Awakening Love: Reborn to Be His Duchess Chapter 430: Backfire

"Ella?" Alaric finally paused, setting the brush aside with deliberate precision, the ink still glistening faintly on the parchment.

"Yes, Your Highness."

The guard recounted Rowan's words from the gate, keeping his tone steady and formal, relaying everything without embellishment.

Alaric listened in silence. When the guard finished, his gaze lowered slightly, thoughtful for only a brief moment before his voice cut through the stillness, cold and unmistakable. "So he upset Ella."

Outside, the night air carried a sharp chill, the courtyard dim under scattered torchlight.

Rowan stood waiting beyond the gate, shifting slightly as pain pulsed through him in waves. His face burned, his ribs throbbed with every breath, but anticipation held his thoughts together.

Once His Highness sees me like this, there's no way he lets this go.

Duke of Duskmoor or not, Alaric is the Crown Prince. He stands above them.

And I'm one of his people.

They didn't just hit me, they challenged him.

Time stretched, each moment dragging longer than the last. Then at last, movement.

The heavy gates opened just enough to allow three figures through.

Rowan's heart surged, expectation rising fast enough to drown out the pain. But there was no royal presence. No sign of Alaric.

Only the guard who had gone in before, now flanked by two armed men, their armor catching faint light as they stepped forward in unison and blocked the entrance behind them.

Rowan's excitement faltered, confusion creeping in. "Where is His Highness?"

The lead guard stood straight, voice even and official. "His Highness will not receive you."

Rowan's voice sharpened instantly. "That's impossible. You didn't deliver my message properly. If His Highness knew what the Duke of Duskmoor and his wife did to me, he would not ignore this."

The guard regarded him briefly. "His Highness has a message."

Hope snapped back into place.

Rowan leaned forward despite the pain, urgency in his voice. "What did he say?"

The guard's eyes lingered on him for a fraction longer this time, a trace of something unreadable passing through.

Then he spoke, each word clear and exact. "His Highness said you do not know your place. If you had been beaten to death, it would have been no more than you deserved."

Rowan went still. The meaning reached him, but his mind refused to accept it.

His lips moved, voice unsteady. "What... did you just say?"

No answer came.

Instead, the guard took a single step back and gave a short command. "Take him."

Rowan barely had time to react before he was seized.

The first strike hit hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. The rest followed without pause, fists and boots driving into him with controlled, practiced force.

He tried to speak, to protest, but the words broke apart into strained cries, then into nothing but raw sound swallowed by the night.

No one stepped in.

"Enough."

The order came at last, clean and decisive.

The blows stopped immediately.

Rowan collapsed onto the cold stone, his body slack, every inch of him screaming. Each breath dragged painfully through his chest, sharp and metallic, as though he were breathing through blood.

Through blurred vision, he saw the guard standing over him, looking down without expression.

"His Highness has one more instruction," the man said. "If there is a next time, you will not be walking away."

A brief pause.

"Now leave."

The guards turned without another glance and walked back through the gate.

The doors shut behind them with a heavy, final sound that echoed through the courtyard.

Rowan lay there, unmoving, his thoughts spiraling in confusion.

Why... why would Alaric do this to me?

Footsteps approached hesitantly.

"M-My Lord..." one of his attendants crouched nearby, voice trembling. "Are you alright?"

Rowan's throat worked before any sound came. When it did, it was rough, barely held together.

"Maerwyn..."

If Alaric had cast him aside, then so be it.

Maerwyn had not.

She wouldn't turn on me... she never would. She'd do anything I asked of her, anything at all.

She might not command the same authority, but she could still stir trouble where it mattered. And if there was one person she could reach, it was Elowen.

As long as Elowen suffered for this, tonight would not be wasted.

"Take me to her," Rowan forced out, the words scraping against his throat.

He could not stand, so they lifted him carefully, supporting his weight as they made their way through the palace grounds.

By the time they reached Maerwyn's residence, the atmosphere had softened. Warm torchlight flickered along the stone walls, casting a steadier, more welcoming glow than the stark entrance of the Crown Prince's Wing.

The doors stood open, unusual for the hour. A senior attendant lingered beneath the covered entryway, her posture tense as she looked out into the night.

When she saw the group approaching, uneven and struggling, she hurried forward. The moment she recognized Rowan, her expression shifted to shock.

"My lord, what happened to you?"

Rowan ignored the question, his voice strained with urgency. "Where is Her Highness? I need to see the princess."

The attendant's brows drew together slightly, though she answered without delay. "It is the festival evening. Her Highness is attending the palace banquet. She has not yet returned."