Free Web NovelChapter 437: Chapter 437
Twenty-nine years ago.
"Your Highness, please come here. Your tutors will not be pleased if they learn you left your work unfinished," his nursemaid said and it wasn’t even the first time she had made the request.
The little prince had paid her no mind the first two times she spoke, far too absorbed in the world he had created on the floor, surrounded by carved wooden soldiers and painted animals.
The nursemaid let out a tired sigh, her fingers bunching the fabric of her skirts as she struggled to keep herself in check. She stared down at the unruly child, her patience wearing thin. Her days were often filled with multiple failed attempts to guide and discipline him, so she should have been used to this behavior by now. He was only four years old, after all, and children his age were prone to mischief. Yet lately, it felt as though the prince was no longer merely playful, he was testing her limits, watching how far he could push before she broke.
The queen was there with them, seated not far away, and the nursemaid knew she could not afford to lose her temper. Even the slightest raise of her voice against the young prince might be all the queen needed to have her dismissed from the palace without question. So, despite the boy’s defiance, she chose to tread carefully, swallowing her irritation.
The queen had not said a word until then. But when she sensed the nursemaid’s growing frustration, she set down her teacup. Resting a hand on her rounded belly, she leveled her son with a stern gaze.
"Hairan, put down those toys and finish your work. Your tutors will not be pleased if you do not," Nheera said, her tone sharp and commanding, the same voice she used to address nobles in court.
"Why should I care how my tutors feel?" Hairan retorted without even looking up, his attention still fixed on his toys as though the conversation did not concern him at all. "I am a prince, and one day I will be king. What they think will not matter."
His mother was not fazed by his insolence.
"No one will respect a king who cannot read," Nheera replied evenly. "I certainly will not. Now, get up and finish your work, or I will throw every one of those toys into the hearth and I will make you watch them burn."
This was not a threat she made lightly. Hairan knew his mother well enough to understand that if he pushed her, she would carry it out without hesitation.
A scowl darkened his face as he pushed himself off the floor, reluctantly abandoning his game to return to his nursemaid. But just then, a sudden commotion outside caught his attention. The sound of carriage wheels and voices drifted through the window, stirring his curiosity.
He darted toward the settee placed beneath the window and climbed onto it to gain the height he needed, pressing his hands against the cool glass as he peered out.
"Hairan, I have warned you not to climb on the furniture," his mother said sharply.
Yet even under her reprimand, he did not move.
Below, in the courtyard, one of the royal carriages had come to a halt. Its polished exterior gleamed faintly in the afternoon light, and servants had already gathered around it. Curiosity stirred within him. He wanted to know who was inside.
Luckily, he did not have to wait long.
A footman stepped forward, opening the carriage door, and then reached inside to help a boy down.
Hairan narrowed his eyes. He had never seen him before.
The boy appeared to be a few years older than him, dressed in what Hairan immediately dismissed as peasant clothing. The garments that were simple, worn, and utterly lacking the refinement he was accustomed to. The strange boy looked around his surroundings with a look of awe, his gaze lingering on the manicured gardens, the grand stone walls, the towering structure of the palace itself. It was the look of someone seeing such opulence for the very first time. All things Hairan had been born into.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed his mother approaching the window as well. She followed his gaze and frowned when she saw the boy.
"Mother, who is he?" Hairan asked, glancing up at her.
Nheera shook her head slightly. "I do not know."
But even as the words left her lips, unease settled deep within her gut.
A while later, mother and son were summoned to the king’s private wing.
The guards stationed there stepped aside at their approach, ushering them through into the chamber where the king awaited them. The room was already occupied. Laheir stood among three other nobles, their expressions guarded, their attention fixed on the doorway as Nheera entered.
And there, standing among them, was the boy.
The same boy from the courtyard. ƒreewebɳovel.com
The nobles’ gazes followed Nheera and her son as they stepped inside, heavy with something unspoken, as though they knew something she did not and it irritated her to no end. Still, she held her head high, her grip on Hairan’s hand firm as she approached.
"Your Majesty," she greeted smoothly. "Is there a reason we were summoned here today?"
"Yes. As a matter of fact, there is." Zeriel replied. Then he gestured toward the strange boy. "I would like you to meet my son, Ragnar. I only recently learned of his existence, but the resemblance we share is impossible to deny."
The words rang in her ears, again and again, like the echoing chime of a bell.
For a moment, everything else faded— the presence of the nobles, even the steady warmth of Hairan’s hand in hers.
She must have misheard. There was no possible way he had said what she thought he had. It was inconceivable.
Hairan and the children growing within her, were the king’s only heirs.
So why... Why was Zeriel now publicly acknowledging another boy as his son?
"And what do you want me to do with this information?" she asked, cold as ice.
It felt as though her entire world had been violently flipped on its axis, leaving her scrambling for any sense of balance. She had always known of her husband’s infidelity, knew that he kept countless mistresses tucked away but even with that knowledge, she had never imagined he would humiliate her so openly. To present his bastard child before her, to lay bare the evidence of his indiscretion in full view of others while she was so far along in her second pregnancy, it was an insult she had not prepared herself for.
