Chapter 22

The grand chamber of Lady Eleonora ( Alex's aunt)Vireli’s estate was eerily quiet, the only sound being the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. The flickering flames cast long shadows on the opulent walls, reflecting the grandeur of a woman who once dreamed of being queen. She sat on an ornately carved chair, the silk of her gown pooling around her, her fingers delicately tracing the edge of her wine glass.

Her lips curled into a cold smile as her thoughts consumed her.

“It was never supposed to be like this,” she whispered to the emptiness of the room, her voice dripping with disdain. Her gaze shifted to the gilded mirror across the room, her own reflection staring back at her. “I should have been the queen. I was destined for the crown, for the power, for the respect that comes with it. But no…”

Her hand clenched the stem of the glass tightly, her knuckles whitening. “ My so called husband never wanted the throne. The fool. He gave it all away without a second thought.”

The image of her husband, Alex’s uncle, flickered in her mind—a man who had been content to let his younger brother take the crown. To her, Armand was weak, a man who lacked ambition, and for that, she hated him. Not openly, of course. She was far too clever for that. To the world, she was the dutiful wife, the gracious Lady Eleonora. But behind closed doors, her loathing simmered like a pot on the verge of boiling over.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as her thoughts turned darker. Her smile returned, sharper now, her eyes glinting with malice. “But I wanted it. I still do. And if I can’t have it…” Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “…I’ll make sure the ones who do suffer for it.”

Her thoughts turned to Alex. The young king was untouchable—strong, decisive, and well-loved by the people. Trying to harm him would be akin to signing her own death warrant. No, Alex was out of her reach.

But then there was Max.

Her lips twisted into a sneer at the thought of Alex’s consort. That boy.

“Oh, they all adore him, don’t they?” she muttered bitterly, leaning forward in her chair. “Maximilian Ashbourne . The perfect little addition to their pristine royal family. Tall, broad-shouldered, so full of that damned charisma. It’s sickening.” Her tone dripped with disgust as she spat his name.

Her eyes darkened further as she leaned back, swirling the wine in her glass absentmindedly. “They see him as this strong, confident man—someone who fits the image of a perfect royal. But I see through him. Beneath all that charm, he’s nothing more than a trembling little boy. Vulnerable. Fragile.”

Her sneer deepened. “He’s not a king. He’s not even worthy of the title he clings to. He’s just a decoration—a pretty little ornament on Alex’s arm. A face for the people to fawn over. But that’s all he’ll ever be. An outsider pretending to be something he’s not.”

Eleonora’s grip tightened on her glass as a flicker of hatred passed through her eyes. “And that vulnerability of his? Oh, I’ll use it. I’ll twist it until it breaks him. He doesn’t belong here. He never has. And I’ll make sure he knows it.”

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a sinister whisper. “He thinks he’s strong, doesn’t he? With his eyes like lotus petals and that oh-so-perfect smile. But I’ll strip all of that away. I’ll find the cracks in his facade and pry them open until there’s nothing left of him but shattered pride and broken dreams.”

A dark chuckle escaped her lips, low and menacing. “He’ll fall apart, and when he does, Alex will follow. That boy is Alex’s Achilles’ heel. And once I’ve destroyed him, the king will finally bleed.”

The door to the chamber creaked open, and a servant peeked in timidly. “My lady, is everything alright?”

Eleonora turned to the servant, her face instantly transforming into a mask of gentle kindness. “Oh, yes, dear. Just enjoying the quiet,” she said, her voice warm and pleasant. “Thank you for checking on me.”

The servant nodded and left, closing the door behind them. The moment she was alone again, her smile twisted back into something cold and calculating.

She sipped her wine, her gaze fixed on the flames in the hearth. “Enjoy your place by his side while you can, Max,” she murmured to herself. “Because soon, you’ll see just how unworthy you are of it.”

Her voice turned to a whisper as she added, “And when you fall, it will be glorious.”

Maximilian stepped out of the palace gates, his tall frame cloaked in a simple yet elegant outfit that blended practicality with his royal stature. He didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention, but his presence alone had a way of commanding it. Though he had promised Queen Mother not to wander too far, the bustling sounds of the marketplace just beyond the palace grounds called to him—a stark contrast to the stifling quiet of the royal halls.

With a small leather-bound diary in hand, Max strolled into the market square. Traders, artisans, and merchants bustled about, their vibrant stalls laden with goods: fabrics in vivid colors, baskets of fresh produce, and trinkets that sparkled in the sunlight.

He approached a group of traders who were deep in conversation and greeted them with a polite smile. “Good afternoon. May I have a moment of your time?”

The traders exchanged surprised glances before nodding, quickly recognizing the consort of the king. Max’s approachability and genuine interest put them at ease.

“I’ve been curious about how trade has been faring lately,” Max began, flipping open his diary. “His Majesty and I have discussed the importance of ensuring fair practices and meeting the needs of both traders and buyers. I’d like to hear your thoughts. Is everything running smoothly?”

An older merchant stepped forward, stroking his graying beard thoughtfully. “Your Grace, the regulations have helped stabilize prices, but there’s still room for improvement. Some of us smaller traders struggle to keep up with the larger ones who dominate certain goods.”

Another trader, younger and more optimistic, added, “The system is better than it used to be. There’s fairness, but it can feel slow. Getting permits for certain items takes too long, and that affects our profits.”

Max nodded as he jotted their points down, his handwriting precise and neat. “I understand. Permits and regulations need to balance fairness and efficiency. I’ll make a note to bring this up at the next council meeting.”

He moved on to a group of townsfolk nearby, asking about their access to basic necessities like food, clothing, and housing. A middle-aged woman carrying a basket of vegetables hesitated before speaking. “Your Grace, the market’s prices have been stable, but not everyone can afford the better goods. It’d help if there were more jobs or support for smaller households.”

A child tugged at his mother’s skirt and pointed to Max. “Is he the prince?”

Max chuckled and knelt to the child’s height. “Not quite, little one. I’m just someone who wants to help make things better.”

He ruffled the boy’s hair lightly, then stood and turned back to the woman. “Thank you for sharing that. I’ll make sure it’s addressed. Every voice matters.”

As the afternoon wore on, Max moved through the market, speaking with blacksmiths, weavers, and even street performers. Each conversation offered him insight, and his diary slowly filled with observations and notes.

By the time he returned to the palace, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. Though his legs ached slightly from the hours spent walking and listening, Max felt a sense of purpose.

Later that evening, as he sat in his study, reviewing his notes, he smiled faintly to himself. His mother-in-law might have insisted on him staying confined to the palace, but Max knew that he wasn’t someone who could sit idly by.

When the next council meeting arrived, he would have a wealth of knowledge to share—a testament to his determination to be more than just a royal ornament. He was Maximilian Ashbourne Vireli, and he would prove that his voice mattered, just as much as Alex’s, in shaping the kingdom’s future.

The golden light of the setting sun filtered through the ornate windows of the royal spa, casting a warm glow on the pristine marble and shimmering pool water. Max sat at the edge of the pool, his broad frame leaning slightly forward as he dipped his legs into the cool water. A gentle breeze drifted through the open space, carrying the faint scent of lavender and rose petals.

Behind him, a masseuse worked skillfully on his back, their hands moving in steady, practiced motions. Before him on a small tray were slices of fresh tropical fruits and a glass of chilled juice. Max picked up a piece of pineapple, chewing thoughtfully as his free hand rested on his stomach.

He glanced down at his hand and smiled softly. “Come out soon, little one,” he murmured to his unborn child. “You’re wearing me out already. What are you going to be like when you’re here, huh?”

The serene moment was disrupted by the sound of clicking heels. Lady Eleanora’s presence was as noticeable as it was unwelcome. She entered the expansive spa with an air of practiced grace, her movements elegant yet calculated. Her sharp eyes surveyed the area, finally landing on Max.

She took a seat on the opposite end of the pool—not close enough to intrude physically, but near enough to let her voice carry across the water. Her words were sweetly enunciated, dripping with a false pleasantness that only served to amplify the venom beneath them.

“Ah, Maximilian,” she began, her tone laced with mock admiration. “It’s so refreshing to see someone of your...stature taking such liberties with their time.”

Max stiffened slightly but kept his gaze on the rippling water.

She continued, her voice still syrupy, yet her words sharp as blades. “Tell me, is this how royalty conducts itself in your kingdom? Roaming about, mingling with commoners like one of them? Oh, forgive me—I meant like loafers do. It’s quite amusing, really. From where I come, such behavior would be... unthinkable. We have a certain dignity to maintain, you see. We don’t lower ourselves to such trivial activities.”

Max’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent, his eyes fixed on the ripples in the pool.

Eleanora tilted her head, her expression one of feigned innocence. “I suppose it must be different for you, though. After all, you’re not truly a part of this royal family, are you? Just a... guest, as it were.”

The masseuse faltered for a moment, glancing at Max with concern, but he gave a small nod, silently asking them to continue.

“Such a pity,” Eleanora went on, her voice taking on a cruel edge now. “You could have been so much more, Maximilian. But alas, here you are—playing the role of a dutiful ornament, wandering about with no real power or purpose. Do you honestly think anyone takes you seriously?”

Her words cut deep, each one striking like a lash. Max’s hand instinctively moved to his stomach again, as if shielding his child from the poison in her voice.

“Of course,” she added with a light laugh, “it’s not entirely your fault. Some people simply aren’t destined for greatness. Perhaps you should stick to what you’re good at—looking pretty and staying out of the way.”

Eleanora rose gracefully from her seat, her movements as calculated as her words. “Well, enjoy your... relaxation, Maximilian. I’ll leave you to it.”

As her heels clicked away, the oppressive weight of her presence lingered. Max closed his eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath. His heart ached with the sting of her words, but he refused to let them break him.

Instead, he whispered softly, his hand still on his stomach, “Don’t listen to her, little one. You and I, we’ll show them what we’re really made of.”

For now, he would endure, holding onto the thought of a future where her words no longer had the power to hurt him—or his child.