Chapter 227: His Mother
Leaning against her shoulder, Leroy pressed a lingering kiss to the curve of her neck. Lorraine’s arms instinctively wrapped around him, holding him close. She knew how much he drew strength from her nearness; how her touch steadied the storm within him.
It was one of the reasons she tried to remain strong. For him.
She closed her eyes, letting his slow kisses ground her in turn. His hand wandered over the small of her back before slipping forward, only to meet the firm resistance of her corset. He sighed against her skin...soft, almost boyish, but unmistakably disappointed.
Her lips curved.
"Shall I undress?" she whispered, amused by the familiar ritual between them. She knew how much he loved resting against her soft mounds, finding comfort in her body while his mind sorted through its storms. If that was what he needed tonight, she would offer it willingly.
"Why do you even wear it?" he grumbled, already tugging impatiently at the corset laces through the thin fabric of her morning gown.
Lorraine chuckled under her breath. This man. First he’d insisted she move into his chamber; now he was campaigning against her corsets. He was too much.
She leaned back to kiss his cheek, a soft brush of lips that only earned her a dissatisfied look in return. Of course, that wasn’t enough for him. In a swift, boyish motion, he pushed her gently onto the bed and captured her lips with his.
But for some reason, he stopped there. He didn’t undress her.
Instead, he rested his head over her chest, hands sliding to her waist. She adjusted slightly, guiding him so his weight wouldn’t press against her belly, where a quiet life was growing, their child.
She felt his breath even out against her skin. His body, tense from the day’s truths, slowly relaxed in her embrace.
This was what she wanted.
He couldn’t run from what he’d learned; denial wouldn’t change the truth. But in her arms, at least, he could breathe as he faced it.
She ran her fingers slowly through his hair as he lay sprawled across her chest, his cheek pressed just above her heart. He was probably listening to her heartbeat; it always calmed him, like a rhythm only he could hear.
"The mark on your face..." she began softly, watching the way his lashes fluttered, but his eyes didn’t open. "Apparently, Tharian Dravenholt had the same mark. His birthmark was shaped as a twin flame, like coiled serpents. The betrayer. And King Aurelthar cursed that all his heirs would bear it on their faces until the true heir was born. Each one’s mark revealed who they were."
She paused, giving him a chance to respond. But he didn’t speak. His body was loose and heavy against hers, the way it only ever was when he felt safe.
"Now we know why the Dowager wanted you to hide it," she continued, her voice almost a whisper against the still air. "That birthmark was proof, undeniable proof, that you were the son of the previous king. Oh, and Emma said the Dowager forged the Dravenholt birth records. She carefully left out any mention of the mark. But I’d wager her uncle knows the truth."
Her lips curved faintly as she watched him remain quiet. If not for the absent-minded way his fingers toyed with her hair, she might have thought he’d fallen asleep on her.
"Leroy..." She hesitated, the name slipping from her lips more like a sigh than a call. There was something she wanted to ask, something that had sat on her tongue all evening. But in the end, she let it go. He would tell her when he was ready.
And besides, she could find the answers herself, now that she knew where to look.
She let the silence settle between them, warm and unhurried.
"What?" he murmured after a while, his voice low against her chest. "What were you about to say?"
It was then Lorraine realized he had been listening all along, truly listening, and wanted to hear her speak. She hesitated. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t push him, that she’d let him share what he wanted on his own terms. But maybe with him, she didn’t have to hold back quite so carefully.
After all, he was her husband. He loved her. He wouldn’t mind.
"When you were in Kaltharion," she began softly, "did you ever feel like you weren’t..."
"Their real son?" he finished for her, lifting his head just slightly.
Lorraine’s fingers continued their lazy path through his hair, comforting and steady. "Do you think Gaston is their real son? And for some reason, they... Ugh, this is so stupid." She scrunched her nose. "Who would actually switch their children and give the crown prince’s place to some random boy?"
"No, it makes sense," Leroy said quietly.
"It does?" Lorraine blinked, caught off guard.
Leroy nodded, his fingers absentmindedly twirling a strand of her hair. "This wouldn’t be the first time the Kaltharion royal family hid the true heir. It’s happened before. When a royal child is born, the astrologer reads the stars. There was this one instance, long ago, when the astrologer advised the king to keep the identity of the heir hidden, so the child would survive."
He’d wondered, even as a boy, if that same story applied to him. He had noticed the difference in how Gaston was treated compared to him. He had seen his mother’s distance. Maybe the truth had always been there, plain and merciless, and he had simply refused to see it.
"I wonder how you ended up in their royal family..." Lorraine said, her voice more a soft whisper as she thought out loud.
"Hmm... how, indeed..." he said.
"Maybe Aldric would know," Lorraine said. That guy seemed to know it all.
"Or... Maybe Osric Vaelith knows. He sure should know," Lorraine said.
Leroy said nothing, and Lorraine pressed her lips. Maybe that didn’t matter.
"It’s better, in a way, that you learned the truth like this," Lorraine said softly after a pause. "At least now, you know who your true mother is."
If he had learned through gossip or betrayal, he would have been forced to question everything, his parentage, his worth, his entire past. But now, the truth had arrived gently, cushioned in the quiet safety of their shared bed, with him already knowing who his true parents were.
"Mother..." Leroy whispered. His voice had turned soft, almost fragile. "Does she have to stay here?"
Lorraine’s heart skipped a beat. Her hands in his hair stilled completely.