Cold Hearts In Love.

Stephen sat upon the dais in the royal court, presiding over a matter of grave importance. 

The werewolves had demanded to be freed while trying to violently break through the spell that has been used to bound them to the forests, as when Aurora had trespassed into their territory, they didn't hurt her, indicating they weren't rogues, which was the reason they were locked up in the deep forests. 

"Your Majesty," one of the elder ministers began, his voice quivering with age, "the troops are prepared and await your command. Shall we send them forth to defend the realm?" 

"Have they attacked yet?" Stephen asked, his tone steady, his posture commanding yet composed. 

"Not yet, Your Majesty," one of the elder ministers replied, bowing slightly. 

Stephen's expression hardened, his gaze sweeping the assembly with icy resolve.

"We shall not deploy our forces," he declared, his voice cutting through the murmurs that immediately arose. He raised a gloved hand, silencing them at once. 

"We trespassed upon their lands," he continued, his tone measured yet unyielding. "Their wrath is not without cause. Thus, we will send an emissary to propose a treaty of peace. Convey to them that their safe return to their lands shall be guaranteed under my banner." 

The ministers exchanged uneasy glances, their discomfort palpable. A bolder member of the council ventured a hesitant protest.

"Your Majesty, forgive my impertinence, but—" 

Stephen's cold gaze pinned him in place.

"Do you mean to suggest that my judgment is flawed?" he inquired, his voice low and dangerous. 

"N-never, Your Majesty!" the minister stammered, bowing deeply. 

"Then speak no further," Stephen commanded, his tone imperious.

"I do not make decisions to be questioned by those beneath me." 

The chamber fell into a heavy silence, and the ministers, cowed, bowed as one.

"Your wisdom is unparalleled, Your Majesty," they murmured in unison. 

Stephen rose from his throne, his crimson cloak sweeping the ground as he departed the hall without a backward glance. As he strode through the corridors, he thought of Aurora, and the rumors that had spread like wildfire, he trust his grandmother not to believe such ill rumors. 

"Your Majesty," a maid called gently, bowing as she approached. "The Grand Queen requests your presence in the dining hall for breakfast." Stephen sighed inwardly. What impeccable timing, he thought, nodding curtly before making his way to the hall.

As he approached the grand doors, he stopped the herald from announcing his arrival and entered unbidden. 

The tension in the room was palpable. Bathsheba sat on the right-hand side of the table, regal and composed, while Genevieve's scowl marred her otherwise elegant features.

Kayden lounged in his chair, his expression smug, he looked like he was enjoying himself. 

"Were you planning to avoid breakfast entirely if I had not summoned you?" Bathsheba asked, her tone light but her gaze piercing. 

"Yes," Stephen replied bluntly, taking his seat without preamble.

"How childish," Kayden's gaze flicked to Stephen offering a slight smirk.

 "Kayden," Bathsheba snapped, her voice cold as steel. "No one values your opinion. Silence yourself and eat." 

"Mother," Genevieve interjected, her tone calm yet firm, "Kayden has every right to speak his mind. He is, after all, a member of the Royal family."

"Preach," Kayden muttered under his breath.

"Oh, forgive me," Bathsheba scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "I thought he had been plucked from the refuse bin." Genevieve rolled her eyes at her remark. Mk

Stephen paid no heed to their bickering and instead turned his focus to Bathsheba.

"Why have you summoned me, Grandmother? If this is about Aurora, I advise you to hold your tongue. She was not a courtesan, and even if she had been, it would not trouble me…" His gaze shifted to Genevieve, his voice steady as he concluded, "in the slightest."

Genevieve glared at him, her expression hardening at his gutsiness, but she didn't say anything and continued munching on her food.

"I'm not here to stop you, Stephen. In fact, I support you entirely. Who cares if she was once a courtesan? She is now the king's chosen woman," Bathsheba remarked, her voice edged with thinness.

"She is not my woman, Grandmother," Stephen replied coolly, his tone clipped.

"Not yet, perhaps," Bathsheba retorted swiftly, her tone smooth.

"But she will be. I am skilled in such matters, as you well know." Bathsheba winked, a small smile on her lips.

Genevieve set her spoon down with a sharp clatter, her eyes alight with vexation.

"Mother, is this truly the course you have chosen?" she demanded, her tone cutting. "Let me speak plainly—if you do not send her away, I shall quit this palace without delay. I will take up residence in the abandoned estate and shall not return to these halls again." Her face was unmoving, her words heavy with defiance.

Stephen raised a brow. "Is that meant to be a threat?" Bathsheba let out a soft, sardonic laugh. 

"It sounds like a splendid idea," Bathsheba said. "The abandoned palace is a fine retreat for anyone in need of solitude and I think you need that more than anyone right now." 

Stephen closed his eyes briefly, as though gathering patience, before speaking with calm finality. "I think solitude would indeed do you good, Mother. Someone, see to it that my mother's belongings are packed. She will move to the abandoned palace immediately." 

Genevieve's eyes widened in shock.

"You would send your own mother to that desolate place rather than rid the palace of that whore?" 

Stephen met her gaze, unyielding.

"I see no fault in my decision. It serves both of our desires, and I suspect everyone else at this table would agree. And I would prefer you not use such degrading words to describe my friend, or it would mean insulting the king," Genevieve scoffed.

"This woman has truly cast a spell over you, has she not? You seem an altogether different man," Kayden muttered under his breath.

"Perhaps I am, brother," Stephen replied smoothly, his gaze sharp. "Though, I daresay, it is not I who struggles to adapt to change." 

"You didn't have to be so serious about it," Kayden sighs, before picking up his cup of blood to drink. 

"May I visit Lady Aurora later, Brother Stephen?" Sapphire asked softly, her voice tinged with unease as she felt the weight of her mother's withering gaze behind her.Stephen inclined his head.

"You may visit her." He paused for a moment, his thoughts turning to the unanswered questions that had lingered since Zayd had apprised him of the secret meeting between Sapphire and the woman who had sought to take his life. 

The night of the ball—the very night of his assassination attempt. The same night Sapphire, alone among them, had seemed to know the truth of what had transpired.

"And yes," Stephen added gently, his tone measured, "she is well now. Perhaps you might take the time to acquaint yourself with her when you are not plotting to lead her astray in the maze."

Sapphire's face flushed deeply. "You know I meant no harm," she murmured, her gaze lowered.

Stephen gave a slight nod, his eyes fixed on her with quiet scrutiny before he turned his attention elsewhere. Kayden scoffed, leaning back in his chair as he drained his goblet.

"Your newly acquired amusement seems to attract trouble wherever she goes, brother. How utterly exhausting." He chuckled darkly while Lucy and Amelia sat silently, their expressions betraying nothing. 

Genevieve, ever eager to stir controversy, turned her attention to Lady Amelia. "What do you think, Consort Lady Amelia? Surely you have something to say on the matter?" 

Amelia inclined her head gracefully.

"I thank you for seeking my counsel, Your Highness, but I must decline as I ultimately trust in the king's judgment." With that, she dabbed her lips with a napkin and rose from the table.

"I have finished my meal. With your permission, I shall take my leave." Genevieve glared at her audacity. Her daughter, Olivia, stood as well, bowing slightly before following her mother out. 

Though it was customarily deemed discourteous for anyone to depart before the king, Stephen had altered the practice, permitting his court to leave the table once they had finished their meal or felt ill at ease.

As Lady Amelia walked toward the door, the doors to the dining hall opened, and Lady Katherine entered with Charlotte and Marianna. Lady Amelia bowed slightly, but Katherine was not so glad to see her face, as she passed her by, she merely went her way out of the dining hall. 

Katherine's face was alight with determination, though her sharp eyes scanned the table for any unfamiliar presence. 

"Good morning, Your Majesty," she said with a practiced smile, offering a slight bow. Stephen returned the greeting warmly. "Good morning, Aunt. You know there's no need for such formalities. What brings you here unannounced?" Katherine's gaze flickered over the room, her frown deepening when her eyes landed on Lady Lucy.

"Since when do they dine at the royal table?" She asked, referring to the traditional etiquette of the concubines and Consorts to dine at a different table from the King.

Stephen sighed.

"Since Father passed, Aunt. It's a ludicrous tradition to segregate them. Don't you agree?" 

Katherine waved a dismissive hand. "Ridiculous or not, it is of little concern to me." She quickly turned the attention to Marianna.

"Allow me to introduce Marianna, my dearest friend's child. Her parents were required to travel out of town and could not bring her along. She implored me to take her in for a few weeks, and so I resolved to bring her to the palace with me." She lied smoothly. 

Marianna stepped forward, bowing deeply.

"It is an honor, Your Majesty." 

Stephen nodded politely.

"Please, take a seat." 

Katherine wasted no time in ushering Marianna into the empty chair beside him. Then, with a practiced air, she took her own seat next to Genevieve. 

Charlotte followed suit, bowing briefly to her grandmother before taking her place at the table. 

Bathsheba regarded Charlotte with an almost weary affection.

"You've not changed, child—always so solemn," she remarked, her tone a mixture of concern and fondness. 

Katherine interjected swiftly. "She is perfectly fine, Mother. I am already working to secure her a most suitable match." 

Bathsheba shook her head.

"If she is not ready for marriage, do not force her, Kate." 

"Nonsense," Katherine replied with a tight smile. "She is more than ready. After all, she is my daughter." 

With that, Katherine turned back to Genevieve, her lips curving into a knowing smile as the meal resumed under the tense atmosphere.

"Eve! How have you been?" Katherine called out, her high-pitched voice grating on the ears. 

"I've been well," Eve replied, forcing a smile. It was a practiced expression, as she held little fondness for Katherine, whose exaggerated cheerfulness and shrill tone tested her patience. 

"Of course, you've been well!" Katherine exclaimed, her enthusiasm as forced as her grin. "Now then, what delights have you prepared for breakfast today?" 

Bathsheba, seated at the head of the table, released a weary sigh. The uninvited intrusion had done little to improve her already subdued mood. Still, she returned to her meal without a word. 

"A rumor has reached my ears, a most ridiculous one at that," Katherine started, her expression curling into disdain. "Can you imagine the audacity?" 

Genevieve, while hardly a fan of Katherine, felt a small flicker of satisfaction to have her sentiments mirrored by someone else for once. 

"It is just idle gossip," Bathsheba interjected calmly, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. 

Katherine, midway through raising a goblet to her lips, stopped and sighed in relief.

"I suspected so, how glad I am to hear of this!"

At that moment, Stephen rose abruptly from his chair, the screech of wood against stone drawing all eyes to him. "I am finished here. I'll take my leave," he declared, and without another word, he exited the hall. 

"Well, I suppose asking for a drama free breakfast is too much in this house," Kayden remarked dryly before standing and following his brother out. 

Lady Lucy rose next, bowing her head politely. "If you'll excuse me," she murmured, taking her son Thomas by the hand and leaving the room.

---

Aurora sat in Stephen's bedchamber, having just woken. A group of maids bustled about, assisting her in washing and dressing. As she stood before the mirror, she admired her reflection. 

The gown she had been given to wear was simple yet elegant. The hemline brushed just below her knees, while the sleeves ended gracefully above her wrists.

A delicate embroidery adorned the upper portion of the corset, adding a subtle charm to the attire. 

A knock sounded at the door, breaking her reverie. Before she could respond, the door opened, and in stepped a young man unfamiliar to her. He carried a tray with a covered bowl, stopping before her with a polite bow. 

"Milady, I am Eric, apprentice to the Royal Physician," he said with a bow. "I was entrusted with these herbal remedies for you. I beg your pardon for the delay; I was occupied with other duties."

Aurora offered a nod, her tone courteous. "Thank you." 

Yet, as he lingered, his gaze unsettled her. There was something in his eyes that carried an unspoken weight, a secret perhaps too heavy to bear. 

"I ought not to say this," Eric began hesitantly, "but you should cease your search for the pendant." 

Aurora's brow furrowed. "What pendant—wait, how-" 

"It is better lost," he said quietly. "Had you kept it, you may well have lost yourself. Whoever gave you that was trying to hurt you, take it from me." 

"Wait-" 

Without waiting for her reply, he turned and departed, leaving Aurora standing there, her mind swirling with questions. 

Now what was that supposed to mean?