Chapter 228: The Biggest Enemy
"What do you want to do?" Lorraine asked softly.
She didn’t understand his thoughts. He had just discovered the truth about his birth mother, and the first thing he wanted to do was send her away? How did that make sense?
Leroy didn’t answer. Instead, he rolled onto his back, his head still resting against her chest. He reached for a lock of her hair, her long, silken strands that brushed against her hips, and began playing with it absently. After a while, he seemed to find unusual fascination in trying to braid it, his fingers clumsy but persistent.
Lorraine let him be. She placed her hand gently on his forehead, her thumb stroking into his hair, grounding him.
And that’s when it struck her... his silence wasn’t coldness. It was guilt.
Just moments ago, he had called Aralyn a mistress to her face, had spoken to her with anger and disdain. And then, suddenly, he had learned that she was his mother. Of course, he was struggling. Of course, he didn’t want to face it.
And there was something else, too. Something significant.
"When you used to visit me... when my father beat me until I lost consciousness," Lorraine began slowly, her voice almost hesitant, "at that same time, in the dungeons below, Aralyn was enduring the same, if not worse."
She only thought about it now. Leroy had tried his best to protect her and get her out of that place. He did everything for that. But unknown to him, his mother too was trapped in the same mansion. He didn’t even know she was his mother, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t feel guilty.
Her words hung between them like a fragile thread.
Was he already thinking about that?
Was it cruel to bring it up now?
Would it push him away or draw him closer?
She didn’t know. But she wanted to be honest with him. She wanted to help him face what he was feeling before it festered into something neither of them could control.
Because if he decided to bury his emotions now, if he stayed silent and swallowed the guilt, one day it would erupt, and in their current situation, hemmed in by dangers on every side, they couldn’t afford a single fracture between them.
"This little mouseling!" Leroy muttered and sat up abruptly.
Lorraine remained lying down, watching him with a raised brow. He turned to look at her, exasperation plain on his face.
"Must you say it like that?" he asked. His voice carried that familiar mix of fondness and mild irritation. Her words had been too blunt, too pointed for someone as raw as he was at the moment.
Lorraine pursed her lips and shrugged. "Do you want me to coddle you? I can," she offered lightly.
Deep down, she knew he understood her. This was the man who had always read her without words, who could interpret a glance, a silence, the shift of her breath. He knew she wasn’t mocking or belittling him; she was trying to help him face it, not flee from it.
Leroy exhaled deeply, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. "No," he murmured, reaching for her hand. He closed his eyes and pressed her palm to his forehead, as if drawing strength from her touch.
"You didn’t know," Lorraine said softly. "She knows that too. She’ll understand."
Aralyn. The name brought a twist of uncertainty to her chest. Lorraine didn’t know what to think of her, not after that outburst, those sharp and hurtful words. Their relationship was complicated, and she had no illusions that it would become easy overnight.
But she wouldn’t let that stand between mother and son. Leroy and Aralyn deserved to know each other. And if it came down to a choice, she knew, terrifyingly well, that Leroy would cast aside his mother for her without hesitation. But she didn’t want that. Not even if Aralyn despised her.
Leroy remained silent, eyes closed, lips pressing against her palm in a quiet, reverent kiss. His mouth lingered there before trailing to her wrist, where his lips rested for a moment longer.
Lorraine exhaled slowly, then shifted onto his lap, laying across it with practiced ease. He didn’t speak, but she felt the subtle change in him, the release, the way his body seemed to ease beneath her touch, as though some heavy burden had finally loosened its hold.
From here on, the choice of how to face his mother was his. She would not interfere.
Besides, Leroy’s mother wasn’t their greatest threat. The Dowager was. And they couldn’t afford to lose sight of the true enemy in favor of personal entanglements.
-----
Outside, Aldric stood quietly, watching Aralyn as realization dawned on her face. Aralyn had spoken out of turn, voicing opinions too loudly, too hastily, when she knew almost nothing of Lorraine or of the bond between her son and his wife.
"She talks," Aralyn murmured, almost to herself.
The words carried both surprise and an old ache. The innocent girl she remembered was gone; in her place stood a woman who was sharp, poised, and far more deceptive than Aralyn had expected. The discovery stung her fragile heart. She had only just found her son, and already she feared losing him to this changed world.
It was true, she didn’t know her son. Nor did she know Lorraine anymore. But was it truly wrong of her to worry about his future? For the life that had been kept from her?
Aldric smiled faintly, his tone gentle but firm. "In all truth, Milady, just as you once protected His Highness by sending him away, Lorraine has protected him ever since. For the past five years, countless times, it was Her Highness who stood between him and danger. His Highness has found a woman who can stand at his side."
Aralyn’s eyes flicked toward him. She nodded slowly, gingerly. There was so much she had missed, years of moments, triumphs, dangers, all slipping through her fingers like sand. Now, she was left with only others’ words to piece together the story of her son’s life.
Why was fate so cruel to her?
"The Dowager..." Aldric began. "Isabella."
The name cut through her reverie like a blade. Her eyes snapped to his, no longer soft but blazing with old fire.
"Isabella knows you’re alive," Aldric said evenly. "She knows Leroy is your son. Osric has returned. The pieces are on the board, Milady. One wrong move could topple the king."
Aralyn swallowed hard. Then her gaze sharpened, the softness gone, replaced by resolve. "We cannot allow ourselves to be distracted," she said firmly.
Aldric inclined his head. "Lorraine is the greatest ally His Highness has. You’ll see that in time."
Aralyn hesitated, then nodded. She would have to accept that. Whatever personal doubts she had, they could not afford division now. Not when the real enemy was moving against them.
"And who are you?" Aralyn asked.
The man talking to her was not just a steward. From the day she met him, his actions toward her had been filled with a quiet reverence she couldn’t understand.