face a little too long. He noticed. His gaze lifted slightly toward her, faint confusion

🎀CHAPTER NINETY-SIX🎀 When he finally slowed, the tray nearly empty, Zayla leaned forward slightly, studying him. “Done?” she asked, her tone light. Remiel gave a small nod, setting the spoon down carefully, almost like he wasn’t used to having something of his own to finish. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Zayla pushed herself to her feet, brushing her hands lightly against her dress. “Come on,” she said, glancing down at him. “Let’s take a walk.” Remiel stiffened a little at that. A walk? His fingers curled faintly against his lap, hesitation clear in the way his shoulders tensed. “I…” he started, his voice unsure. His eyes flicked toward the open courtyard, then back to her, like he was weighing something in his head. Zayla noticed. “It’s just a walk,” she added, softer this time. “Nothing more.” A pause. Then, slowly… he nodded. “…Alright,” he murmured. --------- They walked slowly along one of the quieter paths in the palace gardens,

🎀CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT🎀 Irene stepped forward and raised her hand, flagging down a passing carriage. The driver slowed, pulling the reins as the horses came to a steady halt. “Perfect timing,” Irene said, already reaching for the handle. Zayla sighed but followed her in. The carriage lurched slightly as they settled, then began moving again, the rhythmic sound of hooves filling the air. Zayla leaned back against the seat, arms crossed, her gaze drifting toward the window. The village rolled past in a blur,stone paths, passing vendors, distant chatter, and the occasional burst of laughter from strangers going about their day. She watched it all quietly, her thoughts wandering. Then she turned her head, narrowing her eyes at Irene, who sat opposite her, staring out the other side like she had no care in the world. “Seriously, Irene,” Zayla said, her tone flat but laced with curiosity. “What kind of ‘fun’ requires this much secrecy?” Irene didn’t even look at her. “Pat