Chapter 217: Freedom From His Mask
"Anywhere you go, I carry you."
The evening air was cool, brushing against her cheeks like silk, but in his arms she felt nothing but steady, fierce, and consuming warmth. His warmth. She could feel the power in him, in the way his chest rose against hers and the surety of his hold, as if the very idea of her falling was inconceivable. Her heart stumbled against his, caught in a sweet, aching rhythm that left her dizzy.
Lorraine tilted her head up to look at him. The golden evening light spilled over his features, catching on the sharp cut of his jaw, softening at the faint curve of his smile. In that moment, he wasn’t the calculating warrior prince, the man who bore the weight of a nation on his shoulders. He was simply her husband, the man who loved her with a quiet, consuming intensity that stole her breath away.
"Why do you do this?" she whispered, almost afraid to break the spell that wrapped around them like a fragile cocoon.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed the servants and maids whispering behind their hands. How different it was now. Just weeks ago, she had been the pitied, abandoned wife who was left adrift, her future as crown princess uncertain. The servants had whispered then too, but with condescension. They’d all waited for the moment she’d sink, and they could safely abandon the doomed ship.
And now... Leroy was carrying her openly, intimately, before everyone’s eyes. His gestures were deliberate, as a declaration, a fortress built around her. She could practically hear their whispers change: the femme fatale, they would say, who bent the warrior prince to her will, who wrapped him around her little finger.
Oh, how the times had changed.
His gaze found hers again, and for a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just the two of them. "Because," he murmured, his voice a warm rasp, "you’re mine."
Her breath caught. She pressed her forehead to his chest, hiding the smile trembling on her lips and the sting of tears gathering in her eyes. His heartbeat was loud and steady beneath her ear, as an unspoken promise she’d never dared to dream of once.
"What?" he murmured, pressing his chin gently against her hair. "Are you blushing?"
She felt the soft brush of his lips on her head, followed by a chuckle that vibrated through his chest. She could feel that laugh against her cheek, and it made her heart flutter treacherously.
"Let me see..." He shifted his hold just enough to scratch her back teasingly.
"Leroy!" she hissed, glancing at the staff, but her protest was breathless and weak. In that moment, she didn’t care who saw... or who heard.
His low, measured laugh that was so unmistakably him, rumbled again. "You are blushing," he teased.
Lorraine puffed her cheeks in indignation. Without hesitation, she reached up and tugged at the mask on his face. The first time they met, she’d tried to take it off and he’d resisted fiercely. This time, he didn’t. Whether it was because his arms were occupied or because he simply didn’t mind anymore; she didn’t care.
She slipped it off, ruffling his hair as she did. His single braid fell loose over his shoulder, framing his sharp features. She placed the mask on her own face with a little flourish, hiding her flushed cheeks behind it.
If she was blushing, she would not let him see.
Leroy’s smile deepened. Adjusting her securely in his arms, he bent his head without warning and kissed her.
"You—!" Lorraine tried to sound indignant, but her voice broke into a flustered hiss. She buried her face behind his mask, sinking deeper into the warmth of his embrace as his laughter brushed against her lips.
And as the satisfied Leroy carried her through the manor doors, Lorraine thought, just for a fleeting, precious moment, that perhaps this was what it meant to come home.
She didn’t struggle to free herself from his hold; instead, she simply melted into his embrace, letting the rhythm of his heartbeat guide her. Vaelorian etiquette would have deemed such a public display of affection a grave misstep for a crown princess. But she didn’t care. This was her husband. This was their home. And they were in love.
Her hand drifted to her belly almost unconsciously, resting there protectively. Her husband loved her. She carried his child. For once, her heart whispered, she needed nothing more.
Through the narrow eye slits of his mask that was now resting on her face, she caught sight of the young maids being swiftly scolded by the older matrons for daring to sneak glances. She leaned closer to Leroy’s chest, shielding herself in his warmth, and gazed through the mask at the mansion that had become her world.
She had never worn such a mask before. Masquerade balls held little charm for her; she’d always distrusted what people hid behind painted smiles and elaborate disguises. She knew too well how anonymity granted a certain kind of power.
But this mask... though elegantly crafted, narrowed her vision, just as it must have narrowed his all these years. Perhaps it was shaped for his face, yet even so, it confined, it blinded, like reins on a warhorse.
Why should he live like that anymore? He deserved to see the world unobstructed. He deserved freedom.
Her gaze sharpened as she remembered him telling her how the dowager had placed this mask on his face, whether to hide something or to keep him under her thumb, she no longer cared. Whatever the reason had been, it ended tonight. She had decided: he would never wear the mask again.
As they crossed the threshold, servants whispered and stole careful glances at his now-uncovered face. She knew what drew their attention: the mark, that distinct, unforgettable mark, was etched like a secret across his skin. And she knew the rumors would start before dawn.
But she didn’t care.
The dowager’s power would no longer linger over their lives like a veil. If she wished to maintain her charade, she would have to explain herself before them all. Lorraine’s heart burned with quiet resolve.
The era of shadows and masks was over. Her husband wouldn’t have to follow anyone else’s orders now. He could live as he wanted.
-----
When Leroy carried her into her bedchamber, Lorraine’s heart fluttered with expectation. She had imagined the evening unfolding with the two of them sinking into the warmth of her bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, whispering soft words in the dark... and maybe even letting the night take a more daring turn.
But instead of heading toward the bed, Leroy strode straight to her dresser. Still holding her with effortless strength in one arm, he began opening drawers with the other, sifting through her gowns and nightclothes like a man on a mission.
Lorraine blinked. "What is it now?" she asked, incredulous.
"You’re going to stay in my bedchamber from now on," he said matter-of-factly, pulling out one of her silk nightdresses and folding it over his arm.
Her eyebrows twitched. Really?