The carriage cut through the road back in a heavy silence.
Lucas sat across from her, watching her from the corner of his eye, not daring to stare directly.
Irene sat unnaturally still, not moving at all, her shoulders slightly slumped, her eyes pale. Fatigue was clearly etched across her face as she stared straight ahead.
Lucas watched her in silence.
He spoke in a calm tone,
"Are you feeling better?"
Irene slowly lifted her eyes and merely nodded in response.
He looked directly at her face.
But suddenly, a feeling he despised deeply began to surface.
That silent guilt pressed hard against his chest.
He felt that what had happened to her was his fault.
That suffocating sensation…
What unsettled him even more was that Irene was the only person who ever made him feel this way.
The carriage stopped in front of the palace.
As soon as they entered, Irene withdrew immediately to her room.
The dizziness that overwhelmed her left her no choice but to fall asleep at once.
But deep in the night, she woke to unbearable pain.
A sharp cramp in her abdomen, broken breaths, cold sweat on her forehead.
She reached for the small drawer beside the bed, swallowed one painkiller, then another… and lay back down, exhausted, trying to convince her body to calm down.
She did not know that Lucas heard everything.
The sound of footsteps, the drawer opening, her faint moans… all of it crept into his awareness without permission.
In the morning, Lucas returned late to the palace.
The moment he entered, the head butler approached him with a slight bow.
"Dinner is ready, Your Highness."
Lucas stopped mid-step, then asked without preamble,
"Did the princess have dinner?"
The head butler hesitated for a moment before answering,
"Princess Irene… has been ill all day, Your Highness. She remained in bed, suffering from severe vomiting and sharp abdominal pain. She has not eaten anything since morning."
Lucas's eyes widened with surprise mixed with restrained concern.
"And what did the doctor say?"
The head butler lowered his head further.
"The princess refused to be examined by a doctor, despite all our attempts to persuade her."
Annoyance clearly surfaced on Lucas's features.
He clenched his jaw and headed straight for her wing.
He opened the door quietly.
Irene lay on the bed, pale, her breathing shallow, as if suspended between sleep and unconsciousness.
He approached and sat on the bed.
Irene felt something cold against her forehead.
She slowly opened her eyes and her gaze collided with his.
For a moment, she wondered silently:
Am I dreaming?
His large hands were touching her forehead…
"Did I wake you?" he asked softly.
She did not answer.
She simply stared at him, as if words were too heavy to be spoken.
Anger surged through his veins.
Why am I so angry? I don't understand anything why? Why? You were never important to me, yet now I feel furious because of you. Is it because you always make me feel helpless? You are driving me insane, Irene Iskard.
He moved his hand to her cheek, a firm yet cautious touch.
"Sleep… just sleep."
He made his decision in that moment.
Then added in a tone that allowed no argument,
"I will not allow this to pass the way you did."
The following morning, Lucas issued his orders.
He instructed the servants to send a formal letter to the mayor's palace but unusually, the letter was not addressed to the mayor himself, but to his wife, Georgina Ghafarli.
Prince Lucas's palace wishes to return the favor and invites Mrs. Georgina to a private dinner.
When the letter arrived, Georgina was sitting alone in her room.
The moment she read the words, she began biting her nails nervously, pacing like a trapped animal.
"It's over for me…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
One terrifying question consumed her mind:
Does that mixed-blood woman want revenge on me?
She remembered the image of her calmly chewing the meat…
She shuddered.
"She's insane… maybe she'll poison the food and kill me… she is from Iskard after all… no… I don't want to go."
But she could not refuse.
Rejecting the invitation would be a direct insult to the royal family.
She stopped in front of the mirror and began cutting a lock of her hair nervously, as if punishing herself.
She struck herself and scolded herself—she should never have allowed hatred to blind her to the point of rebellion.
Georgina arrived at the palace that evening.
The head butler greeted her with a formal smile and gestured for her to follow him to a private wing.
She followed him step by step, her heart pounding violently in her chest.
She entered a vast, luxurious room, soft music playing in the background, and a round table set for only two people.
"Please, have a seat, Miss Ghafarli,"
the head butler said, then left.
She remained alone.
She felt her heart might stop.
She quickly took a glass of water, trying to calm herself.
A table for two…
That meant that woman had not informed the duke.
Georgina felt a slight sense of relief.
The worst scenarios would not happen.
All she had to do was be cautious… then leave safely.
But the sound of footsteps approached.
High heels—steady, nearing the door.
The door opened.
She stood up abruptly, so fast that the chair fell behind her.
She covered her mouth, fear overtaking her face.
The door fully opened.
He stood at a distance.
He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it calmly, smoke rising slowly around his cold features.
She stammered in a trembling voice,
"Y-Your Highness… Prince Lucas !"
and her voice broke.
Servants entered behind him with food carts, placing them on the table.
They bowed and exited quietly.
That wing was completely empty, exactly as Lucas had ordered.
He remained standing there, one hand in his pocket.
Georgina stood frozen in place.
And the sound of her heartbeat blended with the music