Awakening Love: Reborn to Be His Duchess Chapter 288: Help Elowen

Elowen still didn't speak.

Alaric leaned into it, voice careful and earnest. "Cassian has power. If you make a scene, you won't win. And your father and brothers are gone. There's no one left to shield you. You only have me. We grew up together. I've never been able to watch you hurt."

Elowen tightened her mouth. "So what?"

Alaric looked straight at her. "So, Ella, let me help you."

Elowen didn't correct the intimate, presumptuous way he said her nickname. Instead, she seemed to consider it.

Alaric stepped closer. "Okay? Give me the chance."

He moved in another big step and lowered his voice until it turned almost pleading. "Please. Let me help you."

The word please came out clear, too clear, like he'd ground it between his teeth.

Elowen had the strange sensation that the plea wasn't humiliating for him at all. It sounded like something he enjoyed in a private way, something that made him feel good.

She shut her eyes and took a breath.

When she opened them again, pain and sadness had been carefully placed on her face, like a mask. Like everything she'd been holding up finally cracked under his pressure.

She looked up at him. "You really can help me?"

Alaric felt relief rush through him, deep and sharp. He answered with absolute certainty, each word deliberate. "Yes. I can."

Elowen lowered her head, exposing her neck in a posture of fragile surrender. "But he's the Duke of Duskmoor. His Majesty's own brother."

Alaric's eyes burned. "His Majesty's already letting him step back from the military. He hasn't said it outright, but I can tell, His Majesty doesn't want to rely on him the way he used to. If His Majesty learns Cassian's doing something like this, he'll be disgusted. You were married to him by royal decree. Not even a year into it and he keeps a woman outside? That's putting His Majesty's face in the dirt."

"Really?" Elowen asked, eyes red, tears poised to fall.

Alaric, living twice now, couldn't stand the idea of her crying. His brow pulled tight.

His voice went even more solemn. "Ella. Trust me. I'll arrange everything."

Elowen hesitated. "Do you need me to do anything?"

"No," Alaric said. "Just wait for my message."

"Okay."

Elowen nodded and lifted her sleeve to wipe tears that weren't there. She sniffed like someone trying to keep herself together. "In this world... you're the only one who's ever been good to me."

It came out low, soft, almost tender.

Alaric went still. Something clenched hard in his chest.

He reached for her hand without thinking.

He caught nothing.

Elowen turned away at the last second and walked off.

Alaric stood where he was, staring after her.

In the past, he had treated her badly. That much was true.

And later, he had regretted it, truly.

No one knew what it had been like after she died. The Crown Prince's Wing had been huge and empty and cold, and his life had felt like something essential had been buried with her.

He'd been crushed under loneliness and regret until he couldn't breathe.

This time, he wasn't going to lose her.

"When it's all over..." Alaric murmured, only for himself, "we'll do it right. No more regrets."

"Your Highness."

Tristan's voice was low. He'd hesitated several times before speaking.

Alaric blinked back to the present and looked over. "What?"

Tristan paused, choosing his words. "I... feel like the Duchess of Duskmoor was strange."

Alaric latched onto the word. "Strange?"

"Yes." Tristan tried again. "I don't know how to explain it, but the conversation sounded like she was guiding you toward doing something."

Alaric gave a short, contemptuous sound. "What would you know?"

Tristan froze.

"She looks soft," Alaric went on, "but she's stubborn. She's just still mad at me. She's putting on a show."

Tristan's face went blank.

Soft isn't exactly the word he uses.

Alaric narrowed his eyes. "She still has me in her heart. That's why she didn't want me taking risks at first."

Then he cut Tristan a cold glance. "You wouldn't understand. No one loves you."

Tristan said nothing.

I really didn't need to say anything.

A few days later, Sylvia and Piers' wedding arrived right on schedule.

Sylvia had been staying at Duskmoor Manor, so the wedding procession would depart from there.

The night before, Elowen was still in Elspeth's rooms. The two of them were excited and busy, still checking the wedding arrangements late into the night. Near dawn, they managed a short doze.

As soon as daylight broke, they were up again.

They split their duties: one went to the great hall to receive the arriving guests, while the other stayed with Sylvia until it was time for the bridal procession to depart.