Awakening Love: Reborn to Be His Duchess Chapter 382: A Dream That Won't Fade

Morning light filtered into the chamber. She sat beside the bed and leaned forward gently.

"Your Highness."

Alaric opened his eyes.

The sight before him filled his heart with warmth. Elowen's slender waist curved gracefully beneath her robe, and her fair cheeks held a soft flush that made her look radiant.

Her gaze lingered on his face with quiet affection.

"Your Highness, it's time to wake up. I prepared breakfast for you. All your favorites."

A softness spread through Alaric's chest.

He lifted his hand to touch her cheek.

"Ella... I treated you poorly in the past. Let's begin again."

Yet when his palm met her skin, all he felt was a chilling cold.

Elowen's face twisted. In the next instant it transformed into Daphne.

She threw back her head and laughed wildly.

"What's the use of apologizing now? She's already dead because of you! Begin again? She belongs to the Duke of Duskmoor now. And he's a far better man than you'll ever be."

Alaric's anger surged violently. His eyes snapped open.

The familiar canopy above his bed slowly came into focus, and only then did he realize that everything he had just experienced was nothing more than a dream.

He pushed himself upright and pressed his fingers against his aching temple.

The chamber around him felt cold and empty. The loneliness in his chest only grew heavier.

"Someone."

Alaric's voice was hoarse as he called out.

Tristan, who had been waiting in the outer chamber, immediately entered carrying the washing basin and other items needed for the morning routine. He set everything down quietly and stood with his head lowered.

After living through a second lifetime, Alaric had become even more suspicious and cautious than before. Matters involving his personal service were now entrusted solely to Tristan.

Alaric remained seated at the edge of the bed with his feet hanging down, his expression dark as he waited to be attended.

Tristan crouched on the floor and carefully began fitting the prince's boots onto his feet.

"Today," Alaric said suddenly, breaking the silence, "has any message come from my mother?"

Tristan continued working while answering respectfully. "Your Highness, nothing has arrived today. However..."

His voice faltered slightly.

Alaric lowered his gaze sharply. "However what? Speak."

Tristan drew a steady breath before replying truthfully. "The Duke of Duskmoor and the Duchess entered the palace this morning to offer greetings to His Majesty."

"Ella?!"

The name escaped Alaric before he could stop himself. He sprang abruptly to his feet. But Tristan's hands had not yet withdrawn.

Alaric's step landed directly on Tristan's fingers.

A surge of pain shot through Tristan's hand, draining the color from his face. "Your Highness..."

Alaric heard none of it. Every thought in his mind was fixed on Elowen.

He hurried toward the door without even bothering to put on an outer robe.

Alaric strode out of his chamber and reached the entrance of the Crown Prince's Wing, only to have two cold spearheads cross in front of him and block his path.

"Stand aside. I am going to greet my father."

His expression darkened as he issued the command. The captain of the guards bowed respectfully but did not move an inch.

"Your Highness, please forgive us. His Majesty ordered that, aside from the required ceremonies on the first day, Your Highness is still under confinement within the Crown Prince's Wing. Without His Majesty's direct command, you are not permitted to step beyond this residence. We dare not disobey the imperial order."

Alaric ground his teeth.

"Then go report it immediately. Tell His Majesty I have urgent business and must request an audience at once."

The guards exchanged glances.

The captain nodded slightly to one of them, who immediately ran off to deliver the message.

Alaric waited outside in the bitter cold wearing only a thin inner robe. The icy wind slipped through the fabric and chilled him to the bone, leaving his face pale from the cold.

At last the guard returned.

"Now I may leave," Alaric said coldly as he stepped forward.

But the guard blocked him once more.

"Your Highness, His Majesty's message is this. There are guests in the palace today, and he cannot receive the Crown Prince. If Your Highness wishes to pay respects, you may do so at dusk."

"How could dusk possibly work?" Alaric's brows tightened sharply.

By the time evening arrived, Elowen would certainly be gone.

Yet the guards remained unmoving. Frustration surged through Alaric, but he could not openly defy his father's order.

Thinking back, he had clearly pleased Theodric on Christmas Eve with those heartfelt words. If nothing unexpected happened, the order of confinement would soon be lifted.

If that were the case, he should have been able to see Ella today.

He desperately wanted to ask her face to face how she could possibly be carrying Cassian's child.

Was she forced? Or is there some other reason behind it?

Yet now he could not take a single step outside. In the end, everything traced back to Daphne.

Her foolish actions had enraged Theodric and dragged him down with her.

A surge of furious resentment erupted in his chest.

Alaric spun around, cold fury radiating from him as he strode toward the courtyard where Daphne had once lived.

The residence remained exactly as it had been on the day she was stripped of her title. With so many recent affairs occupying the palace, the attendants there had not yet been reassigned.

Some were low-ranking servants sent from the palace. Others were maids who had accompanied Daphne from her family when she married into the Crown Prince's household.

Alaric stopped at the gate and swept a dark, dangerous gaze across the courtyard.

"Guards!"

His voice rang out with fury.

"Drag every single person in this residence outside. Anyone who ever served Daphne. Sell them all off. Leave no one behind."