The closer they got to the royal palace, the more his tension eased. The wounds from last night’s beating throbbed again. 

His stomach was starving, and the mottled injuries burrowed past his skin into his bones and organs. Lennox held Ann in the carriage, breaking out in cold sweat.

“Your Highness.”

How much time had passed? 

The carriage door opened. Lennox, who’d had his eyes closed briefly, stared at Count Altuart’s blue eyes peering in at them. The man, as sharp as his father, stared at him with his lips pressed firmly together.

“We’re at the royal castle.”

At the words “royal castle,” Ann, who’d been burying her face, stiffened. Lennox soothed the girl, saying “Nothing to be nervous about.” 

But Ann didn’t trust him easily. Lennox heard his mother’s high-pitched cries from the distance. Strangely, his head seemed to ache.

“I’ll escort you.”

Count Altuart extended his hand. Lennox staggered to his feet. But Ann showed no signs of moving. Lennox whispered to her, “Let’s go now, Ann.” 

But Ann didn’t budge. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“Ann.”

“Leave that child behind.”

At Count Altuart’s stiff voice, Lennox narrowed his brow. He didn’t want to, but hearing his mother’s frantic cries, he thought he couldn’t keep worrying about Ann.

“Take her to my chambers.”

Lennox, staggering as he got out of the carriage, muttered to Count Altuart. But the man didn’t answer, only gave a brief silent bow.

“Lennox!”

His mother’s tear-soaked voice rang in his ears. Lennox saw the Queen’s palace maids running after her, clutching their voluminous dresses. Just two days. Yes, only about two days had passed, yet somehow they seemed unfamiliar.

“Mother.”

“What on earth, what on earth…!”

Her wet face twisted horribly. Lennox felt his mother’s delicate jade hands stroking his swollen face. Lennox had nothing to say. All of this was his oversight and foolishness. 

Wrapped up in stubbornness, he’d not only put himself in danger but endangered the kingdom’s future. He had nothing to say.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Let’s go inside first.”

“Just a moment, in the carriage…”

Lennox turned his head. His eyes met Count Altuart’s. The man moved his lips, saying “Please go ahead.” 

Ingrid looked at him with a puzzled expression. Lennox swallowed a sigh and took his mother’s hand to lead her. His head throbbed painfully.

“My friend is still in the carriage.”

“Friend?”

“I’ll explain slowly.”

Lennox answered, suppressing a sigh. At her son’s more composed reaction than expected, Ingrid bit her lips hard. She held her son’s hand, now in rags, and looked back at her husband. He was as indifferent as always. It felt like fire rising inside her again.

Not knowing what had happened, she was deeply concerned about her severely injured son. Last evening, Count Altuart had said Lennox seemed to have gone to Bluebilt Village.

Ingrid and the maids could only be shocked at those words. That place was a slum notorious only by rumor.

Ingrid had never once set foot there, and only Countess Hervonne had briefly gone there as a girl to distribute bread with her mother who did charity work. For the young prince to be in such a place…

“How did this happen? A slum! That’s the complete opposite of the Altuart family villa!”

Ingrid ground her teeth as she pressed Count Altuart. The man didn’t answer, his lips pressed tight. Only Yvonne beside him conveyed apologetic words, not knowing what to do.

Ingrid tried not to show her emotions openly in front of the woman. But she couldn’t help the anger that leaked out on its own.

“Tell me, Yvonne. Why on earth did Lennox…”

“What does my wife have to do with this matter?”

Count Altuart, who’d been quietly listening to her outburst, spoke. His firmly hardened voice carried considerable intimidation. 

It was surprising that the man who’d never once opposed her was raising his hackles for the first time. No matter how much he cherished his wife, this involved the royal family’s only heir.

“His Highness the Prince walked into the slum because he left the palace unable to contain his anger. But my wife didn’t anger His Highness the Prince, did she?”

“Dear, please stop.”

Yvonne grabbed his arm. Ingrid bit her lips hard as she looked at the man who seemed angry for the first time. Her husband was watching from behind like it was someone else’s business. 

That observing gaze was horribly cold, making her gasp for breath.

“If anything happens to Lennox, I won’t let this go.”

She muttered as though she’d hold them responsible. 

Yvonne, her face twisted, said she was sorry and sniffled with difficulty. She turned and left the reception room. Lennox returned to the palace half a day later.

* * *

Was it because he’d returned home? 

His tension released, Lennox collapsed on the bed and suffered from high fever for some time. Ingrid, afraid her only son might go wrong again, couldn’t leave his side. She constantly stroked her son’s scabbed lips and the dark circles under his eyes, her heart in her throat.

Meanwhile, the child Lennox had brought from the slum was forgotten by her.

What mattered to Ingrid was Lennox preserving his life. Nothing else mattered. Whether the King ran to another man’s wife to comfort her or embrace her, it was all irrelevant. Ingrid held her corpse-pale son and cried quietly every night.

He was a child barely obtained after losing both her older sons. She’d even had a miscarriage once before giving birth to Lennox. He couldn’t help but be precious. To her, he was like a divine mandate. As a queen who hadn’t won the King’s love, the child was truly important to her.

The sense of duty to continue the royal line. A child born under the obsession that she had to fulfill her given duty to receive minimum respect as queen.

That child had nearly been endangered. Because of Yvonne, that wretched woman, of all people… 

Ingrid nursed her son while clutching her chest that felt bruised. Fortunately, the physician who examined Lennox said he hadn’t sustained major injuries.

Ingrid snapped back asking what he meant by not major injuries when he’d been beaten until his ribs broke and his jaw nearly came off. 

The physician said that wasn’t what he meant, but Ingrid’s anger wouldn’t subside at all.

“Leave us now.”

The King’s refined bass voice reached her ears. Richard, who’d entered his son’s bedroom at some point, dismissed the physician while looking at his wife. The physician, his expression hardened, bowed silently to him and left the bedroom. Ingrid stared at him, bristling.

“Did you comfort Yvonne well?”

She hadn’t intended to talk about Yvonne, but her lips moved on their own. Richard showed no expression even at his wife’s hysterical reaction. Where his gaze landed was on his son, lying there like he was dead.

“Still, I suppose you were worried about Lennox. Well, to Your Majesty, this child is your only son.”

Ingrid muttered sharply. For all three days since Lennox returned, the King had been frantically working. Because he hadn’t been able to properly keep his schedule while searching for Lennox.

Ingrid knew this, yet she couldn’t accept him. She thought it would have been different if Lennox had been Yvonne’s son. Even knowing such assumptions were meaningless, the jealousy that constantly gnawed at her was terrible.

“Perhaps if Hughie were lying here, Your Majesty might have rushed over immediately.”

Hughie was Yvonne’s son. Ingrid had been on edge since that child was born. The child had black hair and blue eyes, resembling Count Altuart. Nevertheless, Ingrid couldn’t rest easy. 

Because Richard was particularly fond of that child.

“Right?”

“Why are you saying such things?”

Richard, who’d been quietly stroking his son’s forehead, spoke. Ingrid looked at the man who seemed calm even amid all these events. She clenched her fists.

“Because it would have been different if it were Yvonne. Isn’t that right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Ha!”

He didn’t even deny it. Moisture formed in her eyes. Ingrid glared at him, her face a mess. Well, when had he ever denied his feelings? 

Richard loved Yvonne. Even after giving the woman he loved to his close friend, he still loved her.

“You actually wished Lennox would disappear, didn’t you? So you could finally make Yvonne queen and Hughie…”

“You are my queen. And Hughie is not my son.”

His sharp bass voice cut off her words. It meant he didn’t want to hear it. Ingrid shed tears. 

Richard, who’d been looking at his son, raised his head to look at her. The violet eyes that landed on her quietly were terribly cold.

“You’ve never once lied.”

“Because that would be deception.”

“Yes.”

Ingrid dropped her gaze. A sense of futility washed over her. He hadn’t changed from before their marriage. No matter how Ingrid changed, his attitude remained exactly the same.