Sold To The Cruel Prince

Chapter 163: The Dawn Hare (2)

Edric’s thoughts drifted at once to another conversation, one that had taken place with the King shortly after he had erased the Crown Prince’s memory.

At the time, the mention of a hare had seemed incidental, almost forgettable. It had been folded into a much larger discussion, spoken so casually that it nearly vanished beneath the rest of the words.

Yet it had remained lodged somewhere in Edric’s mind, quiet but persistent. He remembered the King mentioning it in passing, and though he had not dismissed it outright, he had never found enough to explain it either.

What, exactly, were the Night Fox and the Dawn Hare? One moved in darkness, one in first light; one was a predator, the other a creature one might assume to be prey. Was it merely an old story told to frighten children into obedience, or had it once meant something far more dangerous than a tale?

Now, standing in the ruins with Leone before him, he was no longer inclined to dismiss anything.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

The wind moved through the shattered estate again, stirring ash from the broken stones and slipping through the gaps where walls had once stood. Leone remained motionless among the wreckage, her pale hair shifting beneath the moonlight like silver threads woven into the dark. For the first time that evening, Edric felt it with uncomfortable clarity.

He was not simply listening to a widow speak of the past.

He was standing at the edge of a secret.

A secret older than the fire.

Older than the mansion.

Perhaps older than the ruin of House Caelvaris itself.

Leone’s gaze remained steady on him, and when she spoke again, her voice had changed. It was quieter at first, almost reflective, but beneath it there was something grave, something that dragged the air down with it.

"They say the Dawn Hare is seen most often at dawn," she said. "Small. White. The color of frost. Eyes soft and clear. Playful, curious. It does not flee when approached, and it does not startle when it is touched."

She paused, and the silence that followed felt deliberate, as though she were allowing the image to settle before she tore it open.

"That is why people are warned to leave it alone," Leone continued. "But she was never left alone. Some chased her for sport. Some struck at her merely to prove their aim. Some threw stones just to see whether she would run."

Her voice hardened, a little of the woman beneath the archduchess showing through the composure she had worn so long.

"The Hare does not flee. It endures."

Edric listened, his expression tightening.

"The old faiths say it is a blessing," Leone said, her tone slipping into something older and stranger. "A wandering spirit of gentleness sent to remind the world of mercy."

Then she turned fully toward him, and the seriousness in her eyes stole whatever light remained in the broken place.

"But it is a curse."

Edric could not stop the faint scoff that escaped him. "You do not believe that."

Leone took a step toward him.

There was something unnervingly unsteady in her expression now, as though grief and conviction had become so entangled in her that neither could be separated from the other. "I did not believe it either," she said. "I was foolish enough to think that gentleness could remain untouched by consequence. I was foolish enough to think that the world would spare what was innocent."

Her gaze dropped, and when she spoke again, the words seemed to emerge from a wound rather than a memory.

"I threw stones at her too."

She pointed toward the ruined frame in her hand, and the motion was sharp enough to make Edric look.

"And then she vanished."

Edric said nothing.

Leone’s voice deepened.

"They say those who harm the Pale Hare are followed. Not by the creature itself, but by something quieter."

Her eyes lifted to his, dark and intent beneath the moonlight.

"At first, nothing seems amiss. The sun rises. The fields are tended. Life continues."

The words came slower now, weighted with dread.

"But the shadow does not behave as it should. The old stories say the earth remembers every step taken upon it. Every cruelty pressed into soil. Every careless harm. And beneath the feet of the Dawn Hare, that memory gathers."

Edric frowned despite himself. freewebnovёl.ƈom

He thought of Aveline then. Of her strange, uncanny abilities. Of the way she had moved through his magic circles as though it meant nothing. Of the precision with which she had handled things no ordinary girl should have been able to understand. The memory of her rose in him with a force that made Leone’s words feel less like folklore and more like an answer waiting to be recognized.

Could she truly be what this woman was describing?

Leone watched the thought cross his face. Her expression sharpened, as if she could see the question forming before he ever spoke it.

Then she said, her voice low and ominous, "So the elders say: if you see a white hare that does not run, do not test its gentleness. For it is not weak. It is patient."

A pause followed, filled only by the whisper of wind through ruin.

"And the patient things of this world," Leone finished quietly, "are the ones that remember longest."

"What did you do?" Edric asked, his voice tightening with suspicion. "What did you do to her?"

His finger remained pointed at the frame in Leone’s hand.

The portrait had been worn thin by time and weather, its edges faded, its details nearly swallowed by ash and age. He had assumed the woman in it had long since vanished into dust, that whatever story it held had ended generations ago. But Leone’s reaction had not belonged to someone speaking of a dead memory. It had belonged to someone faced with a wound that still bled.

And that unsettled him.

Leone’s expression broke at once.

The calm she had worn so carefully began to splinter, revealing something far more unguarded beneath it. Fear. Panic. A kind of desperation so raw it seemed to have been waiting decades for the first crack in her composure.

"That girl..." Leone said, and her voice shook in spite of her effort to steady it. "You know, don’t you? She is the Dawn Hare."

Edric’s gaze sharpened.

Leone stepped toward him, the ruined portrait frame still clutched in her hand as though it were the last solid thing in a collapsing world.

"She is going to bring ruin upon us," she whispered, the words rushing out of her now with growing urgency. "She will not spare any of us. Not if she is allowed to remain." freeωebnovēl.c૦m

Before Edric could answer, Leone closed the distance between them and seized the front of his collar.

Her fingers tightened hard enough to wrinkle the fabric.

Then she leaned in, her face only inches from his, her eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made the entire ruin feel smaller.

"Kill her," she said, every word low and desperate and terrible. "Kill her before the calamity comes. Kill her, and perhaps you can still prevent it."

The wind moved through the shattered mansion, but Edric barely felt it.

He only stared at her.

At the fear in her eyes.

At the certainty in her voice.

And at the monstrous suggestion hanging between them like a curse.