Awakening Love: Reborn to Be His Duchess Chapter 463: Held at the Threshold

He had already started toward the door, his mind painting the moment ahead with vivid clarity, the way Elowen might look when she saw him, surprised at first, then lighting up with something warmer.

"Your Highness."

The voice came soft but steady, cutting cleanly through the thought before it could take hold.

Iris moved without a sound, stepping just enough to place herself in his path. Her head remained lowered, her posture composed and respectful, though there was nothing uncertain about the way she stood.

Alaric stopped short, irritation tightening across his face. "Move aside. What are you doing?"

"I beg your pardon, Your Highness," she said evenly, "but at this moment, your priority should be the Nordian delegation. You have yet to review the reports, the letters exchanged over these past months, or the terms being prepared for negotiation. Those matters cannot wait."

He let out a breath, already impatient. "I can deal with that later. I haven't seen Ella in far too long. I'm going to Duskmoor Manor now."

Iris lifted her gaze just slightly. "Then allow me to ask you something, Your Highness. Do you mean to see the Duchess just once, or do you intend to see her often, whenever you wish?"

The question caught him off guard, if only for a second. "Of course I intend to see her whenever I like. That's not even a question."

"Then this is exactly why you should not go now."

She took a small step closer, her voice lowering just enough to keep it between them. "His Majesty only just lifted your confinement. No one can say what he is thinking yet. If word reaches him that the first thing you did after stepping out was ignore state affairs and ride straight to Duskmoor Manor to visit your uncle's wife, how do you think that will sound?"

Alaric's expression shifted, the edge of his certainty faltering.

Iris watched him closely and continued, calm and precise. "Would His Majesty see that as devotion, or as recklessness? Would the court praise you, or whisper that you still lack judgment? If he decides nothing has changed, you may find yourself confined again before the week is out. And next time, it may not be so easy to step outside these walls."

Alaric opened his mouth, ready to argue, but the words stalled before they formed.

His jaw tightened.

Seeing that hesitation, Iris softened her tone, guiding rather than pressing. "Your Highness, timing matters. If you show His Majesty that you are steady, that you can put the realm before your own desires, he will begin to trust you again. Once that happens, there will be no more restrictions placed on you."

She let the thought settle before continuing.

"And in time, when you take the throne, everything within this kingdom will be yours to command. When that day comes, whom you choose to see, whom you choose to keep by your side, will be entirely up to you. Even bringing the Duchess into the royal residence, openly and without question, would be well within your power."

That was the part that reached him.

She's right. I'm the Crown Prince. One day, all of this will be mine.

Why risk everything now for a single impulsive visit?

Why give his father reason to doubt him again?

"...You're right." He exhaled slowly, the tension leaving his shoulders. "I was rushing into this. That was my mistake."

Iris lowered her eyes again. "Your Highness is wise to see it."

He glanced once more toward the outer gate, then straightened his cloak. "I'll return to my study. I want every report on Nordia brought to me. Tristan, see to it."

"At once, Your Highness," Tristan answered.

Alaric turned and walked back toward the study without another word.

Tristan watched him go, then leaned slightly toward Iris, his voice low with genuine admiration. "That was impressive. You turned him around in a matter of moments. If you hadn't stepped in, he would've gone straight out."

Iris did not look up. Her lashes hid whatever flickered in her eyes. "It's for his sake."

The words sounded dutiful, exactly as they should.

But she knew better.

She had clawed her way into a place within the Crown Prince's household, and in a court like this, standing still meant falling behind. If Alaric lost favor again, or worse, if his position ever came into question, everything she had built would collapse with him.

Better to guide him now, to keep him walking a path that would hold, than scramble later for a way out.

At the very least, until she found something more secure, he could not be allowed to fall.

From the study, Alaric's voice carried down the corridor. "Iris. Get in here."

"Yes, Your Highness."

She gave Tristan a brief nod and moved off at once.

He watched her go, her figure slight but steady, and decided against saying anything more.

Inside, Alaric had already taken his seat behind a heavy desk.

Iris stepped over to the writing table, poured a small measure of water into the inkwell, and stirred it with practiced ease. A soft, steady rhythm filled the room, quiet and unhurried, as she prepared the ink for writing.

Alaric tapped his fingers against the desk, then paused as something came back to him. "When Quin delivered the decree earlier, he mentioned Uncle Cassian would be involved in the negotiations as well, didn't he?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Iris replied, her movements never breaking rhythm.

Alaric let out a short, humorless laugh. "And he's still bound to that wheeled chair, isn't he? A man who can't even stand properly, and he's expected to take part in something like this. Father really has lost his sense."